Lamorak stumbles out of the woods, barefoot and only half clothed in charred rags; apparently coming back to life will not fully restore burned clothing, and his hair is also burned in certain foul-smelling places. He's very cold, and very disoriented, and has a nasty scar on his throat. Maybe he's still dead. That wouldn't entirely surprise him,
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Goewin has just come off Lamorak's hunting shift. She has got four cock pheasant slung over her shoulder, and has not lost any of the arrows that she arrived with last week, though one will need repointing. She aims a whole one carefully at this spectre, just to be on the safe side.
"Sir, can I help?"
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Sleep well!
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