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" Then Janner realized with a grim smile that it wasn’t a rock at all. It was Peet’s flask of water from the First Well. While the rockroach gloated over him, Janner wondered what would happen if he drank the water, though he had no real physical wounds that needed to be healed. Then he wondered what would happen if the rockroach drank the water, and before he realized what he was doing, Janner removed the flask from his pocket, opened it, and flung it into the rockroach’s mouth. Wisps of steam rose from the droplets that sprayed across the beast’s face as the flask spun through the air. Then the flask was gone, buried in the depths of the monster’s belly where the toothy cows, a horned hound, and a quill diggle had so recently gone. The beast reeled backward. Its legs and mandibles wheeled at blinding speed, and steam rose from its mouth like smoke from a chimney. "
― Andrew Peterson , North! or Be Eaten (The Wingfeather Saga, #2)
175
" Janner plopped to the ground beside Tink, and the weariness of the day fell on him like a blanket. He leaned his head back on the stone and looked at the sky. White clouds slid across the deep blue dome, peaceful as a sigh. His eyes drooped shut, and wind tickled his face and the hairs on his forearms. The rockroach den, then the trolls, Peet’s capture, the foggy despair of the flat beside the river, the dizzy sight of the Dark Sea, the troll breathing at Janner’s back—and Nugget. He opened his eyes and looked at the sky again. Where was Peet now? Janner was afraid for him but felt sure Peet was still alive. He had survived terrible things for years, and something about the way Zouzab watched him from the troll’s shoulder made Janner believe Gnag wanted the Sock Man alive for some reason. For a long time they sat among the ruins. Podo and Leeli finally came back to where the others rested, and though her face still bore the weight of her sorrow, Janner could see that his sister was present. Her eyes didn’t stare into nothing. They saw the situation, grieved for it, and faced it. As Janner drifted to sleep, he was aware of Nugget’s absence; no giggles from Leeli; no big, whiny yawns; no sense of safety knowing that, whatever lay in wait for them in the shadows, at least this huge, happy monster was on their side. Janner woke with a start. Dusk approached, and the clearing lay in cool shadow. Leeli slept on Nia’s lap. Oskar lay on his back, hissing with pain while Podo worked to remove the old fellow’s bandages. Tink assisted Podo with a sick look on his face. Janner wondered for a moment where Nugget and Peet were, until he remembered with a shiver that the day hadn’t been some awful dream. “Hold on now,” Podo said. “I’m almost finished. Tink, hand me the knife, eh?” Tink passed a small knife to his grandfather, who used it to cut away the clotted bandage. "
― Andrew Peterson , North! or Be Eaten (The Wingfeather Saga, #2)
