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

by John Gwynne

surely there can be no more tears left in all the world, for we have wept them all over you.

“There are different types of pain,” Sighvat muttered. “A stubbed toe. A boil on the arse. The squits after a bad stew.

Sighvat sat up and belched, stood and scratched his arse, his red hair and beard looking like a bush that two angry cats had fought in.

We can all say brave words when the danger is passed. I should know, that is my speciality.

“What about Spert’s porridge?” Spert grumbled. “Life is sacrifice,”

“He’s a proud one, is Sulich. For a moment there I thought he might stab you.” “So did I,”

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

Everyone feels fear, there is no shame in it.”

a niðing, arseling, troll-shiteing liar