"The golden light was fading, and into the quietness stole a shimmering thread of bird-song, the thin, regretful autumn song of a robin in the wild pear tree; and he realized that the summer was nearly over. Suddenly he knew, with a sense of discovery, that it had been a good summer. He had been homesick, yes, dreaming night after night of his own hills, and waking with a sore heart; but none the less, it had been a good summer. There had been the day that Cub discovered how to bark. Marcus had been almost as surprised as Cub. 'But wolves never bark,' he said to Esca; and Esca had said: 'Rear a wolf with the dog-pack and he will do as the dog-pack does in all things.' And Cub, proud of his new accomplishment, had filled the garden with his shrill puppy clamour for days. Other small sharp-edged memories sprang to meet him: twists of hot pastry brought out by Sassticca and eaten by the four of them as a feast; the hunting-bow which he and Esca had built between then; Cottia holding his olive-wood bird in cupped hands.

A kind summer, a kingfisher summer; and suddenly he was grateful for it."

~The Eagle of the Ninth

What about this one:

"The first scone is what I like to call the practice scone."

-Xander Hawethorne

The Inheretence Games, By Jennifer Lynn Barnes