Gripping the bundle as if afraid he might drop it, Rand sneaked into the trees. He could channel. The fire was only a speck-he missed it the first time Hurin pointed. Just as in Tremonsien, the hills had been carved and terraced to straight lines.
Rand, the Shienarans believed in you. We'll never follow Fain through that. The Last Battle is coming. The Warder's face was stone, and sympathetic words sounded strange in that rough voice.
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