[The man isn't merely ill, clearly, his glazed black eyes suddenly intent, predatory, and focused. The other farmers are scrambling back, tripping over each other in their haste to get away as the sick man shuffles to his feet, jerky and uncoordinated at first, like a puppet with its strings all tangled. But his movement becomes more assured all too quickly as he starts thrashing violently. One poor farmer, caught unexpectedly by a flailing arm, hits the floor of the wagon with a thud and a cry of pain.
Unable to reach for the Source, Elayne reaches for the next best thing: a hefty bag of wheat. She swings it with all her might, landing a blow square beneath the man's chin, causing his head to snap back from the force of it.]
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Unable to reach for the Source, Elayne reaches for the next best thing: a hefty bag of wheat. She swings it with all her might, landing a blow square beneath the man's chin, causing his head to snap back from the force of it.]