The High Druid's Blade: the Defenders of Shannara
“They were given blankets, which was a good thing since it was chilly at night in Eusta, even as far south as it was, and the wind blew constantly. The cold didn’t bother Paxon nearly so much as the wind’s constant moan—a sound that sent shivers up his spine and suggested the presence of creatures he would rather not encounter.
When he rose the next morning, Starks was already up along with the sun, wrapped in his black robes and standing at the doors of the loft looking down on the shabby business district below. A few men and women were on the street—there was only one—making their various ways from door to door, going about their personal business. There was nothing about their behavior to indicate that something was out there waiting to kill them off.
Paxon walked over to stand beside Starks. For a few moments, he didn’t say anything, merely stood with him observing the town. “Did you mean what you said to Struen yesterday?”
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