" She knew she'd been unhappy there. She'd said it so often, even she was tired of her moaning. Now she rubbed at the thorn and stinking fur on her cloak and wondered how she could've been so hurt by cold words and sharp looks. Seemed foolish and childish and weak. But that's what growing up is, maybe. Realising what a fucking arse you've been. "

― Joe Abercrombie