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Andrea followed Maculay inside. It was a small cabin with a few musty
books, rack of potions, bed of hay, table, wooden stumps for chairs and a
fireplace. She carefully laid her bag of belongings beyond the reach of
the sparks. Macualay produced two candles from who knows where and laid
them upon the table. "I keep these for special occasions," he explained.
Then he attempted to light them using his magic prowess, a spell any adept
would know by heart. "Hibebeth, Hibebeth," he chanted and snapped his
fingers. Nothing happened, so he lit them manually with a stick from the fire. Andrea gazed at Maculay. It was like he was so refreshing. He treated her for real, not as a master, servant, or someone to be wooed. She smiled at him. He smiled back, showing his broken teeth. She laughed. After a remarkable dinner, Maculay was quick to retire to the straw. Andrea looked at him laying there. She too was tired, but the thought of love kept her awake. He was an amazing hero of her country, laying peacefully in a bed of straw. He showed no sign of slowing down after all these many years. She also knew that any woman impregnated by him would likely bear a wizard of incredible strength. She longed to be that woman. She gazed at Maculay longingly. "Someday," she thought, "we will wed."
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