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. Across the
stream was a different sort of forest, younger and less
brooding. The kender crossed, climbed the far bank, and
prowled around, looking at everything. The trees were
large here too, but younger and more varied. The forest
here spoke of hundreds of years... but not of thou-
sands.
"It burned," something said... or seemed to say.
Chess was not sure whether he had heard words or imag-
ined them. He looked around and there was no one
there. He was alone.
"It might very well have," he told himself. "This might
once have been a forest fire, and all the old trees burned
and the ones here now grew later."
"Much later," something seemed to say.
"I beg your pardon?" The kender turned full circle,
holding his forked staff at the ready. There was no one
there, nor any sign that anyone had been there - at least
in a very long time. The only sound was the fitful breeze
rustling the treetops. He squatted, peering under the
nearby bush, then walked in a wide circle, looking be-
hind trees and under stones. There was no one anywhere
about.
Perplexed and curious, he went on, turning often to
look behind him. He wasn't sure at all that he had heard
anything, but he didn't remember thinking the words
that he had seemed to hear until after he seemed to hear
them
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