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The mammoth's eyes clouded with concern. "Oh, it's
not their fault," he said unexpectedly. Seeing Tas's confu-
sion, he said, "Let me start from the beginning...."
Tas made no effort to interrupt.
"Bozdil found me on one of his specimen expeditions
fifteen years ago. I was just a pup at the time, wandering
around in the hills south of Zeriak, or so he says, with no
sign of my mother. He brought me back here, and he and
Ligg thought I was too small to be their woolly mam-
moth specimen. So they just decided to let me grow up."
The mammoth let out another buglelike sigh. Tas took a
handkerchief from his pocket and held it to the end of the
creature's trunk.
"Thank you," it sniffed. "Anyway, they fed me and
played with me -- so I wouldn't become too flabby to be a
good specimen, they said. And I learned to speak. They
treated me like the family pet!" Another shattering snort
of anguish ripped through the room.
The noise jolted Woodrow awake. Moments later, his
white head poked tentatively around the pillar. "Mr.
Burrfoot?"
"Woodrow, meet -- ?" Tas looked at the mammoth
blankly.
"The gnomes call me Winnie," it said. "Even I can't
pronounce the full name they gave me."
Tasslehoff patted one of Winnie's flat-bottomed feet in
a modified handshake. "Tasslehoff Burrfoot."
"Woodrow," the human said dubiously, eyeing the
mammoth.
"Glad to meet you," replied the long-haired mammoth
courteously.
"Woodrow, we've got to think of a way to help Winnie
escape! Bozdil and Ligg mean to kill him!" the kender
said earnestly
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