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. Please say you're alive."
The goblin licked his lips. His mouth felt very dry, and
it tasted awful. "Yes," he said. It hurt to speak; the wind
almost carried his voice away.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here," the kender said, choking back
his sobs. His hands continued to clean the goblin's face. "I
got lost last night because of the explosion and the wind,
and I crashed in some bushes. I came down far away and
kept falling over things and getting stuck in briars and
almost twisted my ankle. What happened?"
"Fight," the goblin managed to say. Was the kender
going to talk him to death? He suspected that he was dying
anyway. Then he remembered. "Minotaur," he whispered
fearfully, trying to look around.
"The minotaur's over there." The kender waved an arm
blindly to his right. "I'm sorry. He ... he's dead." The
kender started to cry again but fought it down. "The
humans killed him with the gem sword. The elf's dead, too.
The humans beat him up. I don't want you to die, too."
With a sudden effort, the goblin forced himself to sit
up a few inches and looked in the direction the kender had
indicated. The minotaur lay collapsed in a dirty brown
heap, the sword's silver blade protruding from its back
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