Ferro stood up in her stirrups. 'There are riders,' she barked, staring off at the horizon. 'Forty or more.'
'Where?' snapped Bayaz, shading his eyes. 'I don't see anything.' Nor could Logen. Only the waving grass and the towering clouds.
Longfoot frowned. 'I see no riders, and I am blessed with perfect vision. Why, I have often been told that—'
- Before They Are Hanged, Part I, Long Shadows