Shattered (The Iron Druid Chronicles, #7)

by Kevin Hearne

Oberon threw himself at the wolf as he jumped at me, and when they collided and fell to the ground, I dog-piled onto the werewolf’s back, wrapped my hands underneath his front legs, and gave him a hug. Hugs are not normally part of my martial arts.

You should have called me before agreeing to it.” “I was naked in an onion field, Hal, with two huntresses on my tail. I didn’t have the time or the phone to call my counselor.”

I am loved by Atticus and Orlaith and by Gaia herself, and with such nourishment as that, I cannot choose but blossom.

“I’ll bet ye three grandmas and all their cookies

<Out collecting wood with Owen. He sure does complain a lot. Whoops! Forgot he could hear me.>

Whoever said that dead men tell no tales never spent Samhain with Druids.

Of course, I didn’t choose to fail. Failure is rarely a conscious decision and it’s often out of our control, determined by things like physics and circumstance and other people. What we can always control, however, is our reaction to failure.

Granuille

Our options, therefore, are about as attractive as a slug in the sun, glistening and moist and squishy and gods damn it I hate those things.

Owen

It exists again once I throw it at the head of the nearest one, but by the time he sees it, all he can do is duck. His buddy behind him doesn’t have enough time to duck—it splits his face, and I leap in, sweeping the end of my staff up from the ground to connect with the ducking goblin’s chin as he rises.

Ducking not a typo for once lol

And to be rooted is not the same thing at all as being tied down. To be rooted is to say, here am I nourished and here will I grow, for I have found a place where every sunrise shows me how to be more than what I was yesterday, and I need not wander to feel the wonder of my blessing.