wide-eyed with terror. It was terror, plain and simple. “He is born again!” Gitara cried. “I feel him! The Dragon takes his first breath on the slope of Dragonmount! He is coming! He is coming! Light help us! Light help the world! He lies in the snow and cries like the thunder! He burns like the sun!” With the last word, she gasped, a tiny sound, and fell forward into Moiraine’s arms.
