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07-01-2002, 06:12 AM | #11 |
Ghastly Neekerbreeker
Join Date: Dec 2001
Location: the banks of the mighty Scioto
Posts: 1,751
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Birdie had spent a miserable night on the hard ground. As she sat up, aching in every joint, she debated whether she should stick with her traveling companions, (and well-armed traveling companions at that) or give in to the temptation of staying here in camp for another day, just so she could get a good night's sleep.
Her fellow campers were stirring around her, trying to start the cold fire again, packing up haversacks, stretching sore muscles and working out a night of kinks in their joints. The one who called himself Gandalf was standing towards the edge of the road, talking with the mysterious elf-girl. Suddenly, she heard a perky voice beyond them, asking "Excuse me sir, might we pass?" Birdie looked up with a start, then smiled. "Well as I live and breath...Holly Stoor!" [ July 01, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ] |
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