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Night now held the mountain in its freezing grip. It
occurred to Tas that Sturm and Tanis had been gone much
longer than they should have been.
Likely, he thought, drifting with the memory of the tune
he heard but couldn't play, it only SEEMED that the waiting
was long. Probably Tanis and Sturm had only been gone a
few hours at most. It would take them that long to get to
where the trees were, find the wood, and fill their packs. He
was certain, though, that if he'd been with them, it wouldn't
take nearly that long to get back. And three could carry
more wood than two. Tanis's reasons for extracting his
promise seemed less clear to Tas now. He wished he had
gone with them!
It might have been the cold that set him to shivering deep
down in his bones. Or the sudden strange turn that the
storm's song took. Whatever it was, Tas found that his
music had faded and left him.
The wind roared and screamed. The snow, falling more
heavily now than it had in the afternoon, was like a gray
woolen curtain. Frustrated, Tas laid aside his pipe and went
to stand by the door.
"Doesn't the wind sound strange?"
Flint did not answer, but stayed still where he sat,
peering out into the storm.
"Flint?"
"I heard you
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