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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 7577376" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 267</p><p></p><p>Drazakatharas was not happy.</p><p></p><p>The young black snapped the butt of his spear against the ground as he walked, expressing his displeasure with each loud crack of the weapon. It was a gesture of pique and he hated himself for that, and for the fact that he’d only started doing it when he was outside of the central ring of huts that made up the core of the village.</p><p></p><p>The breeze was following him as he departed, and so he could still smell the tantalizing scents of the feast that was being prepared. It was not fair. First he had missed the raid, and now he was going to miss the feast celebrating the unexpected bounty. He’d only gotten a brief look at the creatures the hunters had brought back—so hideous looking, like hairless tabaxi! But they’d had great riches with them, weapons and tools made of metal, strange garments, and other things that had been claimed by Natakaskinderoth himself. Draz hadn’t seen those things, of course, but the rumor mill was already churning. There was even a report that the leader of the pink-skinned things was a tiny imp who possessed powerful magic.</p><p></p><p>Draz’s expression soured further as he saw who was at the outpost. Zharasavakkar saw him approaching and tapped his brother, Zhavekadranas, on the arm. Zhavek had a new dagger displayed prominently on his belt, his share of the riches won on the raid. The big green noted his attention and grinned as he tapped the hilt of the weapon.</p><p></p><p>“Too bad you missed the raid, Draz,” Zhavek said. “A rich haul, rich indeed.”</p><p></p><p>“And now you are going to miss the feast,” Zharas added. “Such misfortune.”</p><p></p><p>The two greens let out a hooting cackle that was only about their tenth most annoying feature, as far as Draz was concerned. He shouldered his spear and started past them, but Zhavek said, “Hey, Draz. Don’t be sour. Here, I saved you something from the raid.” Draz stopped as the green produced something from his hunting pouch.</p><p></p><p>“What is it?”</p><p></p><p>Zhavek grinned. “One of them was wearing it on its foot. Go ahead, take it! See if it fits!”</p><p></p><p>The two greens laughed, but Draz took the item. The awkward thing could not possibly fit him, of course, but the leather-work was quite good; he could maybe make it into an arm-wrap or a pouch.</p><p></p><p>Zhavek’s mirth faded a bit as he realized that Draz intended to keep the joke-gift. “Go on,” he said. “Shrevak will be happy to see you. I know he’s eager to be back in time for the feast.”</p><p></p><p>“I wonder how those things taste,” Zharas said.</p><p></p><p>“Hopefully better than they look!” Zhavek said.</p><p></p><p>The two laughed again. “Go on then, kinless,” Zharas said.</p><p></p><p>Draz had started to turn away but froze, then slowly turned back. Zhavek seemed to have realized they’d gone too far, for he touched his brother on the arm and then shifted his hand to rest on the handle of his new knife. Their wariness was unnecessary, as all of them knew that Draz would earn far worse if he brawled while on guard duty, but the moment of tension stretched out nevertheless.</p><p></p><p>Finally Draz relaxed and showed his teeth. “Perhaps I will see you again, after the feast, Zharas,” he said.</p><p></p><p>The green recovered quickly, but there was something forced in his laughter. The two resumed their banter as Draz started ahead toward the far sentry post where he would spend the entirety of the feast on watch-duty.</p><p></p><p>But Draz had only gotten a few steps away when he came to a sudden stop. He stood there, holding his spear, trying to discern what had alerted him. He was young, the veteran of only a handful of hunts, but he had the instincts of his ancestors, a race of apex predators. The jungle quickly grew thick beyond the edge of the village, so he couldn’t see anything beyond about a dozen steps, let alone all the way out to the sentry post.</p><p></p><p>The greens had started bickering over something and didn’t even notice that he was still there. Draz toned them out, focusing his senses on the forest.</p><p></p><p>Despite his concentration, he still started a bit in surprise when the creature emerged from behind a tree a scant fifteen steps ahead.</p><p></p><p>It was instantly obvious that the thing was another of the hairless beings that the hunters had captured in the raid. He had no idea where this one had come from, or how it had gotten past Shrevakalosar. It truly was hideous, with pale skin lacking both scales and color. It was small and thin and looked almost frail. It had something in its hands, and as it lifted it Draz tensed and raised his spear. But the object didn’t look like a weapon; it resembled a tabour, of all things. That similarity was confirmed a moment later as the creature ran its fingers across the front of the object and a stream of music came out.