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His first concern was for the human's health. Care-
fully holding one of his small hands before the middle-
aged man's nose, the kender was reassured by the even
breathing. The man looked like he'd had a bad night.
He wore a hat that was too small for his balding head,
his pockets were turned inside out, the knee of his
breeches was ripped, and his face had a layer of street
dust on it. But what the kender saw next made him al-
most more concerned than before.
The perfectly good leather boot on the man's right
foot lay carelessly in a puddle.
"He should be more careful with his possessions,"
Wilbur mumbled. "That very nice boot is going to get
wet, and then shrivel up like an old, dried currant. I
certainly can't sit by and watch that happen." With
that, the kender crept forward and gingerly lifted the
man's calf, slipping the boot from his foot. "I'll just
keep it nice and dry in my shop," Wilbur whispered to
himself, satisfied with his good deed. It was such a nice
boot, in fact, that he decided it really deserved to be
kept very safe indeed in the big, locked tin box under
his grocery counter. He was about to take the other
boot to maintain the pair, when the man stirred in his
sleep. Wilbur tiptoed quietly into his shop, holding
one boot.
Phineas Curick drifted half out of sleep, thinking
that his foot felt cold. He tried to ignore the sensation
because he knew his body would ache from top to bot-
tom if he woke up fully. But when he realized his foot
probably felt cold because it was also wet, he awoke
abruptly
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