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Andrea discovered a shocking situation in the valley. A mass of child-
sized boulders had fallen onto the ox-cart path, catching a tall, scruffy
peasent. He laid face first in the road, everything from his waist on down covered in boulders. He wore a dark black deerskin jacket and a white cloth shirt underneath. His bright silver crucifix lay puddled around his mouth as if he breathed it out in the accident. This spot in the valley was under the tallest cliff on the right hand side. The leftwards side was fifty feet away, past scrub- grass, more boulders and a squarish-pond that smelled strongly of duck feces and rotten apples. Andrea felt the man's pulse. Strong and steady. She peered at the mess of boulders, about two feet high. The man's legs weren't crushed, she saw, it was just that he was trapped. Well, hopefully this was just the situation. Andrea didn't really have much experience in this sort of thing. The boulders weren't exactly on his legs, just around them in trap-ful ways. And something knocked him out anyway. Andrea knew enough to know a blow on the head could be life- threatening.
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2/3/2003 4:28:43 AM
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