</p><p></p><p>The melody was haunting, even beautiful, but Draz barely heard it before a wave of pure and utter terror came over him. He let out a scream and ran back toward the village. The green brothers stared at him in utter shock, but he hardly noticed them; all he could feel was his fear and the urge to get away.</p><p></p><p>The terror didn’t begin to ease until he was back at the edge of the village. He could now hear the signal horns, and as he came to a stop the echoing call of the war drums summoning the tribe to fight. As the fear ebbed it was replaced with a massive sense of shame. He didn’t even have his spear; he must have dropped it as he fled.</p><p></p><p>Hunters were emerging from the outer huts, armed with hastily-grabbed spears, war clubs, and axes. Most were blacks, with a few greens from the inner huts beginning to join them. One of the former stopped him and called out a question: what was the threat? Draz couldn’t speak, he just shook his head. He fell in with the hunters as they made their way back toward the outpost he had left just moments before. One of them saw that he was weaponless and offered him a light throwing spear. Draz took it with a bark of thanks.</p><p></p><p>As they approached the outpost he didn’t see either of the green brothers, but the jungle was a scene of major confusion. It looked like there was some fighting over by the northern outpost, but he couldn’t clearly make out anything through the dense growth. Some of the hunters with him headed in that direction. More were coming from the village, but Draz didn’t see any sign of Natakaskinderoth. The drums continued to pound, their deep pulsing beat like a throbbing within Draz’s skull.</p><p></p><p>One of the blacks in front of him suddenly staggered and nearly fell. As he turned, Draz saw that there was a tiny spear with a feathered end sticking out of his shoulder. He turned and saw enemies moving in the jungle to his right, not thirty steps distant. He recognized the fast-moving outlines of tabaxi, but then his jaw dropped as he saw a bulky figure, almost as large as he was, clad in what looked like a coat of metal. As he moved through the jungle stray beams of sunlight struck the plates, causing them to blaze brightly.</p><p></p><p>Draz belatedly opened his mouth to shout a warning, but several others had already spotted the new threat and were turning to face it. Half a dozen hunters charged forward into the brush, only to suddenly freeze and then scatter in every direction, screaming. Draz felt a cold feeling clutch at his gut in memory. He scanned the nearby jungle and finally spotted the creature with the tabour.</p><p></p><p>A huntleader had joined the group at some point during their approach, and barked a command. Draz lifted his spear, but hesitated. He did not want to admit that he was afraid of drawing the creature’s attention, but there was no denying that it was true.</p><p></p><p>But there were plenty of other hunters who obeyed the command and hurled their spears. But even as the barrage of missiles was unleashed the strange creature was playing its instrument again. The air between the two groups began to shimmer, and Draz heard a deep rushing roar. As the spears hit that disturbance they were caught and flung high into the air. They vanished into the jungle harmlessly. Not a single one had come anywhere near its target.</p><p></p><p>The huntleader was shouting new commands, urging them forward. Draz saw that he wasn’t the only one hesitating this time. He heard a loud bellow behind him and almost sagged with relief.</p><p></p><p>He glanced back to see one of the <em>hukkar</em> surging toward them. The hulking red wore fresh graa-markings upon his crest, a warning to both friends and foes that he had embraced the blood rage triggered by the ritual plant. He carried a huge axe in both hands, sweeping it back and forth as though it was a bamboo switch. Draz was only too happy to get out of his way. He crouched low as the berserker rushed past, careful to present nothing that could be interpreted as a threat or challenge to the red’s drug-addled mind.</p><p></p><p>Once the red was clear Draz rose up again. He hefted his throwing-spear so it looked like he was doing something, but he knew that it would only be a waste of his weapon to attempt a throw while the barrier of rushing winds was in effect.</p><p></p><p>The hukkar did not hesitate, plunging through the barrier. For a moment Draz though that he too would be thrown up into the air, but the hulking red’s bulk carried him through with just a slight hitch in his stride. Draz couldn’t see the metal-clad creature, but another foe had stepped forward to face the raging berserker. This one also wore metal, though it was of a different sort, a flowing garment that clung to the outlines of his form. It was so amazing that Draz didn’t at first notice his weapon, a straight bar of metal that was almost as big as the hukkar’s axe.