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Jaw set against her fear, she crafted the rest of the required weave She split her weaves a half-dozen ti in mere moments

She set it in place, then nodded There Other Trollocs were co, and she burned them aith a wave of her hand

The six-pointed star was carved into the side of an archway of stone She walked toward it, trying to keep fro nervously over her shoulder More Trollocs were co More than she could possibly kill

She reached the archway and stepped through

Nynaeve finished the forty-seventh weave, which caused the sounds of bells in the air She was exhausted She’d had toon top of an impossibly narroer hundreds of feet in the air Wind buffeted her, threatening to blow her free

An archway appeared below, in the dark night air It seeht out of the pillar’s side a dozen feet below her, parallel to the ground, its opening toward the sky It held the six-pointed star

Gritting her teeth, she leaped off the spire and fell through the archway

She landed in a puddle Her clothing was gone What had happened to it? She stood up, growling to herself She was angry She didn’t knohy, but so to her

She was so tired That was their fault, whoever they were As she focused on that thought, it became more clear to her She couldn’t remember what they’d done, but they were definitely to blame She had cuts across both of her ar fierce

Dripping wet, she looked around She’d completed forty-seven of the hundred weaves She knew that, but nothing else Other than the fact that so to let them win She rose out of the puddle, deterarishly colored, bright pink and yelloith a generous helping of red It seemed an insult She put it on anyway

She walked down a path in the bog, stepping around sinkholes and pools of stagnant water, until she found a six-pointed star drawn in theblue star shoot into the air

So a black-fly Well, no surprise that she’d find those in this dank swalad to--

Another bite on her arm She slapped at it The very air started to buzz, flies zipping around her Nynaeve gritted her teeth, continuing the weave More and more bites prickled on her aret rid of the flies with a weave? She began a weave of Air to create a breeze around her, but was interrupted as she heard screa of the flies, but it sounded like a child trapped in the bog! Nynaeve took a step toward the sounds and opened herher They got at her eyes, and she had to squeeze theht, they were in her throat! In her lungs!

Finish the weave You must finish the weave