The Magic Of Krynn Read Free

the wet sand, looking for a place to
     hide. After the terrible storm earlier that day, running along the muddy beach felt like
     running in a huge bowl of thick mush. But I ran just the same because Thick-Neck Nick, the
     village baker, was dead-set after me.
    I had lost Thick-Neck when I made a quick dash between two buildings and headed down
     toward the sea. I knew he might realize that I had come this way, but then I saw my
     salvation: along the shore was a long row of fishing boats.
    Clutching the stolen loaf of bread close to my body, I looked back over my shoulder.
     Thick-Neck hadn't yet reached the beach. I took my chance and dove into the very first
     boat.
    After covering myself with a heavy netting, I took in deep drafts of air, trying to catch
     my breath. I knew that if Thick-Neck Nick lumbered by, he was sure to hear me.
    I don't know how much time passed. When you're scared, breathless, lying in rainwater up
     to your lower lip, and have heavy fish netting on top of you shutting out the light,
     nothing moves slower than time. Absolutely nothing.
    But my heart started picking up its pace when I heard fast- approaching footsteps. I
     cringed down at the bottom of the boat. The rainwater covered my mouth. I had to breathe
     through my nose.
    The steps came closer. It was useless. I raised my mouth up out of the water and took a
    bite of the bread. If Thick-Neck was going to beat me, at least I wanted to have something
     in my stomach to show for it.
    Despite my dry mouth, I hurriedly began to chew.
    The steps came closer. Did he see the netting move? Did he hear my heavy breathing? Did he
     hear me chewing his bread? Though I hadn't swallowed my first mouthful, I took another
     bite, and then another, and another, until my cheeks were so puffed out they looked as if
     they had the wingspan of a dragon. Well, maybe not that big, but there was more bread in
     my mouth than there was left in my hand-and I hadn't swallowed a single mouthful. At
     least, not yet.
    The footsteps stopped right next to the boat. I closed my eyes, the bread stuck in my
     throat.
    I started to choke!
    The netting flew off me. Even as I tried to breathe, I covered my face, hoping to ward off
     Thick-Neck's blows.
    But there were no blows.
    I peeked out between my arms as big chunks of bread spewed out of my mouth.
    “What is this?” asked a bewildered old man staring down at me. “A young elf, all by
     himself?”
    I didn't answer. I kept coughing, spitting out wads of half- chewed bread into the bottom
     of the boat.
    The old man shook his head with exasperation and began slapping me on the back.
    When I was finally able to breathe again, I looked past the old man and saw that the beach
     was empty. Thick-Neck Nick was nowhere in sight.
    “You in trouble, elf?” asked the old man, seeing my furtive look.
    I nodded my head, figuring to play on the old man's sympathies. “Thick-Neck Nick doesn't
     like me,” I said.
    “Thick-Neck Nick doesn't like anybody,” agreed the old man with a sigh. Then he looked at
     me with a sly grin and added, “He especially hates one particular elf who has a habit of
     stealing his bread.”
    My face reddened. “What's your name, elf?” he demanded. “Duder,” I told him. “That's all?
     Just Duder?” “It's enough,” I replied, not wanting to say any more on that
    subject. “What's yours?” “Folks call me Six-Finger Fiske.”
    My gaze immediately shifted to his hands.
    “Don't expect to see an extra digit, elf,” the old man said with a harsh laugh. “Had a
     drunk doctor at my birthing, and the fool thought he saw six fingers on my hand. My mother
     didn't know enough to count them herself, and, well, nicknames have a way of catching on.
     Know what I mean?”
    I nodded. What else could I do?
    Without warning, the old, leathery fisherman picked me up by my shoulders and set me down
     on the muddy beach. “You're a funny-looking little fellow,” he