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Woodrow lingered by a display of stuffed and
mounted hunting birds. The hawks reminded him of his
training as a squire, and he stood in front of the rows of
unblinking owls and falcons, remembering his time at his
Uncle Gordon's home.
Tas and the gnomes didn't miss him as they stopped in
a room whose glass cases varied in size, shape, and color.
They walked slowly past stuffed creatures with plaques
proclaiming their species: dryad, gully dwarf, wood
sprite, mountain dwarf, and elf.
Bozdil stopped before an empty display case with a
plaque at its base that read "kender." He smiled ruefully
and said, "Now do you see why it's so difficult?"
"I see an empty kender case," Tas said stupidly.
"Not for long," Ligg sang.
Tasslehoff still looked puzzled.
"Don't make me say it!" Bozdil cried in anguish. "It's
nothing personal, mind you," he continued quickly, not-
ing Tasslehoff's growing awareness. "But it's our Life
Quest. One of everything on Krynn, so generations from
now our descendants will know what a kender looked
like, just for instance.
"Oh, don't look so revolted!" he continued, noting the
expression on Tas's face. "You think we like doing this?
This isn't what I would have chosen as a Life Quest! How
about you, Ligg?"
Insulted, his brother snorted, "Certainly not! I'd al-
most rather count the number of raisins in muffins, like
Cousin Gleekfub, for the rest of my life's Hmmphh!" He
lifted his nose imperiously.
Bozdil peered at the captives accusingly. "You have no
idea how difficult this job is
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