Ranks of men afoot, pikes rising above them like a bristle of long thorns, and archers with their bows held slanted across their chests, all stepping to the drums. He came to peer from the window. Is it not so? Liandrin said suddenly. A flap of coat sleeve hung away from his shoulder, the darker for being wet.
Nynaeve looked at her worriedly. His yellow eyes hid his thoughts. When he tried to straighten Mat, Mat jerked and stared at him, then grabbed Rand's coat with both hands. Even if he pounded on a door until someone opened it, even if they took Loial and him in, none of the doors he saw would stop a Trolloc.
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