He felt as if they were staring at him. They were angling to the west of here, Lord Rand. Nynaeve stared at her, grinding her teeth. The Black Wind.
There were ravens and crows all over the rooftops, but never a one went near it, dead as it was. A clean break. Their forefathers broke their oaths, but these have learned better. Thom always moans about losing the best flute and the best harp he ever had.
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