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"It's good to see you again, old friend," said Flint sincerely,
raising his mug and taking a long pull. He wiped his foamy
mouth with the back of his hand and said happily, "None
better!"
"Not Flint Fireforge!"
Flint heard a frawl's voice coming from around Mol-
doon's right arm. She stepped around to the innkeeper's
side, and Flint recognized her as the one he had seen lugging
kegs from the wagon outside. Indeed, as Moldoon drew her
forward, Flint noticed that she still held one on her left
shoulder. Staring unabashedly at Flint, she lowered it to the
ground. Her hair was the yellow-orange color of overripe
corn, and she wore it in long braids on either side of her full,
rose-red cheeks. She wore tight leather pants and a red tu-
nic, belted tight, revealing an unusually tiny waist for a
frawl.
Flint gave her a friendly, almost apologetic smile. "Yes, I
am, but I'm sorry, I don't remember you."
Moldoon threw an arm down around her shoulders.
"Sure you do! This is Hildy, Brewmaster Bowlderston's
daughter. She's taken over his business since he's been ill."
Hildy thrust her hand forward over the bar and gripped
Flint's firmly
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