"Fuck knows." Lazar tips the boot overhand. Dirt trickles out. "Go back enough, all that shite ends up the Place or the People."

That's language for you.

"But you ever meet some big bastard with scars down his face, might be playing he's Orth." A doubtful grunt. "Kicked Ma when she knocked up with a Chanter."

A thunk of the sole. Again, and a bit of tooth bounces free —

(Lions. Messy cunts.)