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. You've had little
enough to say tonight, Flint."
"I've been working, and listening to your chatter."
Tanis eyed the little carving still nestled in Flint's hands.
He reached for it, asking permission with a questioning
smile. Flint reluctantly gave it over.
Tanis always met Flint's work with his hands first.
"Know what it is with your hands," the old dwarf had
taught him, "before you see what it is with your eyes."
Now the half-elf traced the careful detail, the artful
evocation of wing and feather. "Nice. A wren, is it?"
With a scowl he hoped was forbidding, Flint snatched
the wooden bird away. "Don't you have a home to go to?
Off with you now, and let me get some sleep."
Tanis rose gracefully and dropped a hand to his old
friend's shoulder. "Well, get some then, and don't spend the
night worrying about Tas. He'll be fine."
"Worry? Not me! Not unless it's to worry about the
person who is luckless enough to encounter him on his bird
chase. Talking wrens, indeed. As likely as finding a kender
with a brain that works. Good night, Tanis."
Tanis grinned. "Good night, Flint."
The hard, hollow scent of the cat's hunger filled the
small cottage now. There was murder in the golden tabby's
eyes
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