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The little guy was only a hundred paces ahead now,
and the chase was obviously getting to him. The man, on
the other hand, had run after prey all his life. He knew if he
could just get on a good, firm, downhill slope, he was sure
to put the little unbeliever on a spit and collect on his hair.
There was a five-gold bounty paid on kender scalps in
Aldhaven. That was ale for a month. Good-bye, kender.
The kender was fast, though, the man had to give him
that. The little guy's filthy brown hair whipped back and
forth as he ran through briars, splashed through creeks, and
vaulted over rocks in his panicked flight, and his bare feet
were quick and sure, even up dirt slopes. But the kender
didn't have the long legs the human had. The hunter knew
that was how the gods of evil marked their lost children,
with misshapen limbs that mirrored their souls. Some
people killed kender and their wicked kind out of
righteousness, but righteous causes did not impress the
hunter much. Bounty money was reason enough.
The kender disappeared around a ridge, nearly falling
over an exposed tree root. The man put on some speed,
sensing his time was near. He'd never killed a kender
before, though he'd once stabbed an old drunken goblin
behind a barn and had gone for a lost elven boy two
summers ago with a club, battering the lad until not even
his own mother would have recognized him
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