It was no more than a halfhour’s steady climb to the flat top of Clove, though the path grew steeper and more difficult. The wind was strong now and had cleared the sky, the moonlight giving form to the landscape. But without the clouds, it had grown much colder.
Sabriel sidered a Charter-spell for warmth, but she was tired, and the effort of the spell might ore than the gain in warmth. She stopped instead and shrugged on a fleece-lined oilskin that had been handed down from her father. It was a bit worn and toe, needing severe bug-in with her sword-belt and the baldric that held the bells, but it was certainly windproof.
Feeliively warmer, Sabriel resumed climbing up the last, winding portion of the path, where the ine was so steep the pathmakers had resorted to cutting steps out of the graeps now worn and crumbling, proo sliding away underfoot.
So proo sliding, that Sabriel reached the top without realizing it, head down, her eyes searg in the moonli……（内容加载失败！）
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