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Flint knew he would get no answers from these derro. He
forced his voice to remain level. "You've already caused me
to burn my bacon with your nonsensical questions, so pass
if you must and I'll return to my charred dinner."
Flint saw the two armed derro separate as they neared
him. Each held his battle-axe at the ready, and Flint looked
at the weapons with momentary envy, thinking of his own,
trail-worn blade.
With growing annoyance, Flint hefted his axe. His body
tingled with energy, anticipating battle. Though he did not
seek a fight with these mountain dwarves, he would be
cursed by Reorx before he'd back down from his hereditary
enemies.
"Can you prove you're not a spy?" asked one, taunting.
Flint stepped to the side, away from the fire. "I could if I
thought enough of such wide-eyed derro scum to be both-
ered with it," he snapped, his patience gone.
The nearest derro flung himself at Flint, his axe whistling
through the air. The hill dwarf darted backward in time to
also avoid the second derro, who charged in low. The two
mountain dwarves' axes met with a sharp clang of steel
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