AtDTDA: 18 Seeing Red [510/511]

[robinlandseadel at comcast.net]

          . . . .Kit found himself once again gazing across the saloon 
          at a young woman with a striking head of red hair. . . .

http://hair.lovetoknow.com/images/Hair/c/c5/Red1.jpg

          . . . .His name was Bert Snidell. All that red hair of yours is from 
          him. . . .[357]

          "Sure, well being an angel I'm used to that." But the brightest 
          part of that luridly exploding childhood sky was now right behind 
          her face, and some of her hair was loose, and she could detect in 
          his gaze enough of what he must be seeing, and they both fell 
          silent. [507]

http://tinyurl.com/2r7z92

          Meantime, in another part of the taiga, Kit and Prance were 
          going round and round as usual on the interesting topic of 
          which one was less constitutionally able to clean up after 
          himself, when with no announcement, everything, faces, 
          sky, trees. the distant turn of river, went red. Sound itself, 
          the wind, what wind there was, all gone to red as a living 
          heart. Before they could regain their voices, as the color 
          faded to a blood orange, the explosion arrived, the voice of 
          a world announcing that it would never go back to what it 
          had been. Both Kit and Prance remembered the great 
          roaring as they passed through the Prophet's Gate. [782]

http://www.uwm.edu/People/apassehl/CrimsonSwirl.jpg
http://www.pleasureperfect.com/images/bright_red_brocade.jpg
http://tinyurl.com/32chr4

          Cameling along by night, Lindsay Noseworth found himself 
          now actually enjoying his solitude, away from the constant 
          chaos of a typical deck watch—visual field saturated in stars, 
          four-space at its purest, more stars than he could ever remember 
          seeing, though who'd had time for them, with so many small chores 
          to keep his eyes bent to the quotidian? To tell the truth, he'd been 
          growing doubtful about starlight in any practical way, having lately 
          been studying historic world battles, attempting to learn what 
          lighting conditions might have been like during the action, even 
          coming to suspect that light  might be a secret determinant of 
          history—beyond how it had lit a battlefield or an opposing fleet, how 
          it might have come warping through a particular window during a 
          critical assembly of state. or looked as the sun was setting across 
          some significant river, or struck in a particular way the hair, and 
          thereby delayed the execution of a politically dangerous wife one 
          was determined to be rid of—[431/432]