Gray.  Everything was gray.  The cloaks, the ashes, the sky; all gray.  
Gray was a neutral color.  By wearing it the Riders were all equal, all united 
in a single cause.  And each of them knew if they failed in their cause the 
Shadow Prince would not be pleased.
	But the Navigator knew they would not fail.  True, the boy had escaped 
them, but the girl was in their possession.  The boy would follow.  Strange how 
the colorful had such sympathies.  Perhaps the Navigator felt that way once, 
long ago.  But he no longer remembered much from before the time that he had 
abandoned color to follow the Shadow Prince.
	Several other Riders silently moved about the camp, ten in all.  Eleven 
including the Navigator.  That was the way the Shadow’s Legions worked.  Five 
groups of Eleven made up a Flock, and thirty-three Flocks a Grand Mass.  He had 
been navigating this Eleven for fifteen years.  The Riders had served the 
Shadow well.  Soon, they would show the Shadow Prince ultimate honor.
	The Navigator’s glance shifted to the girl.  She was sitting about 30 
feet away, her back against a tree.  He had thought her weak at first.  She had 
cried for almost two days without stopping.  But today she had an icy, 
determined look in her eyes.  He smiled.  Good, she would need determination in 
order to survive what the Riders were planning.
	The whole world would need determination.
	But the Shadow Prince was determined as well.  The Gray Riders were 
determined.  No, they would not fail.  They knew they were in the right, and 
they could not fail.
	The Navigator pulled his gray cloak tighter around his shoulders.  Soon 
they would all wear gray.  Soon they would all serve the Shadow. 

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