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[Jul. 29th, 2007|11:43 pm] |
Gerald didn't want to leave. He was absolutely convinced that his new owner was coming back, and she needed his protection.
He'd rooted himself into the earth, gnomish arms crossed in defiance. (Well, they were always crossed. But that's not the point.) Whistler had to dig a two-foot trench around the defensive system and haul him back with a wheelbarrow.
Which probably wasn't a moment too soon. Someone (other than the police) had been tramping across his property just an hour earlier. Make that two someones. And one of them, no both he surmised, weren't entirely human.
The Agent dug up earth and replanted his friend. After laying the white stones again, he sat on the damp earth and they had a long talk. And a beer. (Gerald had three.)
While his trailer was a definite mess, and would take a month of Sundays to right again (not to mention skulking other neighborhoods for left-over furniture), he made sure of one thing: Whistler took what little funds he could afford and purchased a curio to sit in the corner of the living room, next to the window. Where Gerald could see.
Hannah's prized trolls would always have a home with him. |
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