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. "If you must do something, come help
me start a fire."
"With what. Flint?"
"With those old boards and - " Flint thought of the
blocks of wood in his pack. He sighed heavily, regretting
the loss of his whittling wood. "And whatever I have in my
pack."
"All right." But Tas lingered at the doorway. It WAS
wolves howling, he decided firmly, and not the wind. In his
mind's eye he could see them: big, heavy-chested brutes,
gray as a storm sky, eyes bright with hunger, fangs as sharp
as the blade of his own small dagger. They would leap
across the drifts and slink through the hollows, pause to
taste the air with their noses, howl in eerie mourning for
their empty bellies, and lope on again.
His father had also told him that the big gray wolves
could be almost invisible against a snowy sky. Lifting his
head to listen, he thought the howling was closer now. He
wouldn't have to go very far to get just a quick glimpse of
the beasts. Forgetting his promise to Tanis, forgetting the
uncooperative pipe, Tas decided that he simply had to see -
or not see - the wolves.
Checking to be sure that Flint was not watching, Tas
grinned happily and slipped out into the storm.
"Tanis!" He was but an arm's length behind the half-elf
yet Sturm could see Tanis only as a vague, dark shadow
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