Recalling a house and a lady, dismount where the winds cross.

Assault

Nealan of Queenscove stares across the Vassa. He closes his eyes, and sees the old lady with the Gift, and Wyldon, making allowances. He stares at the rushing, murky water, and sees the nights spent on the road, and the teasing jibes made by all. He recalls the grim fights, the sparrows and the dogs, and the strategy planning sessions. He stares into the distant forest, and sees the large stone palace, the hardened villagers, and Irnai. He looks at the sky, seeing the Stormwings swooping past. He looks at his horse, scarred forever with the battle marks, and sees his own mount that fought with him, that died of a disease the winter next. He laughs. It was not battle that had killed his Cinnamon, but a virus that Daine was not able to cure.

Finally, he dismounts, falling onto his knees. He stares at the ground, thinking of only his beloved that was never to be, the lady knight.