</p><p></p><p>The red shrieked a challenge and rushed forward at his foe. The creature held its ground, itself an impressive feat with that berserk hulk charging toward it. It moved well, avoiding the first massive swing of the axe and then swinging its weapon in an arc that bit into the hukkar’s hide and unleashed a spray of blood that Draz could see clearly even from more than thirty paces away.</p><p></p><p>But he doubted that the metal-clad warrior knew that by claiming first blood, it would drive the hukkar into a frenzy.</p><p></p><p>Draz could only watch spellbound as the two foes engaged in a wild melee. There was other fighting going on around them, the strange warrior’s friends fighting with some of the hunters that had braved the wind-barrier, but those battles seemed to fade into the background as the two titans exchanged blows. At first it seemed as though there was no way that the smaller creature could withstand the hukkar’s rage, but somehow it did. At one point it avoided a swing that should have chopped it in half; Draz knew all too well how sharp those huge blades were. There was something, a flash of reddish light that he didn’t quite make out clearly. But the result was obvious; the berserker staggered to the side, off-balance, and the alien warrior was countering with his own weapon. Time seemed to slow down as Draz watched the glittering metal slab come swinging around. A stray sunbeam caused it to glow, and for an instant it seemed that it had become a stream of fire. The hukkar was struck a blow so mighty that Draz thought he could almost feel it in his own body. He stumbled back. Draz waited for a final effort, but watched in stunned shock as the berserker toppled to the ground.</p><p></p><p>“Fight!” a voice shouted in his ear. “Fight, you cursed piece of dung, or I’ll kill you where you stand!”</p><p></p><p>Draz started and looked up to see the hunt leader standing over him, his war-club raised threateningly. He flinched and hefted his spear. He hesitated for an instant, but the shimmer of the barrier was gone. He targeted the warrior standing over the fallen hukkar and drew back his arm for the cast.</p><p></p><p>But before he could release the weapon, a bright beam of light slashed past him, blinding him for an instant. He heard a grunt of pain and saw the hunt leader, his chest scorched black. The veteran hunter was staring down at a glowing aura of sparkling light that surrounded his body.</p><p></p><p>That was enough for Draz. He took advantage of the distraction to seek cover. He didn’t run far, moving maybe fifteen paces to an old stump substantial enough to offer some concealment. He slowly popped his head up to take a look.</p><p></p><p>He was surprised to see that the enemy was retreating, falling back into the jungle. The reason became obvious a moment later when Draz heard a guttural chant coming from the village. A full cohort of half a dozen hukkar, accompanied by one of the underpriests, was emerging from the outer ring of huts. More hunters accompanied them, but they trailed behind the wedge of berserkers. The chant was coming from the underpriest, who was adding markings to the huge reds as they marched, throwing handfuls of powdered graa into their faces. The powder was not as potent as the concentrated juice that was extracted from the plant, but it worked faster. Draz could see the berserkers pick up their pace as the drug took effect. He looked back at the intruders, who were now almost invisible within the jungle. He could almost feel pity for them. He glanced back at the village, but there was no sign of Natakaskinderoth or his shaman, Rukakaverok. That was strange… why had the tribal chief not joined the hunt?</p><p></p><p>Such musings did not distract him from watching the pursuit of the intruders. Curiosity drew him out of his cover, and he fell in with the other hunters who were following a safe distance behind the berserkers. The six hukkar were now rushing forward toward the jungle, deep growls of anticipation coming from their throats.</p><p></p><p>But as they approached the wall of green the reds came to a sudden stop. Draz tensed, expecting some other disaster to be unleashed upon them. But the berserkers just stood there. The hunters likewise stopped, not sure what was happening, warily scanning the jungle for danger.</p><p></p><p>One of the reds suddenly clutched at his head and unleashed a terrible scream. A second one turned and without warning drove his axe down into the shoulder of his neighbor. The injured hukkar staggered but managed to get his own weapon around, slashing his attacker’s leg open. Another of the reds suddenly turned and sprinted into the jungle, while the last two drew back, apparently bewildered by what was happening.</p><p></p><p>The underpriest rushed forward, trying to restore some kind of order to the situation. He ran up to the screaming red, trying to calm him. But as the berserker turned around the priest must have seen something in his eyes, for he suddenly stopped and began to retreat. That didn’t help him as the red leapt forward and buried his axe deep in the priest’s skull.