ne. S up and slid it back on her finger.

    Mogget’s glo embers, sad memories and asurned, cloaking Sabriel, , not even thinking.

    A little later, s a soft cat nose against ’s mouth.

    “Your nose is still bleeding,” said a familiar, didactic voice. “Lig some blankets out for us to sleep.

    It’s getting cold.”

    “elcome back, Mogget,” whispered Sabriel.