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Beka Cooper: The Hunt Records

In this fictional narrative, Beka Cooper is a young woman who embarks on a journey through a richly detailed world, encountering various challenges and engaging with a diverse cast of characters. The Hunt Records serve as a central element, providing insight into the history and secrets of the land. The story explores themes of identity, courage, and the quest for knowledge. more

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Tamora Pierce
Tamora Pierce

Tamora Pierce is an American writer known for her young adult literature. Her works often explore themes of gender, power, and growth, and are highly appreciated by young readers. more

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“Her free hand was clenched in a fist. I held still, waiting for her to say something, to tell me she should have never left me here, where her friends might look to me for help. Finally she looked at me. Her eyes were hard, but she'd let no tears fall. "This is where we blame those who are responsible, Cooper, she told me, her voice very soft. "The colemongers, and the bought Dogs at Tradesmen's kennel. We'll leave an offering for him with the Black God when all this is done, and we'll occupy ourselves with tearing these colemongers apart. all right? We put grief aside for now.”

ShouldLooksStillsHardDoneHelpingHandsMightEyeFallLeftWaitingBlackVoiceGriefDogTearsShould HaveResponsibleBlameOfferingDreadHer EyesFists
Author:Tamora Pierce
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“I told Ersken, "Lately it's been like living on the knife's edge, never knowing which side I'll fall off on" Ersken clapped me on the shoulder as we stepped into the street. "Cheer up, Beka. Maybe you were going to fall off that razor's edge before, but not today," he said, as good humored as always. "Today we're doing to jump.”

SaidTodayFallSidesKnowingStreetsEdgesShouldersCheerKnivesLiving OnRazorsCheer Up
Book:Beka Cooper: The Hunt Records
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“I wander thro' each charter'd street, Near where the charter'd Thames does flow, And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe. In every cry of every Man, In every Infant's cry of fear, In every voice, in every ban, The mind-forg'd manacles I hear. How the Chimney-sweeper's cry Every black'ning Church appalls; And the hapless Soldier's sigh Runs in blood down Palace walls. But most thro' midnight streets I hear How the youthful Harlot's curse Blasts the new born Infant's tear, And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.”

MenMindDoeRunningFacesBlackVoiceBornChurchBloodStreetsCryTearsWallWeaknessFlowMarkSoldierEvery ManWanderCurseWoeMidnightSighInfantPlaguePalacesBlastBansCharterChimneysBlightHarlotsThamesSweepers
Book:Poems: Introduction by Patti Smith
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