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White Iris Breeze
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"Why, exactly," says Astrea, "is the one-armed man the one who is setting up the tents?"
"It's all right," calls Calidore.
"I do not know how," says Spidrift.
"I was under the impression you slept in the woods a great deal," says Astrea.
"Of course! But it was usually inside a bear."
"You're joking with me."
"I am most certainly not! There is nothing better than a fresh bear corpse for warmth and shelter."
"Shelter?"
"Bears don't go near dead bears. And I would hate to have to fight a bear."
"I can help, Calidore," I say.
"No need," he says, brightly. "They're both already up."
"I won't need one," I say. "I, uh, I want to take in the stars."
"Which is also what I want to do!" Spidrift immediately stands by my side.
"Whoa, now," says Calidore. "I've only set these up for you folk. I was going to sleep outside from the start, to give the lady some space."
"Well, I'm sure I'll be perfectly fine if I have to share one," says Astrea, impatiently.
"No, I insist," says Calidore.
"I'll go in the tent!" says Spidrift.
"Which tent?"
"I shall be fine outside," I say.
"And I!" Spidrift claps a hand on my shoulder.
"Allow me," says Calidore.
"Maybe inside," I mutter.
"Well someone needs to sleep in the other goddamn tent because we brought two goddamn tents," says Astrea, hotly.
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