The Hunger of the Gods (The Bloodsworn Saga, #2)

by John Gwynne

“Do not be sorry,” Orka growled, “be better.”

“I am aware of that,” Varg muttered, “but knowing a fact, and doing something about it are two different things.

A hand gripped his wrist, Jökul. “It is normal before a fight, brother,” he said. Brother. How have I had such good fortune to find these people, after so many years of loneliness and pain?

“I know,” Varg said. “I am sorry.” “Don’t be sorry; be better.”

Walking away from Ulfrir and the Battle-Grim she had felt his loss, like walking away from the heat of a fire into a winter’s icetouched night. Every step it had grown more pronounced, but she had kept on walking.

“Svik should be more like me,” Røkia continued. “He should make a stone of his heart.” “I can see that would help avoid the pain of betrayal, true enough, but it also stops you feeling the joy of friendship or love,” Varg mumbled.

Real courage is to feel fear, but to stand and face it, not run from it.

To grieve is to be trapped in a world of loneliness.

Life is a knife’s edge, and all can change with the thrust of a blade.”

“Worrying about a thing won’t make it come any quicker.”