I'm hunger. I'm thirst.

Where I bite, I hold till I die, and even after death they must cut out my mouthful from my enemy's body and bury it with me. I can fast a hundred years and not die. I can lie a hundred nights on the ice and not freeze. I can drink a river of blood and not burst. Show me your enemies.

Prince Caspian is not without flaws, but I like Ben Barnes, and hearing the werewolf's speech (even missing a line) was worth it. That was always my favorite scene.

And "action transvestite mouse" is the best possible variant on "gay and martial mouse". Ever. Except that I had to bite my tongue to keep from shouting out things like "No one's built a howe like that ever since. No one knows what the fuck a howe is!"

For I hate 'em. Oh, yes. No one hates better than me.

Sorcery and Sudden Brain-worms

Coming soon to a story near you:

She's a poor old woman with the rheumatics and some little skill in spells and cantrips. He is hunger and thirst, and where he bites he holds till he dies. They fight crime eat your enemies! And hate better than you.

(Guest-starring their spunky sidekick, the vengeful black dwarf.)

And now that this idea has eaten my brain, I won't be happy till I've written the wacky adventures of the hag and the werewolf with the dull grey voice. Apparently I've been in love that werewolf for 20 years now and only just noticed. (I actually had a childhood phobia of werewolves that developed around the time I read that book. I'd never thought of that before.)

I also won't rest easy till I've written the Tombs of Atuan/DragonsongDaughter of Hounds lovechild story that putters around in the back of my head.