Bast to Chronicler - Patrick Rothfuss
Hear my words, manling. Do not mistake me for my mask. You see light dappling on the water and forget the deep, cold dark beneath. Listen. You cannot hurt me. You cannot run or hide. In this I will not be defied. I swear by all the salt in me; if you run counter to my desire, the remainder of your brief mortal span will be an orchestra of misery... And I swear by night sky and ever-moving moon; if you lead my master to despair, I will slit you open and splash around like a child in a mud puddle.
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