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I'm sure he's fine. I'm sure of it.
I've seen my bow-master pin a boar between the eyes at forty yards, hunting it as swiftly as possible, giving it little time to feel pain.
Yet, time presses onwards and it remains a luxury I cannot afford. I must learn. I must find a means to survive the treacherous lands to the East of Bree. I must find an able teacher whose knowledge may be offered or bought.
Small as I may be (as folk have kindly commented), I have a mean kick and a strong will to fight, should the need arise.
I am grateful for miss Taisha's assistance. Should chances be favorable, her friend will teach me some skill with a blade and I might find my feet homeward sooner, rather than later.
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