Justin Scott Quotes in Moon of the Crusted Snow
His rough, meaty palm dwarfed Evan’s. The handshake was half goodwill, half intimidation.
“We gotta make a stand […] I was protecting us.”
“Scott’s a fucking asshole. […] he orders us around. He threatens us. And the worst part is, Brad has totally fallen in line […] And sometimes I catch Scott staring at me. It really creeps me out.”
“And it’s weird—he seems to be getting bigger, though I know that’s not possible. Probably it's just the rest of us are getting skinnier.”
She had been his surrogate grandmother, his go-to elder whenever he had questions about the old ways, and he had loved her. […] The smell of sage smudge lingered in his nose, and the travelling song her family had sung for her rang in his ears.
“No, they won’t listen to us. They’ll just call another damn meeting and do nothing. This is up to us.”
As Scott turned to fire on Tyler and Isaiah, his head burst open above his left eye in a spray of blood, bone, and brain. He fell forward. Meghan Connor stood on the back porch with the rifle sight up to her eye. […] Scott lay face down, motionless, as blood leaked from his head into the snow, spreading crimson across the white. […] Isiah […] looked to Meghan on the porch, still holding her rifle. She nodded, and trained her gun on her husband and his
friend, who froze in place.
No one wanted to deal with any more of them. Not now.
Justin Scott Quotes in Moon of the Crusted Snow
His rough, meaty palm dwarfed Evan’s. The handshake was half goodwill, half intimidation.
“We gotta make a stand […] I was protecting us.”
“Scott’s a fucking asshole. […] he orders us around. He threatens us. And the worst part is, Brad has totally fallen in line […] And sometimes I catch Scott staring at me. It really creeps me out.”
“And it’s weird—he seems to be getting bigger, though I know that’s not possible. Probably it's just the rest of us are getting skinnier.”
She had been his surrogate grandmother, his go-to elder whenever he had questions about the old ways, and he had loved her. […] The smell of sage smudge lingered in his nose, and the travelling song her family had sung for her rang in his ears.
“No, they won’t listen to us. They’ll just call another damn meeting and do nothing. This is up to us.”
As Scott turned to fire on Tyler and Isaiah, his head burst open above his left eye in a spray of blood, bone, and brain. He fell forward. Meghan Connor stood on the back porch with the rifle sight up to her eye. […] Scott lay face down, motionless, as blood leaked from his head into the snow, spreading crimson across the white. […] Isiah […] looked to Meghan on the porch, still holding her rifle. She nodded, and trained her gun on her husband and his
friend, who froze in place.
No one wanted to deal with any more of them. Not now.