http://hi.baidu.com/cnshqlaiyqbcfld/item/560ff69f76db764b924f41ab?bunngluanzhw8grustling green roof that shut out even the moon, so it seemed as though they were moving
up a long black tunnel. But the mules were surefooted and tireless, and Mya Stone did indeed seem
blessed with night-eyes. They plodded upward, winding their way back and forth across the face of the
mountain as the steps twisted and turned. A thick layer of fallen needles carpeted the path, so the shoes
of their mules made only the softest sound on the rock. The quiet soothed her, and the gentle