The King of Ys: Dahut

The armies met south of the River Ruirthech. That was a day when clouds blew like smoke, low above the valley, underneath a sky the hue of lead. Rainshowers rushed out of them, drenched men, washed their wounds and their dead, passed away on the keening wind. All colors were dulled except those of blood and gold. Shouts, horn calls, hoofbeats, footfalls, clamorous wheels, clash and rattle of weapons, were somehow muffled. But blows fell as heavy and sharp as always.

He gazed back. Over the years she had added flesh to flesh, though her frame was quite large enough that as yet she did not appear quite gross. Her features remained good in their heavy fashion and her hair was still a burnished red-brown. It was untidily piled on her head, like the raiment on her body. He had grown used to that....Well, she had her rights, and she was by no means a bad person, and a man ought to shoulder his burdens without whining about them.

Would you know the dog from the wolf? You may look at his paw,
Comparing the claw and the pad; you may measure his stride;
You may handle his coat and his ears; you may study his jaw;
And yet what you seek is not found in his bones or his hide,
For between the Dog and the Wolf there is only the Law.