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. The hay, animals, ma-
nure, rope, stone, and beams blended together into a smell
that was unique, yet each odor could be separated from the
others and identified individually. Flint paused there for a
moment, savoring that aroma.
Chickens roamed throughout, flapping from beam to
beam, picking at the grain mixed in with the fresh straw
scattered across the floor. Three cows tethered in tidy stalls
raised their heads from an oat-filled trough to eye Flint dis-
interestedly. At the rear of the barn, six goats jostled and
clambered over each other to get to the two buckets of water
Ruberick had set inside their pen. A pair of swallows
swooped down from the rafters and out the open door, pass-
ing inches above Flint's scruffy hair. The dwarf ducked re-
flexively, then chuckled at his reaction.
Ruberik stomped into the light from the depths at the
back of the barn, a shiny milking pail in each hand. He saw
Flint, looked surprised, then seemed about to grumble some
insult. He thrust a pail into Flint's hands.
"Let's see if you remember how to milk a cow, city boy,"
Ruberik said, his tone unexpectedly light
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