Zavas woke from a dream. A shadow chasing him the clatter of bones and a dark bereft of all godly light, impenetrable, terrifying. He sat up to a cock’s crow, felt the presence of his companions stirring close by in the ruins. He scattered water all over his head and felt the terror receding from him his heart, for the time being. They shared fresh baked bread from the Wilderlings amongst them, sat talking in sombre voices about the day and the one after ahead.
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