A rider in a white cloak wheeled his mount, cutting across the boy's path.

The rider wheeled his horse and rode back to the canyon and the Hellborn began to move.

Then, with a wild, triumphant cry, the rider wheeled his horse and galloped back the way he came.

The rider wheeled his horse, and in that instant he saw me.

Then the white-cloaked riders wheeled once more and galloped away.

Shouting in rage and pain, the rider clutched his leg and wheeled his horse away.

The rider wheeled his mount away toward the third squadron.

One rider wheeled on his horse, drawing his bow.

The rider wheeled his horse and walked him toward the camp.

Then suddenly the gray-cloaked riders wheeled in a solid line that barred the Demons' path forward, and the arm of the scar-faced man lifted.