In an instant the afternoon she had killed the lorg came rushing back to her.

For some reason, she was put in mind of the lorg she had killed so many years ago.

The lorg's ing herbs and the next the world around her had disappeared.

A lorg is about to be born, Riane thought.

The lorg's disgusting pop eyes swiveled in their direction, perhaps sadly, but it did not move.

Would that You were a lorg, then.

That lorg had certainly been an evil omen.

The lorg was indeed a hid-eous beast.

Giyan took the ragged lorg in her hands and buried it in the shale.

It struck the lorg's head, causing a gout of blood so pale and thin it might have been water.

She bent to touch the cool, rough, golden skin of that rock, stirring even after all this time with images of the lorg.

The stone, loosed from that powerful slingshot, struck the lorg with a sickening thunk!

She paused, looking for the dry gully and the large flat rock of a golden hue under which, years ago, she had found the lorg.

I was forced to retreat, to keep silent, motionless as a lorg, patient as a kris-spider in its web.

But then she gasped, for what emerged from the casing was not a lorg at all, but a tiny version of Thigpen.

He was willing to play-had to play-under Fassett's rul-2s as lorg as the other players were the men and women he knew.

A passed ball and an intentional walk loaded the bases, and Dane lorg singled to win the game 2-1, forcing game seven.

But all she ever discovered was the lorg she stoned to death, lying mute and bloody, accusing her of the deaths she had bartered for.

The process of building and developing the instrument was featured on his 2010 RTE series "Lorg Lunny".

Roinnean Lorg Prògram Programme Quickfind:

The lorg's tail flicked once then, illusory as the whiff of water in the Great Voorg, disappeared beneath a long, flat rock of a golden hue.

There are three useful places to park along this road to go into the Carsphairn hills - Moorbrock house, Nether Holm of Dalquhairn and Lorg.

Grunting like an animal, Bartta gathered a handful of stones and, as she advanced upon the lorg, peppered it until it sank into the ground, split open like a side of meat.

-Utmost Source, The Five Sacred Books of Müna Owl Sixteen years-a lifetime-later, Bartta, now a small, dark, hunched figure not unlike a lorg, found herself on the same path.

Beware the lorg, she warned them with a frightening sweep of a gnarled forefinger, for lorgs are evil creatures, ensnaring the souls of dying infants, hoarding them like grains of milled oat grass.