Power of Three, by Diana Wynne Jones: “THE GIANT CAME ON QUICKLY, SURE OF HIS direction now. Though he kept looking keenly their way, he did not as yet seem to have seen Ayna, Gair and Ceri crouching in the pool. Probably, in his unobservant Giant way, he took them for a clump of reeds. Ayna and Ceri were so frightened of him that they hoped he never would see them. Gair longed to wave or shout, but he knew that would alert the Dorig, and it seemed to him that Gerald’s best hope was to take them by surprise.
When Gerald was five yards away, they could hear the box quite clearly. The voice seemed to be Ceri’s, talking and talking, with faint gusts of music behind it.”
Feelings of fields of wet grassy land, and exploits in the evening farmlands, and feelings of being left out and ordinary, wondering deeply about whys- why things touch you more than others, why questions come to you that you have to think about while others walk untroubled in the sun, and you sit in the shade of your windowsill; fighting lustily, and facing death with blood on your sword, being wise and being ordinary.
Those are the feelings that sometimes come when you touch Power of Three again. And then one feels so tired; getting up and dragging oneself to the bus stop seems to require all the energy in the whole world.