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. This was it. This must be some
rendezvous point. The entire band, maybe! He was ready.
But the boy did not run into the trees to welcome a gang
of murderers. He did not call a greeting to comrades.
Instead, he let out a fearful yell and, stumbling over himself,
began running down the hill. Marakion stared curiously into
the trees to see what was following.
A huge ogre burst from the foliage. Sallow and crusty-
skinned, the ogre charged forward with long, quick strides.
Wet brambles and a few straggling pine needles showered
off the creature as it ran, sending snow flying in a blinding
flurry.
Marakion cursed as he watched the ogre closing on the
boy. The damned ogre was ruining everything! Scaring off
Marakion's guide, the ogre might kill the boy before
Marakion could question him!
*****
Gylar's heart beat against his rib cage like a
woodpecker. The snow impeded every step of his short
legs, while the ogre's strides cleared the terrain as though it
were midsummer ground. It was just a matter of time.
Gylar gulped for air as he struggled onward. His mind had
gone numb, and all he could think of was escape. He'd
heard stories about what ogres did to children. . . .
Just at the height of his despair, when the ogre loomed
over him, casting a nightlike shadow that engulfed Gylar,
the strap of his pack slipped off his shoulder.
If Gylar had been thinking straight, he'd have
abandoned his pack and kept going, but he reflexively hung
onto it as it scraped the snow
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