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The village proper was more or less level, and thus had
many wooden structures, certainly more now than Flint
ever remembered. As he came around a bend in the road,
bringing him within sight of the village, he was again sur-
prised at the extent of the changes in Hillhome.
The great wagon yard and forge seemed to serve as a cen-
tral gathering place for work on the heavy, iron-wheeled
freight wagons. The trade route ran east and west, straight
through Hillhome on the Passroad. His view of the yard was
blocked by a high stone fence. New buildings stood
crowded together along the Passroad, extending the town
past the brewery building, which Flint remembered as once
marking the town's western border. Off Main Street, there
were still the neat, stone houses with yards; narrow, smooth
streets; little shops. But the pace of life seemed frantic.
That busyness nettled Flint, for reasons he could not even
explain to himself. He had intended to explore Hillhome, to
see the new sights, but instead he found himself resenting
the changes and heading toward the safety of Moldoon's
once again to enjoy the comfortable familiarity of the place
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