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Jon

           Idonotwanttoplaytheoathbreaker,evenforgoodreason.

           Theywentcautiously,movingassilentasmanandhorsecouldmove,retracingtheirstepsuntiltheyreachedthemouthofanarrowdefilewhereanicylittlestreamemergedfrombetweentwomountains.Jonrememberedtheplace.Theyhadwateredthehorsesherebeforethesunwentdown.

           "Thewater’sicingup,"Qhorinobservedasheturnedaside,"elsewe’drideinthestreambed.Butifwebreaktheice,theyareliketosee.Keepclosetothecliffs.There’sacrookahalfmileonthatwillhideus."Herodeintothedefile.Jongaveonelastwistfullooktotheirdistantfire,andfollowed.

           Thefartherintheywent,thecloserthecliffspressedtoeitherside.Theyfollowedthemoonlitribbonofstreambacktowarditssource.Iciclesbeardeditsstonybanks,butJoncouldstillhearthesoundofrushingwaterbeneaththethinhardcrust.

           Agreatjumbleoffallenrockblockedtheirwaypartwayup,whereasectionofthecliff-facehadfallen,butthesurefootedlittlegarronswereabletopicktheirwaythrough.Beyond,thewallspinchedinsharply,andthestreamledthemtothefootofatalltwistingwaterfall.Theairwasfullofmist,likethebreathofsomevastcoldbeast.Thetumblingwatersshonesilverinthemoonlight.Jonlookedaboutindismay.Thereisnowayout.HeandQhorinmightbeabletoclimbthecliffs,butnotwiththehorses.Hedidnotthinktheywouldlastlongafoot.

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