Olver glanced about. Nobody was looking at him. His fingers started trembling. He’d known that Trollocs were big, and that they were ugly. But … these things were nightmares. Nightmares all around. Oh, Light! What would Mat do? “Dovie’andi se tovya sagain,” Olver whispered, unsheathing his knife. With a cry, he threw himself at the woman in white and rammed his knife into her lower back.
