Baptism of Fire (The Witcher, #3)

by Andrzej Sapkowski

He was also being troubled by overwhelming, disheartening, exceptionally unpleasant feelings, alien feelings he had never experienced before and was unable to deal with. Helplessness and resignation.

I’m going to relieve my bladder. Why, it even happens to walking legends.”

“I predict a bad end for your race, humans,” Zoltan Chivay said grimly. “Every sentient creature on this earth, when it falls into want, poverty and misfortune, usually cleaves to his own. Because it’s easier to survive the bad times in a group, helping one another. But you, humans, you just wait for a chance to make money from other people’s mishaps.

The cat, meanwhile, utterly unconcerned about being the centre of attention, stuck a hind leg up in the air and got down to licking his rump.

Were it not for us, you’d be hungry. We would be too, had we waited for you to act. That cauldron of soup was the result of cooperation. Of teamwork. The joint efforts of a fellowship united by a common goal. Get it, friend?”