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. "No, ma'am, I guess not," he mumbled.
This was beyond Gisella's comprehension, so she
dropped the subject entirely and joined everyone else
stretching out on the beach.
Woodrow woke up shortly after dawn. He was disori-
ented at first, until he realized that what everyone had in-
tended to be a short nap had turned into twelve hours of
sleep. Tas was curled up on his side, Gisella was snoring
softly, the gully dwarves were in a heap, squirming occa-
sionally. Woodrow's stomach growled, reminding him
that he hadn't eaten since early the day before. He set off
to the south along the beach in search of something
edible.
The beach extended perhaps a mile before giving way
to rocky outcroppings, gravel, and eroded dirt banks.
Walking along the shore was too difficult after that
point, so Woodrow moved inland. As long as I can still
hear the waves, he thought, I shouldn't get lost.
Before long, Woodrow found a tangled patch of wild
raspberry bushes. He filled his hat with the ripe, red fruit
and sat down for a feast.
His meal was interrupted by the sound of movement
somewhere in the tangle. Woodrow rolled onto his stom-
ach and lay perfectly still, listening. Then he heard the
sound again: the snorting of a horse.
Cautiously, he raised his head. In places, especially
where the berries grew around gnarled trees and boul-
ders, the bushes were taller than Woodrow. Slowly, he
worked his way around the patch, then all of a sudden he
laughed, stood up, and whistled. In the berry patch, con-
tentedly munching, were Gisella's two horses
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