“Never thought of it like that. So you’re one of us, finally?”

“No,” Perrin said, putting the puzzle away. “I am who I am. Finally.” He wasn’t certain what had changed within him. But perhaps trying to think it through too much had been the problem in the first place.

He knew that he’d found his balance. He would never become like Noam, the man who had lost himself to the wolf. And that was enough.

Perrin and Elyas waited for a time, watching the army pass. These larger gateways made it much easier to Travel; they’d have all of the fighting men and women through in under an hour. Men raised hands to Perrin, smelling proud. His connection to the wolves did not frighten them; in fact, they actually seemed less worried now that they knew the specifics of it. Before, there had been speculation. Questions. Now, they could begin to grow comfortable with the truth. And proud of it. Their lord was no ordinary man. He was something special.

“I need to leave, Perrin,” Elyas said. “Tonight, if I can.”

“I know. The Last Hunt has begun. Go with them, Elyas. We will meet in the north.”

The aging Warder laid a hand on Perrin’s shoulder. “If we don’t see one another there, perhaps we’ll meet in the dream, my friend.”

“This is the dream,” Perrin said, smiling. “And we will meet again. I will find you, if you are with the wolves. Hunt well, Long Tooth.”

“Hunt well, Young Bull.”

Elyas vanished into the darkness with barely a rustle.

Perrin reached down to the warm hammer at his side. He had thought that responsibility would be another weight upon him. And yet, now that he had accepted it, he actually felt lighter.

Perrin Aybara was just a man, but Perrin Goldeneyes was a symbol created by the people who followed him. Perrin didn’t have a choice about that; all he could do was lead the best he could. If he didn’t, the symbol wouldn’t vanish. The people would just lose faith in it. As poor Aram had.

I’m sorry, my friend, he thought. You I failed most of all. There was no point in looking backward at that. He would simply have to continue forward and do better. “I’m Perrin Goldeneyes,” he said, “the man who can speak to wolves. And I guess that’s a good person to be.”

He kicked Stepper through the gateway. Unfortunately, Perrin Goldeneyes had some killing to do tonight.

Galad awoke as soon as his tent flap rustled. He drove away the vestiges of his dream—a silly thing, of him dining with a dark-haired beauty with perfect lips and cunning eyes—and reached for his sword.

“Galad!” a voice hissed. It was Trom.

“What’s wrong?” Galad asked, hand still on his sword.

“You were right,” Trom said.

“About what?”

“Aybara’s army is back. Galad, they’re on the heights just above us! We only caught sight of them by accident; our men were watching along the road, as you told us.”