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"What have we here? said one of them, stepping out of
the circle toward Basalt. The derro's corn-yellow hair stuck
out at odd angles, and his unnaturally large eyes reminded
Basalt of two pieces of cold black onyx. But the mountain
dwarf's skin was what was most disconcerting; its blue pale-
ness looked translucent in moonlight.
"Well?" The derro poked Basalt in the chest with the point
of a spear. "You're obviously a hill dwarf," he said, taking in
Basalt's freckle-tanned face, thin leather vest, and muddy
old boots. "We don't like finding hill dwarves near Thor-
bardin. What are you doing way out here?"
Basalt willed his knees to stop shaking as he ransacked his
mind for a response. "I, uh, I was hunting!" he finished
quickly, latching onto the idea. "I'm near Thorbardin?" He
let his eyes go wide with innocence. "I guess I got so carried
away that I didn't notice where I'd wandered off to."
"What are you hunting at night? You hill dwarves don't
see that well in darkness," the derro said, eyeing Basalt skep-
tically. "And no weapons?"
"Raccoon," the young hill dwarf supplied hastily. "You
have to trap 'coon at night, because that's when they come
out of their nests
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