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. The wolf was almost dead, and I felt sorry
for him, so I had to kill him. I forgot that other things
besides humans might fall into the pits. It would have been
... um ... i-ron-ic if I had fallen in. My father taught me that
word. He was good with words. What's your name?"
The goblin hesitated. The kender's chatter was more
than a little annoying and was bound to grow worse, but
playing along with the charade of friendship would keep
the kender off guard for now. Kender were supposed to be
trusting, if unbearably nosy. "Do not have one," he said
stiffly.
"No kidding? No name at all? I've never heard of that
before. Didn't your parents call you anything?"
The goblin had never known his parents, having been
sold into slavery as an infant and having escaped in his
teens. He had been called many things by the human thugs
who had also worked for the moneylender, but none of the
names were worth remembering.
"Eh," the goblin said at last. "Do not know why."
"How strange," the kender said. "I thought everyone
had a name. Mine is ..." The kender stopped, then looked
down in sudden embarrassment as he walked. "Well," he
finished quickly, "what's important is that we're alive, and
that's what counts
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