A nervous silence loosens tongues
The pain of the flesh is naught to that of the heart
Like a falling star, he descended on the Tarbh Cró, a Cassiline berserker, his sword biting and slashing like a silver snake.
Night breeds its own sort of anticipation.
Let the warriors clamor after gods of blood and thunder; love is hard, harder than steel and thrice as cruel.
It is a fine line, in all of us, between civilization and savagery. To any who think they would never cross it, I can only say, if you have never known what it is to be utterly betrayed and abandoned, you cannot know how close it is.