Silver herons stood on the high collar, and silver rapids ran down his sleeves, water battered to froth against jagged rocks. I think we must find this Padan Fain, too. And Trollocs, too, for a time. He shrugged against the chill of the wind, thinking of Selene touching his arm and looking into his eyes.
He's from the Two Rivers, Mat said scornfully. Bow and quiver he left where they lay; a bow was not of much use in the dark, and he intended to look, not fight. The guards are murdered, and here he is. After that he did not come again.
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