A Missing Clue

The adventurers had evaded the enemy, foiled the plots against them, avoided the traps set for them and were now moments, time could be measured in heartbeats, from their reward.

Anne and Marv looked at each other, smiling, reflecting on having just escaped a wyrm the size of a bus.  Samuel tossed aside his sword, bent from blocking a whirring saw blade earlier.  He was first to notice the problem.

“Does anyone know which tile holds the treasure?” he asked.

“You were to track clues,” Marv said.

“Ah dang.” Anne was already turning around.

“I was the tank,” Samuel mumbled.


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