Breakfast of Corn (Otherwise Untitled)
He mused, "is he going to head out as soon as the end of breakfast?", recalling linda's original plans to sleep in the banged up hatchback he was using to travel towards the coast with.
Ragnarok - Prologue
But muses speak no more. i know not how to call them down again, to wake them up, to catch their bright contagion of the tongue, then i could speak as i would speak.
Tolkien's Fox
As he passed into the night, he mused that he would probably tell his kits to avoid hobbits if they could. yet he had a feeling they wouldn't listen. and then, why should they? he never did. now was not the time for musings though.
Innocence is not always White (A novel) - Prologue
The little girl sighed, and continued musing, curling up to rest be the fire wih a soft grumble, the end of her fluffy tail covering her nose.
The Hyena’s Concubine CH16
"hmm...museum.", simba mused as looked up at the sign curiously. "war beasts of the hyena clans."
Eyes like the Forest (10)
Thoughts that thrummed like the sound of an oversized drum throughout her musings. thoughts that kindled and died at the edges of her mind as her eyes glanced towards an empty horizon, seeking what was not there.
Princess of Knives
"guess there's only one way to find out." he mused with a grin.
Seth's dedication
#4 of zion character bios don't ask where my muse got this guy from, i hold absolutely no resposabillity for him at all, its her fault! \*points at his muse and runs away\* anyway, this one is seth, resident of myre.
The dog and the cuttlefish
"let me guess, another cosmic horror" he mused, both in boredom and in utter disgust.
Unbound
"poor fox," mused luca, clicking his tongue and shaking his head, "you should learn that violence is not always the answer." "quite right, dear brother," mused talon, standing fully ten feet behind alexander now. "he is too quick to strike.
November
The lonely muse sighed and on a whim headed deeper into the forest. the onslaught of winter was further here. the frozen moss crackled underneath his feet. here the poet could not find the regret of being wingless.
Exactly As It Should Be
Spilling across the bed, tangled in the tossed sheets lay the still frame of devin, with his fur mused from a long, deep night of sleep.