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Post by The Flint on Nov 20, 2008 17:36:49 GMT -5
"Smaller than a bear. Maybe between ten and twelve stone weight, as I figure 'em." He grinned wider, showing a few gapes between yellow teeth."
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Post by Lord Rhaegar Targaryen on Nov 20, 2008 17:39:01 GMT -5
"What do the prints look like?"
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Post by The Flint on Nov 20, 2008 17:42:42 GMT -5
The man just grinned, but did not respond. He removed his spear from the fire, and examined it. He tested it with his fingertip. "mmmhmmm." He said, to no one in particular.
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Post by Lord Rhaegar Targaryen on Nov 20, 2008 17:44:02 GMT -5
'This man seems to be either crazy, or hostile', Lightfoot thought. He had not seen any prints around.
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Post by The Flint on Nov 20, 2008 17:46:25 GMT -5
"Gonna rain on 'till morrow morn, like as not, stranger. You got yourself a camp site here about?" The man asked as he put his knife away, and stood up.
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Post by Lord Rhaegar Targaryen on Nov 20, 2008 17:47:23 GMT -5
"Yes, just to the south. It's been there for years, now. A little more stalwart than a camp site, I think."
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Post by The Flint on Nov 20, 2008 17:52:47 GMT -5
"You is a queer sorta fella Lightfoot." The man said, " A queer sorta fella be walking around on account of someone he don't know ordered him to. Living in some camp site in some place he don't like. Seems mighty queer to me. Ain't you gotta wife or kids or nothing? A man have himself a wife and kids, he ain't got time for no fiddle fanging around on no foolish errands. Iff'n you asked me."
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Post by Lord Rhaegar Targaryen on Nov 20, 2008 17:54:03 GMT -5
"No wife, no kids. Yourself?"
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Post by The Flint on Nov 20, 2008 17:56:29 GMT -5
Man nodded, "Aye, grandchildren too, although I don't look old enough to be having no grandchildren."
He did too look old enough to have grand children, with his thin grey hair and bushy beard twisted into tails, but that was neither here nor there.
"You oughta go back and get yourself a bride. You ain't too old for it."
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Post by Lord Rhaegar Targaryen on Nov 20, 2008 17:58:24 GMT -5
"No, I think not. Though my honor and duty require me to stay here."
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Post by The Flint on Nov 20, 2008 18:01:32 GMT -5
"You ain't taken with them southron ways, bedding down with men or nothing has you? Mighty unnatural that, mighty unnatural. Ain't normal for no man to not be having no wife, and issue of his loins and so forth." He shook his head.
"Mighty unnatural. You sure you ain't one of them black brothers? Maybe that's why you is old and you ain't go no kids. You desserting?"
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Post by Lord Rhaegar Targaryen on Nov 20, 2008 18:26:21 GMT -5
"I have bedded women, though none have stuck. My lifestyle does not fit theirs, it seems."
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Post by The Flint on Nov 20, 2008 18:29:45 GMT -5
"Unnatural." the old man said, with finality. He pulled a cowl of blue and white worsted wool over his head, and gestured, "Your welcome to my fire, iff'n you want it." He turned on his heel, and started up the trail.
"Should go home Lightfoot. Stalking around here where you ain't happy... It's most unnatural." He yelled, cupping his mouth with one hand. And than he was gone.
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Post by westerosi on Nov 21, 2008 18:45:29 GMT -5
/ / / / /
Hamish opened his eyes, lying still on the stretcher. He had been in or out consciousness for almost a week now, but he was beginning to feel better. He touched the long wound that ran across his forehead and into his scalp. The wife had sewed it together, and it seemed to heal up fine, though he'd always have a big scar where the bear had ripped up his face. He seemed to have been lucky enough not to suffer any injuries to his eye-sight.
The family had told him they belonged to the Burley Clan, and was heading home to their lands. Hamish was in no condition to argue, so he had followed with them.
"How much further?" he asked with a tired voice.
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Post by The Flint on Nov 22, 2008 15:20:12 GMT -5
"Not far, no." the man replied. The rusty short sword was tucked into his belt, and he leaned on a thick ashwood walking stick as they hiked upwards up the mountain. The woman held the little girl's hand as they walked.
True to his word, the small group soon reached a round house made with wooden walls, and a sod roof. Two boys, perhaps as young as ten and eight, were standing in front of a small sheep pen.
"Our boys," The man said as though he thought Hamish might be curious.
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