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Woodrow had managed to stay with the wagon when the road
stopped. Now he was scrambling down to calm the hysterical horses, who
were up to their fetlocks in water, their eyes wide with fright.
"My outfit! It's ruined!"
Gisella's shrieks came from the other side of the horses, to the
left of the wagon. Woodrow carefully picked his way through the bogs,
sometimes sinking as high as his knees in the mud, until he found the
female dwarf.
Gisella was sitting in the swamp, legs sprawled, arms propping
her up from behind. She was covered to her ample chest with murky
water. Only two inches of her outfit was still orange. The dwarf gave
a start as a frog leaped from her shoulder into the dark, sludgy
water.
Spitting a thick strand of wet, red hair from her mouth and
eyes, she spotted the kender, who had stepped around the wagon next to
Woodrow. Gisella glared at him. "I don't suppose this swamp was on
your map, either? Or is this your idea of a fun little surprise?"
Gisella sat on the top step at the back of the wagon, resignedly
pouring muddy water from her raspberry boots. "They'll never be the
same," she said morosely. "And I traded one of the best nights of my
life --" she caught the kender staring at her "-- uh, never mind what
I traded."
She had changed her clothes, putting on a conservative (for
Gisella, anyway) purple tunic with pants and plain black work boots.
Tasslehoff's leggings were clinging to his skin and they itched
horribly, but he did not have a spare pair
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