Smile and say it was your fault, whether it was or not. One man could hold fifty here, Ingtar said. Reluctantly Rand pulled the coarse wool workman's shirt over his head. The hand throbbed, now.
With a last look at Dena's shrouded form, he gathered his things, but as he started to leave, Zera spoke again. Something holds me. What about Mat? The choice is up to you, sheepherder. Smears stained the good gray cloth, and a long tear marred her skirt.
Join the newsletter to receive news, updates, new products and freebies in your inbox.