Verin did not come again, as she had said she would not. He looked for Mat and Perrin, but they were still at the back, too many men between for Rand to make them out. Too horrible to be believed. The garden was small, like the house, but neat even in moonlight aided by the yellow glow from the cottage windows, with sandy walks between careful beds of flowers.
It was almost enough to make him believe the tales of Artur Hawkwing's armies come back. Rabbits had more chance against his bow. Just as in Tremonsien, the hills had been carved and terraced to straight lines. lling to proclaim for any man who called himself the Dragon, but they have never before had such signs as this.
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