Neit mentioned t  s particularly  to remember a , in an apologetic e ’s alter ego, or  ruction by the wind.

    As sed, dao a level approximating t.

    Sabriel could read and see te clearly, but to indistinct gloom ty or ty yards away.

    Not t t—perer, not ty s  unnel entrances into tunnels ake, as ter in ttle c  noweau near Abhorsen’s house.

    te igated by proximity to titude t could easily be sealevel or belo least a hundred yards deep.

    Still, een of er gurgling by e content to sloucly scorco ice of evilsmelling tanmaril leaves to range sunburn.

    matter o treatment. It  broken—merely ed  too muco clean off completely.

    Mogget, after an ered off to explore, refusing Sabriel’s offer of  for breakfast. Sed , or sometizing, instead. In a  lay tle  ill disturbing.

    Even so, tle disc surrounded by ter circumference of tarted to unnel ick and complaining quietly as every bruise reminded s location.

    Of course, just as sing a candle at tunnel entrance Mogget reappeared behind her.

    “Looking for me?” ly.

    “er, for instance.”

    “Useful?” mused Mogget, rubbing stretc legs.

    “Pereresting, certainly. ater? Yes.”

    “oo ay. “And eresting mean? Dangerous?”

    “Not far, by tunnel,” replied Mogget.

    “ttle danger getting trap and a fes, but not eresting part, you will o see for yourself, Abhorsen.”

    “Sabriel,” said Sabriel automatically, as sried to t least t, but no more t. Every day lost before s