</p><p></p><p>Draz abruptly realized that he was only a few paces away from the closest of the hukkar. Most of the other hunters had pulled back further, as confused as the berserkers by the look of them. Draz turned and ran back to the village. This time he didn’t stop until he was back in the dubious shelter of his slumped and leaky hut, where he crawled under his bed pad and covered his head with his arms.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 7577376, member: 143"] Chapter 267 Drazakatharas was not happy. The young black snapped the butt of his spear against the ground as he walked, expressing his displeasure with each loud crack of the weapon. It was a gesture of pique and he hated himself for that, and for the fact that he’d only started doing it when he was outside of the central ring of huts that made up the core of the village. The breeze was following him as he departed, and so he could still smell the tantalizing scents of the feast that was being prepared. It was not fair. First he had missed the raid, and now he was going to miss the feast celebrating the unexpected bounty. He’d only gotten a brief look at the creatures the hunters had brought back—so hideous looking, like hairless tabaxi! But they’d had great riches with them, weapons and tools made of metal, strange garments, and other things that had been claimed by Natakaskinderoth himself. Draz hadn’t seen those things, of course, but the rumor mill was already churning. There was even a report that the leader of the pink-skinned things was a tiny imp who possessed powerful magic. Draz’s expression soured further as he saw who was at the outpost. Zharasavakkar saw him approaching and tapped his brother, Zhavekadranas, on the arm. Zhavek had a new dagger displayed prominently on his belt, his share of the riches won on the raid. The big green noted his attention and grinned as he tapped the hilt of the weapon. “Too bad you missed the raid, Draz,” Zhavek said. “A rich haul, rich indeed.” “And now you are going to miss the feast,” Zharas added. “Such misfortune.” The two greens let out a hooting cackle that was only about their tenth most annoying feature, as far as Draz was concerned. He shouldered his spear and started past them, but Zhavek said, “Hey, Draz. Don’t be sour. Here, I saved you something from the raid.” Draz stopped as the green produced something from his hunting pouch. “What is it?” Zhavek grinned. “One of them was wearing it on its foot. Go ahead, take it! See if it fits!” The two greens laughed, but Draz took the item. The awkward thing could not possibly fit him, of course, but the leather-work was quite good; he could maybe make it into an arm-wrap or a pouch. Zhavek’s mirth faded a bit as he realized that Draz intended to keep the joke-gift. “Go on,” he said. “Shrevak will be happy to see you. I know he’s eager to be back in time for the feast.” “I wonder how those things taste,” Zharas said. “Hopefully better than they look!” Zhavek said. The two laughed again. “Go on then, kinless,” Zharas said. Draz had started to turn away but froze, then slowly turned back. Zhavek seemed to have realized they’d gone too far, for he touched his brother on the arm and then shifted his hand to rest on the handle of his new knife. Their wariness was unnecessary, as all of them knew that Draz would earn far worse if he brawled while on guard duty, but the moment of tension stretched out nevertheless. Finally Draz relaxed and showed his teeth. “Perhaps I will see you again, after the feast, Zharas,” he said. The green recovered quickly, but there was something forced in his laughter. The two resumed their banter as Draz started ahead toward the far sentry post where he would spend the entirety of the feast on watch-duty. But Draz had only gotten a few steps away when he came to a sudden stop. He stood there, holding his spear, trying to discern what had alerted him. He was young, the veteran of only a handful of hunts, but he had the instincts of his ancestors, a race of apex predators. The jungle quickly grew thick beyond the edge of the village, so he couldn’t see anything beyond about a dozen steps, let alone all the way out to the sentry post. The greens had started bickering over something and didn’t even notice that he was still there. Draz toned them out, focusing his senses on the forest. Despite his concentration, he still started a bit in surprise when the creature emerged from behind a tree a scant fifteen steps ahead. It was instantly obvious that the thing was another of the hairless beings that the hunters had captured in the raid. He had no idea where this one had come from, or how it had gotten past Shrevakalosar. It truly was hideous, with pale skin lacking both scales and color. It was small and thin and looked almost frail. It had something in its hands, and as it lifted it Draz tensed and raised his spear. But the object didn’t look like a weapon; it resembled a tabour, of all things. That similarity was confirmed a moment later as the creature ran its fingers across the front of the object and a stream of music came out. The melody was haunting, even beautiful, but Draz barely heard it before a wave of