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. With a rueful chuckle he said aloud,
"I'm naming you Happenstance, little knife, for whatever
it's worth. You stand between us and perdition. I hope
you're up to it."
As he turned to face the approaching carrion crawler, a
flash of light from a fissure in the wall caught Flint's eye.
With no hesitation, he hefted Perian's limp form and
crammed her head first into the crack in the rock, wherever
it led. He pushed her forward as far as possible, but then she
wedged in and Flint could not budge her. "Forgive me, Per-
ian," he muttered as he put his shoulder to her ample seat
and heaved with all his might. The frawl inched forward,
and then suddenly, as if something ahead was tugging on the
other end, she zipped forward and out of sight. Startled,
Flint tried to twist his neck up for a look through the hole,
but a pair of hands grabbed him by the red trim on his tunic
and dragged him, too, through the breach in the wall.
Flint crawled to his knees and saw Perian laying on the
ground before him. He looked up.
Sporting an idiotic grin and a self-important posture was
the filthiest pot-bellied creature the hill dwarf had seen in a
long time
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