Right now I’m reading a fantasy caper (not often I use the word caper) The Lies of Locke Lamora. And it is there I came across a description that is rather more elegant than you tend to get in fantasies of this kind.
The Lies of Locke Lamora tells the story (at least so far) of Locke Lamora, a thief in the city of Camorr. He and his gang rob the rich seemingly as sport, as the wealth they already have in the book sounds like it would be enough to buy an estate in the country and live a comfortable life.
Anyway… the writing is good and the story is clever. Everything one wants from a book, really.
The fluttering shadow that trailed them on their way through the streets and alleys was quieter than a small child’s breath; swift and graceful, it swooped from rooftop to rooftop in their wake, following their actions with absolute single-mindedness. When they slipped back into the Temple district, it beat its wings and rose into the darkness in a lazy spiraling circle, until it was up above the mists of Camorr and lost against the gray haze of the low-hanging clouds.