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.
Trapspringer dismounted his pony at the edge of the
area. "We'll camp here for the night. Tomorrow we can
start looking for Damaris."
"Why can't we do some looking tonight?"
"It's too dark already," Trapspringer explained. "This
area's pretty safe in daylight, but I wouldn't want to
wander through it at night. There's no telling what you
might fall into or knock down. Worse still, you never
know what might find you wandering around."
That's reassuring, Phineas thought. Then aloud, he
asked, "What was this place before it became ruined?"
"Now that's an interesting story," said Trapspringer,
collecting sticks for firewood. "Eight interesting stories,
actually. The past of this place depends on who you talk
to. Some say that the elves built it as a shelter for their
dead. Others say that it just sprang up as a natural result
of the Cataclysm. I've talked to people who --"
"To shorten what is shaping up as a very long story,"
interrupted Phineas, "what you're trying to tell me, in as
few words as possible, is that no one knows what these
ruins once were."
"That about sums it up," agreed Trapspringer. "I think
it's safe to assume it was once a city of some size,
though." He gathered a load of firewood and let it roll un-
ceremoniously from his arms.
"I'll start the fire," Phineas offered, feeling awkward
and out of his element. The kender handed him a piece of
flint and he found some good, splintered kindling to
catch the spark.
Trapspringer took several paper-wrapped packages
from a pack on his pony
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