Wood was stacked beside it, and she turned the book sitting on the coffee table into newspaper to burn.
Concrete walls surrounded us and the door, the only opening was a massive solid wood hulk.
All he knew now was his bare feet were cold, standing on the hard wood floor at the perimeter of the carpet in the death room.
Rusty hinges were still visible in the wood but no door barred the entrance nor could anything be seen beyond but utter blackness.
The room was warm and cozy, its walls done up in dark lacquered wood, the warm glow of chandeliers non- imposing.
The interior was marble and polished wood, dating back to a time when first generation craftsmen took pride in their workmanship.
The wood appeared to be cherry, and although it could use a coat of wax, it still had a deep luster.
Coatings that keep wood buildings from burning.
Since the wood-cutters, and the railroad, and I myself have profaned Walden, perhaps the most attractive, if not the most beautiful, of all our lakes, the gem of the woods, is White Pond;--a poor name from its commonness, whether derived from the remarkable purity of its waters or the color of its sands.
It was old and heavy, its covers made of wood smoothed by years of wear.
He turned to pick up the scattered pieces of wood and caught her watching him.
She started to saw at them with the knife. The wood was thick and wet. She shifted closer, gasping when the root healed the cuts she'd just made. Furious at the latest trick from the Immortal underworld, Katie sawed furiously at the root, until her arm ached. She'd barely made a dent when she switched arms.
Beside the tank was a pile of split wood about three feet high and six feet long.
The legions of these Myrmidons covered all the hills and vales in my wood-yard, and the ground was already strewn with the dead and dying, both red and black.
I lifted the heavy wood beam that crossed their door, securing it.
The dairy was warm, a fire burning brightly in the home made wood stove.
She watched the Guardians gather wood in the eerie light of the bloody sun and start the funeral pyre for her father's body.
This time the ax sank about four inches into the wood - in another spot.
The furnishings were of a dark wood, possibly cherry, with hand carved designs.
Carmen looked at Alex, who suddenly found the wood grain on the table interesting.
Drawing water from a well and cooking on a wood stove would be inconvenient, but how complicated could it be?
He took the wood from her arms and dropped it into the wood box.
She sat in the living room as masculine as he, surrounded by wood, wool, and leather in dark colors.
The only difference was the electricity powering lights in the heavy iron and wood chandeliers overhead and the intercom system installed into the walls beside each entrance.
Carmen grabbed a chunk of wood from the box and jerked the stove door open.
The pot-bellied stove crackled with burning wood, and a light in the corner made the cottage feel even cozier.
They glided past snow-covered fields and occasional farmhouses, drifting smoke from their chimneys skyward and adding a hint of wood smoke to the crisp winter air.
"That's what I thought," Carmen interrupted caustically, and gave the wood box a swift kick.
Her knee hit the solid chunk of wood with a nauseating thump.
The air was tinged with the scent of burning wood and melted metals, sulfur, and the facility's damp mustiness.
Somehow, he'd moved back to the wood line.
Fine. You chop the wood and I'll make us some iced tea.
She tugged at one of the chunks of wood until she had it sitting straight on the stump, as he had done.
Wood dwellings sagged, and refuse was stacked high between them.
Voices rose from behind the door, their words too muffled by the wood to distinguish.
The wood stage beneath her was slick with dark blood, the scent of which made her nauseous.
Low-key, contemporary furnishings in light wood colors and pale neutrals were mixed with splashes of color: the navy blue rug, lime couch pillows, cinnamon drapes, and yellow floorboards.
Rhyn focused the little bit of magic he had remaining on the wood. Fire sprang up. With it, Rhyn felt a stitch of the seam binding his power snap.
There was a lingering smell of wood smoke in the night air and all earlier efforts at shoveling the walkway and stairs were lost in the smooth swirls of new fallen whiteness.
Some thirty years ago Ferapontov, by Alpatych's advice, had bought a wood from the prince, had begun to trade, and now had a house, an inn, and a corn dealer's shop in that province.
Let them cut the crops and burn wood to their hearts' content.
'When wood is chopped the chips will fly.'