In this life, it’s far better to miss well, and be consistent, than to hit the bullseye once and never come close again.
As he approached them the rat-stick was heavy in Heap’s small hands. It used to be an oak lever to an engine, and it was almost too big for him to swing. Dirty brown splotches marked where he’d used it to defend Beatrix from sharp, needle teeth. Heap wished he’d used it from the start.