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. Directly behind him he heard cats
circling, testing, slinking into the thickets by hidden
ways, spreading to flank him on both sides, converging
to head him off. Chane tripped and sprawled, suspended
for a moment in a nest of thorny brush. He pushed on
and stumbled again, and abruptly a fork of seasoned
hardwood was in his hand. He gripped it and followed as
it pulled him forward another step, then two.
"Come on!" the kender shouted. "We don't have all
day!"
With Chess pulling and his own legs pushing, Chane
burst from the entwining thickets and rolled onto clear
ground. He could see nothing except a mass of vines and
thorns in front of his face. He tried to stand, tripped over
vines tangled around his face, and fell again. Behind
him, to the right and left, were the rumbling purrs of big
cats. He braced himself for their attack, and waited.
And nothing happened.
Near at hand, the kender said, "Well, how about that!
I think we've found the 'Way.' "
Pulling and cutting at Chane's cloak of vegetation, the
kender cleared a viewport for him. He looked around.
They were near the center of a wide, open path that led
into forest. The path's surface was black gravel, its
stones glinting in the spangled light like bits of coal. And
alongside the path were several of the huge hunting cats,
glaring and whining, padding this way and that along
the verge of the gravel
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