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It was a sad and sorry camp, as was the dwarf camp
just beyond. Everywhere, there were injured people.
And everywhere there was grief.
Chane sat apart for a time, talking with the human
chief, Camber Meld. Then he curled up and went to
sleep, wondering how he was to follow the path of the
old warrior, Grallen, if that path led right into a fresh
nest of armed goblins and bloodthirsty ogres.
Chestal Thicketsway, still wide awake and excited by
the rate at which new adventures were coming along,
roamed about the two camps for a time, then climbed a
hill and sat on top of it, watching the moons creep across
the sky.
In the distance, he could see the hooded fires of the ref-
ugee camps, where Chane Feldstone slept. The kender
felt at his side and frowned. He didn't have his pouch
with him. He had left it with his pack, back there at the
camp. And he had his hoopak, but no pebbles. Immedi-
ately Chess scouted around and found several good peb-
bles. He then felt much more comfortable.
It was oddly quiet, he noticed. Not so much as a
whimper from Zap. Chess's eyes widened, and he
whirled to look again at the distant fires, abruptly realiz-
ing that he was a long way from Spellbinder. 'Whoops,"
he muttered. Turning full circle, slowly, speaking dis-
tinctly, he said, "Now, listen, Zap, I think we ought to
talk about this
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