"Their leader had served as a guard in the city of Mendel, my translator told me, but had been discharged after mauling a rioter during the long eclipse. His fur was less thick than that of the other Molossi in the band - the loud Free Jaw mercenaries and the quiet tribal trackers. It seemed to me that he had something of the street thug about him, the smooth calm of the gutter Hound."
"It is a bleak land: a parade of shadows in the mist."
"It is the belief of some natural teleologists that natural systema - among which are counted forests, deserts, lakes and even cities - are always moving towards perfect stability. There is a goal, a best possible arrangement, and when the systema has reached this goal all change will be impossible: change would be movement away from the goal. This vision of an unchanging, dusty world - with every tree and animal trail in the perfect place, forever - has mockingly been called the museum of life by the theory’s detractors.
There is something of this museum about the Husklands. When the Molossi hunt here it feels like they are disturbing a grave. I am reminded of an argument against the museum theory - that moving towards stability only means moving away from life. A living thing is of course at its most stable when it is dead."