What Stalks the Deep (Sworn Soldier, #3)

by T. Kingfisher

“That is horrifying and I want to go home,” I said, although I pronounced it, “Ah. I see.”

I rubbed my temples and wondered if God still looked out for fools, and if so, whether I’d exceeded Har patience already.

Breathing. That was exactly what it felt like, as if the mine was inhaling, dragging air down a steep stone throat. A throat that had already swallowed one man alive.

My only defense is a fundamental belief that dogs are inherently good and Thunder must therefore be good and if he hadn’t liked me, it was probably a failure on my part.)