Egwene and Mat lay sprawled bonelessly, unconscious . . . or dead.

Mat lay still, eyes closed, hands unmoving atop his blankets.

Mat lay there on his back, his mouth still open, staring at her.

Mat lay with his eyes closed and his face pale, but his chest rose and fell in the even rhythm of a deep sleep.

Mat frowned at her, then finally pulled it over his head and laid it beside him.

Mats lay rolled up against the far wall.

Mat lay bundled to his chin, his breathing was a dry rasp.

Mat lay on that table, fully clothed save for coat and boots, eyes closed and face so gaunt that Egwene wanted to cry.

Mat lay as if sleeping, but his face still had that hollow-cheeked gauntness.

I have never been to - " Mat laid a finger across her lips.