pure and utter terror came over him. He let out a scream and ran back toward the village. The green brothers stared at him in utter shock, but he hardly noticed them; all he could feel was his fear and the urge to get away. The terror didn’t begin to ease until he was back at the edge of the village. He could now hear the signal horns, and as he came to a stop the echoing call of the war drums summoning the tribe to fight. As the fear ebbed it was replaced with a massive sense of shame. He didn’t even have his spear; he must have dropped it as he fled. Hunters were emerging from the outer huts, armed with hastily-grabbed spears, war clubs, and axes. Most were blacks, with a few greens from the inner huts beginning to join them. One of the former stopped him and called out a question: what was the threat? Draz couldn’t speak, he just shook his head. He fell in with the hunters as they made their way back toward the outpost he had left just moments before. One of them saw that he was weaponless and offered him a light throwing spear. Draz took it with a bark of thanks. As they approached the outpost he didn’t see either of the green brothers, but the jungle was a scene of major confusion. It looked like there was some fighting over by the northern outpost, but he couldn’t clearly make out anything through the dense growth. Some of the hunters with him headed in that direction. More were coming from the village, but Draz didn’t see any sign of Natakaskinderoth. The drums continued to pound, their deep pulsing beat like a throbbing within Draz’s skull. One of the blacks in front of him suddenly staggered and nearly fell. As he turned, Draz saw that there was a tiny spear with a feathered end sticking out of his shoulder. He turned and saw enemies moving in the jungle to his right, not thirty steps distant. He recognized the fast-moving outlines of tabaxi, but then his jaw dropped as he saw a bulky figure, almost as large as he was, clad in what looked like a coat of metal. As he moved through the jungle stray beams of sunlight struck the plates, causing them to blaze brightly. Draz belatedly opened his mouth to shout a warning, but several others had already spotted the new threat and were turning to face it. Half a dozen hunters charged forward into the brush, only to suddenly freeze and then scatter in every direction, screaming. Draz felt a cold feeling clutch at his gut in memory. He scanned the nearby jungle and finally spotted the creature with the tabour. A huntleader had joined the group at some point during their approach, and barked a command. Draz lifted his spear, but hesitated. He did not want to admit that he was afraid of drawing the creature’s attention, but there was no denying that it was true. But there were plenty of other hunters who obeyed the command and hurled their spears. But even as the barrage of missiles was unleashed the strange creature was playing its instrument again. The air between the two groups began to shimmer, and Draz heard a deep rushing roar. As the spears hit that disturbance they were caught and flung high into the air. They vanished into the jungle harmlessly. Not a single one had come anywhere near its target. The huntleader was shouting new commands, urging them forward. Draz saw that he wasn’t the only one hesitating this time. He heard a loud bellow behind him and almost sagged with relief. He glanced back to see one of the [i]hukkar[/i] surging toward them. The hulking red wore fresh graa-markings upon his crest, a warning to both friends and foes that he had embraced the blood rage triggered by the ritual plant. He carried a huge axe in both hands, sweeping it back and forth as though it was a bamboo switch. Draz was only too happy to get out of his way. He crouched low as the berserker rushed past, careful to present nothing that could be interpreted as a threat or challenge to the red’s drug-addled mind. Once the red was clear Draz rose up again. He hefted his throwing-spear so it looked like he was doing something, but he knew that it would only be a waste of his weapon to attempt a throw while the barrier of rushing winds was in effect. The hukkar did not hesitate, plunging through the barrier. For a moment Draz though that he too would be thrown up into the air, but the hulking red’s bulk carried him through with just a slight hitch in his stride. Draz couldn’t see the metal-clad creature, but another foe had stepped forward to face the raging berserker. This one also wore metal, though it was of a different sort, a flowing garment that clung to the outlines of his form. It was so amazing that Draz didn’t at first notice his weapon, a straight bar of metal that was almost as big as the hukkar’s axe. The red shrieked a challenge and rushed forward at his foe. The creature held its ground, itself an impressive feat with that berserk hulk charging toward it. It moved well, avoiding the first massive swing of the axe and then swinging its weapon in an arc that bit into the hukkar’s hide and unleashed a spray of blood that Draz could see clearly even from more