Sabriel found the first dead Ancelstierran soldier about six miles from the Wall, in the last, fading hours of the afternoon.

The hill she thought was Cloven Crest was a mile or two to the north. She’d stopped to look at its dark bulk, rising rocky and treeless from the snow-covered ground, its peak temporarily hidden in one of the light, puffy clouds that occasionally let forth a shower of snow or sleet.

If she hadn’t stopped, she would probably have missed the frosted-white hand that peeked out of a drift on the other side of the road. But as soon as she saw that, her attention focused and Sabriel felt the familiar pang of death.

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