This place. Egwene wished she did not think of Rand when she looked at the mountain. Is your town nearby? She looked at him thoughtfully, and he stepped back. Egwene winced; the mattresses were thin, and the wood beneath hard.
Her mouth twisted around the word in distaste. The stairs creaked under Rand's boots, let alone Loial's. He could as well have been reaching for light in truth. My brain is not what it was.
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