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I had a feeling he would be on the road himself soon enough。 If Darling really meant as much to him as he wanted us to think。
That night； for the first time in who knows how long； the northern skies were pletely clear。 The Great et illuminated our way。 Now the north knew what the rest of the empire had known for weeks。
It was on the wane already。 The hour of decision had passed。 The empire awaited in fear the news that it portended。
Away north。 Three days later。 In the dark of a moonless night。 A beast with three legs limped from the Great Forest。 It settled on its haunches on the remains of the Barrowland； scratched the earth with its one forepaw。 The son of the tree flung a tiny change storm。
The monster fled。
But it would return another night； and another； and another after that 。 。 。
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