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Fred walked into the snowy scene in the wardrobe, upon which the wardrobe
itself
faded away. He - or perhaps one should say she, for Fred's body was wholly
female -
shivered. Her top half was reasonably warm, for that was still encased in
armour,
which appeared to have somehow been adjusted to fit her new form. But her
bottom half,
clad in short leather skirt, fishnets and high heels, was cold. Still, at
least she still had her sword and she appeared to have escaped from that
strange
magical voice.
A few snowflakes fluttered down from the slate-grey sky, but at least there was almost no wind. Fred was frightened and confused by recent events, but her instinct for survival asserted itself. She obviously couldn't stay here, with no food and the risk of hypothermia, but which way should she go? Then she realised that only a few yards away there was a pack lying on the ground. Opening it, she found a pair of fleece-lined boots, a warm skirt of mid- calf length and some food. That was better, she thought, as she quickly changed into the new items. Still far from ideal, but definitely much better. Her need of food and shelter was no longer quite so urgent, though she doubted whether she could survive the night in the open in these conditions.
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10/8/2000 10:35:47 AM
Extending Enabled
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