Explore "The Island" by Richard Whiteing on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I found her next morning seated on the Peak, and looking out to sea. She turned at my approach, as I came up the steep path from the market-place.
‘That is where the fighting is to begin, then,' she said, pointing north and north-east into the infinite blue. ‘We are to go there and look for something to kill -- you said so. Father says you did not; I say you did. Oh, why must they always begin these things by killing something? Is there no new way?'