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d had thought。 How could he be kept from speaking； now that silence might mean life？
〃Mother wants you to be quiet；〃 Rand whispered。 He paused to clear his throat of a sudden tightness。 She had had gentle hands； he remembered that much。 〃Kari wants you to be quiet。 Here。 Drink。〃
Tam gulped thirstily from the waterskin； but after a few swallows he turned his head aside and began murmuring softly again； too low for Rand to understand。 He hoped it was too low to be heard by hunting Trollocs； too。
Hastily he got on with what was needed。 Three of the blankets he wove around and between the shafts cut from the cart； contriving a makeshift litter。 He would only be able to carry one end； letting the other drag on the ground； but it would have to do。 From the last blanket he cut a long strip with his belt knife； then tied one end of the strip to each of the shafts。
As gently as he could； he lifted Tam onto the litter； wincing with every moan。 His father had always seemed indestructible。 Nothing could harm him； nothing could stop him； or even slow him down。 For him to be in this condition almost robbed Rand of what courage he had managed to gather。 But he had to keep on。 That was all that kept him moving。 He had to。
When Tam finally lay on the litter； Rand hesitated； then took the sword belt from his father's waist。 When he fastened it around himself； it felt odd there； it made him feel odd。 Belt and sheath and sword together only weighed a few pounds； but when he sheathed the blade it seemed to drag at him like a great weight。
Angrily he berated himself。 This was no time or place for foolish fancies。 It was only a big knife。 How many times had he daydreamed about wearing a sword and having adventures？ If he could kill one Trolloc with it； he could surely fight off any others as well。 Only； he knew all too well that what had happened in the farmhouse had been the purest luck。 And his daydream adventures had never included his teeth chattering； or running for his life through the night； or his father at the point of death。
Hastily he tucked the last blanket around Tam； and laid the waterskin and the rest of the cloths beside his father on the litter。 With a deep breath he knelt between the shafts and lifted the strip of blanket over his head。 It settled across his shoulders and under his arms。 When he gripped the shafts and straightened； most of the weight was on his shoulders。 It did not seem like very much。 Trying to keep a smooth pace； he set out for Emond's Field； the litter scraping along behind him。
He had already decided to make his way to the Quarry Road and follow that to the village。 The danger would almost certainly be greater along the road； but Tam would receive no help at all if he got them lost trying to find his way through the woods and the dark。
In the darkness he was almost out onto the Quarry Road before he knew it。 When he realized where he was； his throat tightened like a fist。 Hurriedly he turned the litter around and dragged it back into the trees a way； then stopped to catch his breath and let his heart stop pounding。 Still panting； he turned east； toward Emond's Field。
Traveling through the trees was more difficult than taking Tam down the road； and the night surely did not help； but going out onto the road itself would be madness。 The idea was to reach the village without meeting any Trollocs； without even seeing any； if he had his wish。 He had to assume the Trollocs were still hunting them； and sooner or later they would realize the two had set off for the village。 That was the most likely place to go； and the Quarry Road the most likely route。 In truth； he found himself closer to the road than he liked。 The night and the shadows under the trees seemed awfully bare cover in which to hide from the eyes of anyone traveling along it。
Moonlight filtering through bare branches gave only enough illumination to fool his eyes into thinking they saw what was underfoot。 Roots threatened to trip him at every step； old brambles snagged his legs； and sudden dips or rises in the ground had him half falling as his foot met nothing but air where he expected firm earth； or stumbling when his toe struck dirt while still moving forward。 Tam's mutterings broke into a sharp groan whenever one of the shafts bumped too quickly over root or rock。
Uncertainty made him peer into the darkness until his eyes burned； listen as he had never listened before。 Every scrape of branch against branch； every rustle of pine needles； brought him to a halt； ears straining； hardly daring to breathe for fear he might not hear some warning sound； for fear he might hear that sound。 Only when he was sure it was just the wind would he go on。
Slowly weariness crept into his arms and legs； driven home by a night wind that mocked his cloak and coat。 The weight of the litter； so little at the start； now tried to pull him to the ground。 His stumbles were no longer all from tripping。 The almost constant struggle not to fall took as much out of him as did the actual work of pulling the litter。 He had been up before dawn to begin his chores； and even with the trip to Emond's Field he had done almost a full day's work。 On any normal night he would be resting before the fireplace； reading one of Tam's small collection of books before going to bed。 The sharp chill soaked into his bones； and his stomach reminded him that he had had nothing to eat since Mistress al'Vere's honeycakes。
He muttered to himself； angry at not taking some food at the farm。 A few minutes more could not have made any difference。 A few minutes to find some bread and cheese。 The Trollocs would not have e back in just a few minutes more。 Or just the bread。 Of course； Mistress al'Vere would insist on putting a hot meal in front of him once they reached the inn。 A steaming plate of her thick lamb stew； probably。 And some of that bread she had been baking。 And lots of hot tea。
〃They came over the Dragonwall like a flood；〃 Tam said suddenly； in a strong； angry voice； 〃and washed the land with blood。 How many died for Laman's sin？〃
Rand almost fell from surprise。 Wearily he lowered the litter to the ground and untangled himself。 The strip of blanket left a burning groove in his shoulders。 Shrugging to work the knots out； he knelt beside Tam。 Fumbling for the waterbag； he peered through the trees； trying vainly in the dim moonlight to see up and down the road； not twenty paces away。 Nothing moved there but shadows。 Nothing but shadows。
〃There isn't any flood of Trollocs； father。 Not now； anyway。 We'll be safe in Emond's Field soon。 Drink a little water。〃
Tam brushed aside the waterbag with an arm that seemed to have regained all of its strength。 He seized Rand's collar； pulling him close enough to feel the heat of his father's fever in his own cheek。 〃They called them savages；〃 Tam said urgently。 〃The fools said they could be swept aside like rubbish。 How many battles lost； how many cities burned； before they faced the truth？ Before the nations stood together against them？〃 He loosed his hold on Rand； and sadness filled his voice。 〃The field at Marath carpeted with the dead； and no sound but the cries of ravens and the buzzing of files。 The topless towers of Cairhien burning in the night like torches。 All the way to the Shining Walls they burned and slew before they were turned back。 All the way to … 〃
Rand clamped a hand over his father's mouth。 The sound came again； a rhythmic thudding； directionless in the trees； fading then growing stronger again as the wind shifted。 Frowning； he turned his head slowly； trying to decide from where it came。 A flicker of motion caught the er of his eye； and in an instant he was crouched over Tam。 He was startled to feel the hilt of the sword clutched tight in his hand； but most of him concentrated on the Quarry Road as if the road were the only real thing in the entire world。
Wavering shadows to the east slowly resolved themselves into a horse and rider followed up the road by tall； bulky shapes trotting to keep up with； the animal。 The pale light of the moon glittered from spearheads and axe blades。 Rand never even c