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. Its hollow
thud might have been the sound of a tomb's closing. Hope,
cherished for all the long hours of the trek up the mountain,
fell abruptly dead. The wood bin was empty.
A brawling wind shrieked around the gaping walls of the
crude shelter, whirling in through the doorless entry and the
broken roof. The storm had caught Tan-is and his friends
unaware at midday. Far below, in the warmer valleys, the
autumn had not yet withered under winter's icy cloak. But
here in the mountains autumn had suddenly become
nothing more substantial than a memory. Esker was a day
and a half's journey behind them. Haven was a two-day trek
ahead. Their only hope of weathering the storm had been
this shelter, one of the few maintained by the folk of Esker
and Haven as a sanctuary for storm-caught travelers. But
now, with the blizzard raging harder, it seemed that their
hope might be as hollow as the empty wood bin.
Behind him the half-elf could hear Tas poking around the
bleak shelter, his bright kender spirit undaunted by the toll
of the journey. There wasn't much to find. Shards of
crockery lay scattered around the hard-packed dirt floor.
The one narrow table that had been the shelter's only
furnishing was now a heap of broken boards and splintered
wood
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