A very large chevaline stood stolidly in front of Constable Moore's house, 
somewhere between a Percheron and a small elephant in size and bulk. It was the 
dirtiest object Nell had ever seen in her life—its encrustations alone 
must have weighed hundreds of pounds and were redolent with the scent of night 
soil and stagnant water. A fragment of a mulberry branch, still bearing leaves 
and even a couple of actual berries, had gotten wedged into a flexing joint 
between two adjoining armor plates, and long ropes of milfoil trailed from its 
ankles.