The Road of Bones

It is a man’s world in which we live, Skraeda. Let them think us lambs, when truly, we are wolves.

Each time I drew my blade, I imagined the look of fear in his eyes when I returned for him. When he realized the wife whose arm he had cut off and left for dead would be the one to end him. I wanted him to know—he did not break me, as that was never his choice to make. I wanted to see the moment he realized that everything he had done to me—every slap, every punch, every kick—was kindling. It built me up into a raging wildfire, and now it was time for him to burn.

After seeing you react to the battle yesterday, I’ve decided you’re more risk to yourself than to me with that blade. Careful, Sunshine. The sharp part bites.

I wanted to see the moment he realized that everything he had done to me—every slap, every punch, every kick—was kindling. It built me up into a raging wildfire, and now it was time for him to burn.

You named your horse…Horse?

Tell me she did not just apologize to a rock.

I’m not a good man, Curls. But you make me feel as though I could be one.

You’ve broken me…bewitched me…I know nothing except that I am miserable. All I can think of are your lips; the smell of your hair. How you felt in my arms; the way you made me feel so alive.

You think yourself better than me because you smile and pretend the world is filled with good men? Because you believe everything will work out for the best? Your optimism is shallow and false, and one day, Sunshine, it will get you killed.

Because it takes a small man to be ruled by fear and a large one to show mercy. And anyone can see you are no small man.

Most of the time, he’s controlling, with the temperament of a troll. Come to think of it, he has the manners of one too. And I do not like that he tried to kill me. Twice.

He was just like the rest of them, those who thought strength was simply a measure of how hard you swung your sword. He underestimated her resilience. He equated her niceness with weakness. “Then we shall show him just how wrong he is,” growled Silla, turning on her heel.

She was light and warmth and all things good. All things a man like him did not deserve.But he was taking them all the same.

Why does he call you Ribs?”“‘Cause she makes me laugh so hard my ribs ache,” bellowed Ilías. Gunnar chuckled.“Because he grabbed my tit, and I broke his ribs,” replied Hekla smoothly, leveling Ilías with a stern look. “Best to remember I could do it again, kunta!

It was always nothing. But one of these times, it might be something. A grimwolf or a bear or a vampire deer or, worse, a man.

Your wits do not impress me thus far.

Malla’s tits,” muttered Rey, dragging a hand down his face. “Tell me she did not just apologize to a rock.

You needn’t be a warrior,” said Hekla, splashing water onto her cheeks one-handed, “but if you do not learn to defend yourself, you give power to your enemies. And with that power, they’ll make decisions on your behalf. You put your fate in the hands of others.

Silla had stepped off the cliff, the world was whizzing past her, and though she looked for a branch to grab, there were none to be found. There would be no turning back. It was time for her to fly.Or to fall flat onto her face.

The rabbit comes easily to the clever wolf who waits.

I won’t lie to you,” Silla lied. Gods’ sacred ashes, she was lying about lying.

But one of these times, it might be something. A grimwolf or a bear or a vampire deer or worse, a man.

Merciful gods, Jonas,” she muttered. “Just when I think you can get no worse, you go and open your mouth.” “And here I thought you enjoyed the look of my mouth.

Promise me, Moonflower. If we are attacked, you will run. Do not try to fight. Do not let them take you.

Strength is putting one foot in front of the other, even when you're tired. It's overcoming your fears, fighting inner battles against grief and addiction, holding onto the hope that you'll find yourself again when you're so very lost. Strength is finding compassion and forgiveness for yourself amid self-loathing and sadness. Sometimes, strength is a thousand-mile journey in a world of war-bands and monsters, and sometimes strength is in the little things we do each day.

You’ve broken me…bewitched me…I know nothing except that I am miserable. All I can think of are your lips, the smell of your hair. How you felt in my arms, the way you made me feel so alive.

He was just like the rest of them, those who thought strength was simply a measure of how hard you swung your sword. He underestimated her resilience. He equated her niceness with weakness.

Fear not death, for the hour of your doom is set, and none may escape it.

Nothing. It was always nothing. But one of these times, it might be something. A grimwolf or a bear or a vampire deer or, worse, a man.

Friends do not suffocate friends for sordid details.