Before They Are Hanged (The First Law, #2)

by Joe Abercrombie

Still, he was glad she was there. Made him feel like a proper human man again, instead of just an animal slinking in the woods, trying to scratch his way from one mess to another.

“Do I go on three?” whispered Shivers. “Or after three?” Dogman shook his head. “Don’t hardly matter, as long as you go.”

He wished he was halfway as ready himself, but he’d done this before, and he knew no one was ever really ready. You don’t have to be ready. You just have to go.

Seemed to take the Dogman an age to drag himself up to Threetrees. The old boy was lying on his back in the mud, one arm lying still with his broken shield strapped to it. Air was snorting in shallow through his nose, bubbling back out bloody from his mouth. His eyes rolled down to Dogman as he crawled up next to him, and he reached out and grabbed a hold of his shirt, pulled him down, hissing in his ear through clenched-tight, bloody teeth. “Listen to me, Dogman! Listen!” “What, chief?” croaked Dogman, hardly able to talk for the pain in his chest. He waited, and he listened, and nothing came. Threetrees’ eyes were wide open, staring up at the branches. A drop of water splattered on his cheek, ran down into his bloody beard. Nothing else.

Im not fucking crying, you are.

“It’s a curiosity, but you always get a good showing for an execution. People love to see death. It reminds them that however mean, however low, however horrible their lives become… at least they have one.”

You’re the chief now, and we’ll stand behind you. Any man don’t care to do as you tell ’em can speak to us.” “And that’ll be one short-arsed conversation,” growled Dow.