Hunters of the Dusk (The Saga of Darren Shan, Book 7)

“Weapons are tools of fear, used by those who are afraid. One who learns to fight with his hands always has the advantage over those who rely on swords and knives. Know why?”

“Why?”

“Because they expect to win,” he beamed. “Weapons are false — they’re not of nature — and inspire false confidence. When I fight, I expect to die. Even now, when I sparred with you, I anticipated death and resigned myself to it. Death is the worst this world can throw at you, Darren — if you accept it, it has no power over you.”

“There are plenty who would steer you,” he agreed, “but how many would clip you around the ear if you made an error?”

“Not many,” I chuckled.

“They think of you as a Prince,” he said, “whereas I still think of you first and foremost as a meddlesome little brat with a penchant for stealing spiders.”

into our laps

bringing the stone effortlessly to mind.

down to that lone pair.

running an eye over

crates and sacks around