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Tasslehoff's slight frame was tossed about like a ball, but the kender
giggled with joy at the madcap dash, though he clutched the buckboard
to keep from being tossed to the ground. Brisk wind stung his eyes
into tears of laughter.
But suddenly, looking beyond the horses, Tasslehoff blinked
hard. Were his eyes just blurry, he wondered, or did -- ?
"Look!" he cried, pointing ahead down the road. Gisella squinted
in the direction of his finger. But her day vision was not as keen as
her night vision when, like all dwarves, she could see partially into
the infrared. Her vision got fuzzy some twenty feet ahead of the
horses.
She saw nothing untoward, so she continued on.
What Tasslehoff was trying to point out but she could not see
was that the road simply stopped, as if the builders had walked away
before finishing it, some fifty yards ahead.
Abruptly the galloping horses skidded unceremoniously into a
swamp, dragging the wagon bearing three unwitting passengers.
Tasslehoff sailed through the air, leggings over topknot, to land
between two squishy lumps of grass-covered ground known as bogs.
Lifting his hands out of four inches of cold, muddy water, he shook
the slimy green swamp gook from them and stood up. The kender looked
sourly at his once-clean leggings.
Taking a step toward the wagon, he tripped over an underground
bog and landed face-first in the water. Gods, it was cold! he thought.
Jerking himself out and up again, he held on to the wagon and shook
his head like a wet dog
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