It eady climb to t top of Cloven Crest, teeper and more difficult. trong noo t  t had grown much colder.

    Sabriel considered a Cer-spell for  sired, and t of t cost more topped instead and s   oo large, needing severe buckling-in  and t  it ainly windproof.

    Feeling relatively , ion of teep ted to cutting steps out of te—steps noo sliding a.

    So prone to sliding, t Sabriel reacop  realizing it,  for t of t step.  ually  t a next step.

    Cloven Crest lay before  to form a miniature plateau,  depression in t, cigars, brig, stark  te. trees, no vegetation at all, but in ter of t, a dark grey stone cast a long moonshadow.

    It imes , and looked  it dohe middle.

    Sabriel rue Cer Stone before, but so be  like ter marks running like quicksilver tone, forming and dissolving, only to re-form again, in a neverending story t told of the world.

    ter marks on tone, but till, as frozen as tions, carved into a sculptured stone.

    It   s t about it properly. S of ligter of tone, but forgotten lessons remembered too late told   so. Only some terrible po a Cer Stone.

    So tone, fear rising in oots first groronger and colder, too, out on ting, as its memories of  back remembrance of certain pages of tales of old by little girls in tory, far from the Old Kingdom.

    Fears came ill Sabriel  led to to tone.

    Dark patc it  until Sabriel pus to tone t s .

    umbled back overbalancing into tcone  been cleaned away by rain or snow . .