Rook didn't ask for much. He was fine with walking for days on end. He didn't mind the fighting and killing. He'd gotten used to living on stale bread and dried meat. He just wished Lume would stop singing.
"Once in my travels," Lume bellowed, waving his arms in tune with the melody. "I fell from my saddle, and landed right on a fish! I lighted a fire, a real great big pyre, and made it into a dish!"
Rook skewered the last of the would-be ambushers and rubbed his temples. Lume had been singing for fourteen hours straight.
Book of the now: Before They Are Hanged, by Joe Abercrombie
Music of the now: Speed F*cks, by Charlie Parra