Peder Mork Monsted A River Landscape in Springtime

Peder Mork Monsted A River Landscape in SpringtimeGuillaume Seignac The Awakening of PsycheRudolf Ernst The Perfume MakerAlexandre Cabanel Fallen Angel
incredulously and got the other elbow in the kidneys.
Cohen cursed as he struggled to untangle his sword from his robe while hopping crabwise towards Herrena. Rincewind groaned, gritted his teeth, and jerked his head backwards hard. There was a scream from Weems and Rincewind rolled sideways, landed heavily in the mud, scrambled up madly and looked around for somewhere to hide.
With a cry of triumph Cohen managed to free his sword and waved it triumphantly, severely wounding a man who had Twoflower with his sword drawn.
Rincewind saw him hesitate. There was a moment of silence, and then even Herrena could hear the splashing as the Luggage surged ashore, water pouring from it.
Weems stared at it in horror. His sword fell from his hand. He turned and ran into the mists. A moment later he Luggage bounded over Rincewind and followed him.
Herrena lunged at Cohen, who parried the thrust and grunted as his arm twinged. The blades clanged been creeping up behind him.Herrena pushed Twoflower off her horse and fumbled for her own blade. Twoflower tried to stand up and caused the horse of another man to rear, throwing him off and bringing his head down to the right level for Rincewind to kick it as hard as possible. Rincewind would be the first to call himself a rat, but even rats fight in a corner.Weems' hands dropped onto his shoulder and a fist like a medium-sized rock slammed into his head.As he went down he heard Herrena say, quite quietly, 'Kill them both. I'll deal with this old fool.''Roight!' said Weems, and turned towards

Peder Mork Monsted A River Landscape in Springtime

Peder Mork Monsted A River Landscape in SpringtimeGuillaume Seignac The Awakening of PsycheRudolf Ernst The Perfume Maker
first impulse was to turn and run, or to be sick. A human being with no daemon was like someone without a face, or with their ribs laid open and their heart torn out: something unnatural and uncanny that belonged to the world of night-ghasts, not the waking world of sense.
So Lyra swallowed hard to govern her nausea. "The Gobblers..." But she couldn't finish. She had to go out of the shed and sit down by herself in the snow, except that of course she wasn't by herself, she was never by herself, because Pantalaimon was always there. Oh, to be cut from him as this little boy had been parted from his Ratter! The worst thing in the world! She found herself sobbing, and Pantalaimon was whimpering too, and in both of them there was a passionate pity and clung to Pantalaimon and her head swam and her gorge rose, and cold as the night was, a sickly sweat moistened her flesh with something colder still."Ratter," said the boy. "You got my Ratter?"Lyra was in no doubt what he meant."No," she said in a voice as frail and frightened as she felt. Then, "What's your name?""Tony Makarios," he said. "Where's Ratter?""I don't know..." she began, and