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Head bowed, his twin followed.
Harvests
Nancy Varian Berberick
Flint squinted up at the patches of fading blue sky
showing through the forest's skeletal cover. Golden
light slanted down from a westering autumn sun. The thought of
another night in this gloomy woods did nothing to improve his
mood, already soured by two restless nights. Wicked whispers and
dread-filled moans were this forest's night song. He shivered and
caught himself tapping the haft of his battle-axe. There was
something wrong in these woods, and thoughts of Solace and
home never seemed more welcome to the old dwarf than they had
on this journey.
The dwarf glowered at Tanis. Blast the young half-elf's curious
nature! So he hadn't been out of his homeland of Qualinesti that
long. Did that mean he had to lead them down every cowpath in
search of adventure? And wasn't he, Flint Fireforge, a respectable
dwarven businessman, old enough to know better?
Flint heaved a disgruntled sigh. He guessed not-or he
wouldn't be in this predicament, lost in some gloomy forest that
wasn't on his map.
"Are you going to be peering at the dirt much longer," he
grumbled, "or can we look for a camp site?"
Tanis, moving on Flint's heels and inspecting the ground to the
left of the root-webbed path, gestured for Flint to join him. "Look
at this."
The bushes and frost-seared grass to the side of the path were
bent and trampled, marking a departure into the forest
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