than thirty paces away. But he doubted that the metal-clad warrior knew that by claiming first blood, it would drive the hukkar into a frenzy. Draz could only watch spellbound as the two foes engaged in a wild melee. There was other fighting going on around them, the strange warrior’s friends fighting with some of the hunters that had braved the wind-barrier, but those battles seemed to fade into the background as the two titans exchanged blows. At first it seemed as though there was no way that the smaller creature could withstand the hukkar’s rage, but somehow it did. At one point it avoided a swing that should have chopped it in half; Draz knew all too well how sharp those huge blades were. There was something, a flash of reddish light that he didn’t quite make out clearly. But the result was obvious; the berserker staggered to the side, off-balance, and the alien warrior was countering with his own weapon. Time seemed to slow down as Draz watched the glittering metal slab come swinging around. A stray sunbeam caused it to glow, and for an instant it seemed that it had become a stream of fire. The hukkar was struck a blow so mighty that Draz thought he could almost feel it in his own body. He stumbled back. Draz waited for a final effort, but watched in stunned shock as the berserker toppled to the ground. “Fight!” a voice shouted in his ear. “Fight, you cursed piece of dung, or I’ll kill you where you stand!” Draz started and looked up to see the hunt leader standing over him, his war-club raised threateningly. He flinched and hefted his spear. He hesitated for an instant, but the shimmer of the barrier was gone. He targeted the warrior standing over the fallen hukkar and drew back his arm for the cast. But before he could release the weapon, a bright beam of light slashed past him, blinding him for an instant. He heard a grunt of pain and saw the hunt leader, his chest scorched black. The veteran hunter was staring down at a glowing aura of sparkling light that surrounded his body. That was enough for Draz. He took advantage of the distraction to seek cover. He didn’t run far, moving maybe fifteen paces to an old stump substantial enough to offer some concealment. He slowly popped his head up to take a look. He was surprised to see that the enemy was retreating, falling back into the jungle. The reason became obvious a moment later when Draz heard a guttural chant coming from the village. A full cohort of half a dozen hukkar, accompanied by one of the underpriests, was emerging from the outer ring of huts. More hunters accompanied them, but they trailed behind the wedge of berserkers. The chant was coming from the underpriest, who was adding markings to the huge reds as they marched, throwing handfuls of powdered graa into their faces. The powder was not as potent as the concentrated juice that was extracted from the plant, but it worked faster. Draz could see the berserkers pick up their pace as the drug took effect. He looked back at the intruders, who were now almost invisible within the jungle. He could almost feel pity for them. He glanced back at the village, but there was no sign of Natakaskinderoth or his shaman, Rukakaverok. That was strange… why had the tribal chief not joined the hunt? Such musings did not distract him from watching the pursuit of the intruders. Curiosity drew him out of his cover, and he fell in with the other hunters who were following a safe distance behind the berserkers. The six hukkar were now rushing forward toward the jungle, deep growls of anticipation coming from their throats. But as they approached the wall of green the reds came to a sudden stop. Draz tensed, expecting some other disaster to be unleashed upon them. But the berserkers just stood there. The hunters likewise stopped, not sure what was happening, warily scanning the jungle for danger. One of the reds suddenly clutched at his head and unleashed a terrible scream. A second one turned and without warning drove his axe down into the shoulder of his neighbor. The injured hukkar staggered but managed to get his own weapon around, slashing his attacker’s leg open. Another of the reds suddenly turned and sprinted into the jungle, while the last two drew back, apparently bewildered by what was happening. The underpriest rushed forward, trying to restore some kind of order to the situation. He ran up to the screaming red, trying to calm him. But as the berserker turned around the priest must have seen something in his eyes, for he suddenly stopped and began to retreat. That didn’t help him as the red leapt forward and buried his axe deep in the priest’s skull. Draz abruptly realized that he was only a few paces away from the closest of the hukkar. Most of the other hunters had pulled back further, as confused as the berserkers by the look of them. Draz turned and ran back to the village. This time he didn’t stop until he was back in the dubious shelter of his slumped and leaky hut, where he crawled under his bed pad and covered his head with his arms. [/QUOTE]
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