The Two Rivers men gave way before Faile and him with only a little prodding. They were all intent on the red-coated lord, who was indeed holding forth.

". . . so the village is quite secure, now. Plenty of people gathered together to defend it. I must say I enjoy sleeping under a roof when I can. Mistress al'Vere, at the inn, provides a tasty meal. Her bread is among the best I have ever eaten. There truly is nothing like fresh-baked bread and fresh-churned butter, and putting your feet up of an evening with a fine mug of wine, or some of Master al'Vere's good brown ale."

"Lord Luc was saying we should go to Emond's Field, Perrin," Kenley Ahan said, scrubbing his reddened nose with the back of a grimy hand. He was not the only one who had been unable to wash as often as he would like, and not the only one coming down with a cold, either.

Luc smiled at Perrin much the way he would have at a dog he expected to see do a trick. "The village is quite secure, but there is always a need for more strong backs."

"We are hunting Trollocs," Perrin said coolly. "Not everyone has left their farms yet, and every band we find and kill means farms not burned and more people with a chance to reach safety."

Wil al'Seen barked a laugh. He was not so pretty with a red puffy nose and a spotty, six-day growth of beard. "We've not smelled a Trolloc in days. Be reasonable, Perrin. Maybe we've killed them all already." There were mutters of agreement.

"I do not mean to spread dissension." Luc spread his hands guilelessly. "No doubt you have had many great successes beside those we have heard of. Hundreds of Trollocs killed, I expect. You may well have chased them all away. I can tell you, Emond's Field is ready to give you all a hero's welcome. The same must be true at Watch Hill for those who live up that way. Any Deven Riders?" Wil nodded, and Luc clapped him on the shoulder with a hollow good fellowship. "A hero's welcome, without a doubt."

"Anyone who wants to go home, can," Perrin said in a level voice. Faile directed a warning frown at him; this was no way to be a general. But he did not want anyone with him who did not want to be there. He did not want to be a general, for that matter. "Myself, I don't think the job is done yet, but it is your choice."

No one took him up, though Wil at least looked ready to, but twenty more stared at the ground and scuffed their boots in last year's leaves.

"Well," Luc said casually, "if you have no Trollocs left to chase, perhaps it is time to turn your attentions to the Whitecloaks. They are not happy at you Two Rivers folk deciding to defend yourselves. And I understand they meant to hang the lot of you in particular, as outlaws, for stealing their prisoners."

Anxious frowns passed between a good many of the Two Rivers lads.

It was then that Gaul came pushing through the crowd, followed close by Bain and Chiad. Not that the Aiel had to push, of course; the men cleared aside as soon as they realized who it was. Luc frowned at Gaul thoughtfully, perhaps disapprovingly; the Aielman stared back stony-faced. Wil and Dannil and the others brightened at sight of the Aiel; most still believed hundreds more were hiding somewhere in the thickets and forests. They never questioned why all those Aiel stayed hidden, and Perrin certainly never brought it up. If believing in a few hundred Aiel reinforcements helped them keep their courage, well and good.

"What did you find?" Perrin asked. Gaul had been gone since the day before; he could move as fast as a man on horseback, faster in woods, and he could see more.

"Trollocs," Gaul replied as though reporting the presence of sheep, "moving up through this well-named Waterwood to the south. They number no more than thirty, and I believe they mean to make camp on the edge of the forest and strike tonight. There are men still holding to the soil to the south." He gave a sudden, wolfish grin. "They did not see me. They will have no warning."

Chiad leaned closer to Bain. "He moves well enough, for a Stone Dog," she whispered loudly enough to be heard twenty feet off. "He makes little more noise than a lame bull."

"Well, Wil?" Perrin said. "Do you want to go to Emond's Field? You can shave, and maybe find a girl to kiss while these Trollocs have supper tonight."

Wil flushed a dark red. "I will be wherever you are tonight, Aybara," he said in a hard voice.

"Nobody means to go home if there are Trollocs still about, Perrin," Kenley added.

Perrin looked around at the others, meeting only agreeing nods. "What of you, Luc? We would be pleased to have a lord and Hunter for the Horn with us. You could show us how it is done."

Luc smiled fractionally, a gash on stone that never came close to those cold blue eyes. "I regret the defenses of Emond's Field still need me. I must see to protecting your people, should the Trollocs come there in greater numbers than thirty. Or the Children of the Light. My Lady Faile?" He held out a hand to assist her in mounting, but she shook her head.

"I will remain with Perrin, Lord Luc."

"A pity," he murmured, shrugging as if to say there was no accounting for women's taste. Tugging on his wolf-embroidered gauntlets, he swung into the black stallion's saddle smoothly. "Good luck to you, Master Goldeneyes. I do hope you all have good luck." With a half-bow to Faile, he whirled his tall horse showily and spurred him to a gallop that forced some of the men to leap out of his way.

Faile frowned at Perrin in a manner that suggested a lecture on rudeness when they were alone. He listened to Luc's horse until he could hear it no more, then turned to Gaul. "Can we get ahead of the Trollocs? Be waiting somewhere before they reach wherever they mean to stop?"

"The distances are right if we start now," Gaul said. "They are moving in a straight line, and not hurrying. There is a Nightrunner with them. It will be easier surprising them in their blankets than facing them awake." He meant that the Two Rivers men might do better; there was no fear smell on him.

There was certainly fear smell on some of the others, yet no one suggested that a confrontation with Trollocs up and alert, and a Myrddraal to boot, might not be the best plan. They broke camp as soon as he gave the order, dousing the fires and scattering the ashes, gathering their few pots and mounting their ill-assorted horses and ponies. With the sentries in – Perrin reminded himself to have that word with them – they numbered nearly seventy. Surely enough to ambush thirty Trollocs. Ban al'Seen and Dannil each still led half – it seemed the way to keep arguments down – with Bili al'Dai and Kenley and others each heading ten or so. Wil, too; he was not too bad a fellow usually, when he could keep his mind off the girls.

Faile rode Swallow close beside Stepper as they started south with the Aiel running ahead. "You truly do not trust him at all," she said. "You think he is a Darkfriend."

"I trust you and my bow and my axe," he told her. Her face looked sad and pleased at the same time, but it was the simple truth.

For two hours Gaul led them south before turning into the Waterwood, a tangle of towering oak and pine and leatherleaf, bushy bay trees and cone-shaped redoil trees, tall round-topped ash and sweetberry and black willow, with thickets of vine-woven brush below. A thousand squirrels chittered on the branches, and thrushes and finches and redwings darted everywhere. Perrin smelled deer and rabbits, too, and foxes. Tiny streams abounded, and rush-bordered pools and ponds dotted the forest, often shaded but sometimes open, from less than ten paces across to a few almost fifty. The ground seemed sodden after all the rain it had received, squelching under the horses' hooves..

Between a large, willow-ringed pond and a narrow rivulet a pace wide, perhaps two miles into the wood, Gaul halted. Here the Trollocs would come if they continued as they had been. The three Aiel melted into the trees to make sure of that, and bring back warning of their approach.