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Thank you means... Thank you means you did something good to me. Or something you thought was good. And that good thing was giving me fish. So that made me happy, but the part that really made me happy was that you wanted me to be happy. That's what Thank you means.

...for han hadde aldri skjønt vitsen med å velte seg under barkrakker med rasende idioter som mente de hadde opparbeidet seg evigvarende fitterettigheter på grunn av framifrå pikk og dype smilehull, og som kunne ha kniv.

"Hvis vi begge overlever til i morgen, kan vi kanskje gjøre den bålgreia da? Med de grønne greinene og sånt."

Toby ler. "Jeg trodde du syntes det var en meningsløs og tom symbolhandling."

"Selv en meningsløs og tom symbolhandling kan likevel av og til være meningsfull," sier Zeb.

Had she believed all that? Old Pilar's folklore? No, not really; or not exactly. Most likely Pilar hadn't quite believed it either, but it was a reassuring story: that the dead were not entirely dead but were alive in a different way; a paler way admittedly, and somewhat darker. But still able to send messages, if only such messages could be recognized and deciphered. People need such stories, Pilar said once, because however dark, a darkness with voices in it is better than a silent void.

They set out the next morning just at sunrise. The vultures that top the taller, deader trees are spreading their black wings so the dew on them will evaporate; they’re waiting for the thermals to help them lift and spiral. Crows are passing the rumors, one rough syllable at a time. The smaller birds are stirring, beginning to cheep and trill; pink cloud filaments float above the eastern horizon, brightening to gold at the lower edges

There's the story, then there's the real story, then there's the story of how the story came to be told. Then there's what you leave out of the story. Which is part of the story too.