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the nålbinding cap on his head and scratched his scalp. “All that you can see before you is Vigrið,
sooo proud of that international keyboard
he had the hubris of the powerful in his eyes: that belief that one is better, faster. She felt a tingle in her blood, a sharpening of her senses. The herald of violence.
she smiled at him, but Varg saw no comfort in it. It was the kind of smile one gives a fool when they believe they can fly and leap from a cliff.
her sweat and sea-drenched black hair plastered to her head, like the collapsed wings of a crow.
“Then how do you explain that?” Grend said, nodding at the red-veined mountain. “Did you not feel the earth move?” “Because I do not know the reason for a thing, does not mean that a dragon-god did it,” Elvar said. “This is why you have no friends,” Grend huffed and shook his head.
It is a dark world, and dark deeds rule it, drag us down a white-foamed river we cannot resist.
“We have bought everything you need to put holes in other people,” Svik smiled, “but you need to take some precautions in case someone else puts a hole in you.” “Sensible,” Varg muttered, feeling like he was marching blindly down a track that he would not be able to return from.
