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. But it's what we
do."
"Well, I'm taking it personally." Woodrow squeaked
hysterically from the doorway, his face pale, his eyes
wide.
Bozdil peered darkly at the straw-haired man. "I didn't
even want you -- we already have a human male speci-
men. You just sort of latched yourself onto my dragon
and barged your way in uninvited."
Woodrow didn't know how to react to that statement.
That there wasn't an empty display case bearing a plaque
with his race on it was only marginally good news. He
knew he had to do something. He could think of only
one thing to do.
"Run for it, Mr. Burrfoot!" the human screamed, grab-
bing the kender and yanking him out of the room, into a
hallway. Stunned, Tasslehoff stumbled over his hoopak,
recovered, and then landed on his feet. Woodrow ran
down hall after hall, the kender in tow. Then, he came to
a door, twisted the knob, and flung the heavy wooden
door open. For a moment, he saw sunlight, then he heard
the most awful roaring. Into the doorway shot the open,
drooling maw of an enormous mountain lion.
Woodrow slammed the door shut and leaped away
from it, panting, waiting for either the gnomes to reap-
pear or the mountain lion to shred the door while he
thought.
"What are we running for?" Tasslehoff asked, never
one to flee a fight. "I've got my hoopak -- well send that
lion packing!" Tasslehoff reached for the doorknob.
Woodrow's hand stayed him. "I have nothing to help
you but a tiny dagger i A lion would tear us apart and eat
us for dinner, hoopak or no hoopak! No offense," he
panted
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