“Racing through the foggin’ Dreadwall with the foggin’ Navy on your foggin’ heels, while you close the biggest foggin’ gap in the entire foggin’ ocean behind you as you go does not foggin’ sound ‘merry,’ Dev,” he groaned, and he ran a hand over his forehead. “What if we’re caught in the Dreadwall as well?” “We die,” said Dev. “In spectacular fashion.” “Oh,” said Smoke. “Oh my.” What magik, to have silenced his elegantly profane tongue.
