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"We haven't been out here that long," Woodrow said.
"How long is long enough?" Tas asked genuinely. "I
wasn't bored during the shipwreck, though." He smiled
fondly at the memory. "Things were flying and crashing
about on the deck, the gully dwarves were, well, being
gully dwarves, and Gisella was rolling off the side in the
wagon --" The kender's eyes misted over at the mention
of their fallen friend. The memory of her sacrifice was
fresh in his consciousness.
"Remember before, how we thought she had
drowned?" Woodrow was trying to sound inspirational.
"It turned out she was just fine!"
"That time," Tas said sorrowfully.
"I miss her, too, Mr. Burrfoot."
Tasslehoff set his chin with determination. "I pledged
to return to Kendermore, for Gisella -- to complete her
job -- and to rescue my Uncle Trapspringer." His eyes
sparkled fiercely. "I must!"
"We'll get there somehow," Woodrow promised, his
unblinking eyes staring into the neverending horizon.
Gulls swooped overhead, squawking in their distinctive
voices.
Tas's nose lifted in the air as he sniffed. "Something
smells like my mother's furniture polish. Or maybe it
was her broth." He shrugged. "They may have been the
same thing."
Woodrow picked up the corner of a soiled piece of
parchment. "What could possibly be causing such an aw-
ful smell, anyway?"
"I don't know. Maybe if we find it we can throw it
overboard."
Woodrow picked up a sturdy-looking piece of lumber
and started poking through the refuse. After turning
over several piles, both he and Tas retreated, holding
their noses
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