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. If anything, Woodrow's eyes were shut
tighter than his grip on the dragon's tail.
Faster and faster they dove, straight down toward the
carousel. Dwarves scattered in every direction as the ter-
rifying beast plummeted toward them. At the last mo-
ment, the dragon pulled out of its dive and raced across
the green, raising a cloud of leaves and dust in its wake.
Tasslehoff had spotted the tiny gnome dancing a jig
near his controls. "I guess it's working the way it's sup-
posed to," he hollered to no one in particular. Mere
inches from the ground, the dragon expanded its wings
and pulled up into a nearly vertical climb. Tasslehoff
threw his arms around the saddle to keep from falling off
backward.
The piercing scream from behind alerted Tas that he
was not alone on the wild ride. Twisting in the saddle, he
saw Woodrow, white as an elven shroud, wrapped
around the dragon's tail. Directly behind Woodrow was
the ground, receding at an alarming rate, and Gisella,
shaking a finger at the gnome. "Woodrow! What are you
doing here?" bellowed Tas. "Hey, Gisella looks much
smaller from way up here! Isn't this great!"
But Woodrow knew that if he opened his mouth he
would scream. So he just shook his head furiously, until
he felt himself rolling over on his back. Too frightened to
keep his eyes closed, he opened one to find out what was
happening. He saw the dragon's back, Mr. Burrfoot --
who had apparently gone quite insane from terror -- and
the sky, which rolled past from top to bottom
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