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Within an hour, they had stew on, and the Lady Drule
handed a tureen to Gorge III. He sniffed, tasted, and
proclaimed, "This superi . . . excep . . . pretty good stew!
What in it?"
"Cave bear an' skinny green plant," she said. "An'
mushroom an' tall-grass seed an' leftover bird nest."
He took another sip and nodded. "Good stuff. Best I...
CAVE BEAR? Where get cave bear?"
Offhandedly, Drule pointed at the hulking Krog, who
was waiting for the crowd around the stew pot to disperse
so that he could finish the pot. "Krog get," she said. "Krog
not much for hunt rats, but bash bears real good."
"Krog," the Highbulp said, scowling in thought as he
studied the amiable monster. He hadn't really thought much
about Krog since the first shock of encounter, but when he
did, troubling notions tumbled around in his head. He
glanced at Drule suspiciously. "Krog call you Mama," he
said. "You been up to somethin', dear?"
"Krog lost, needed mama." She shrugged. "Keeps
callin' me that."
"Oh." Gorge sipped at his stew, relieved but still
troubled. "Dear, wha' happen to Talls at slave camp? Some-
thin' squash 'em?"
"Mostly Krog," she explained. "He got th' hang of
bashin' Talls pretty quick. Had lotta fun."
"Hmph!" Gorge sat in thought for a time, then asked,
"How you an' others find us?"
Again she pointed at the huge creature nearby. "Krog
find place. Krog pretty handy have around, right?"
"Right." The Highbulp scowled. Tossing aside his
empty tureen, he stalked away, sulking
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