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Satisfied, Barryn Warrex rested his head back. Then an
odd change came over him: His eyes glassed over with a
distant look, as if they were seeing something many years
ago; his ears perked as if they were likewise hearing a voice
from that long ago; and when he spoke, it seemed to be in
the voice of someone else - so very long ago. . . .
Once, when the world was younger, there lived in a
small, thatched cottage on the outskirts of Gateway - where
cottages were a stone's throw from each other - a certain
widower by the name of Aron Dewweb, a weaver by trade,
and his young daughter, Petal, who was considered, if not
THE most beautiful, then certainly among the most
beautiful human girls for miles in any direction. Petal was
slender and delicate, with a long, elegant neck, large brown
eyes, and long fair hair that reached her narrow waist.
It came as no surprise, then, that when Petal reached
marriageable age, she found at her doorstep every young
bachelor who was looking for a wife. These fellows would
wander by the front fence, sometimes pretending to be
going on a stroll, when they'd "by chance" notice the young
girl gardening in her front yard, and they'd begin chatting
with her
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