Ni-T'o stood at the outer edge of the slightly tilted meadow, a chunk of terrain that had slid down intact from the collapsed tip of the mesa. It was grassy, and lined with trees, so they had made it their camp. Ni-T'o knew its foliage well, the same grew in his homeland. Perhaps all of the unknown country above would prove so hospitable? While his friends reconnoitered, he remained below, guarding their precious horses. So far, this had been . . .
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- The Grantville Gazette Staff