From the scar on her right side, she pulled out a pouch that looked like a chunk of muscle. On the inside was a flat bag that could hold four bills. I... had four one-hundred-dollar bills now. It also had the small pocket knife her father had given her.“Sorry to have removed a small bit of fat, Ellen, but I doubt you will ever miss it,” the woman told her. “This is something that doesn’t exist as far as the world is concerned. We made the pocket in your legs from a mixture of your muscle and fat. Whileshe saw no problem at all with comparing a woman with a precious slab ofstratified shale, her travels with her friends had taught here that notevery race appreciated that sort of thing. And regardless, she wastrying to present a veneer of being a gentle, forest-loving dryad.Quickly, she found a song which fit, an old elven one she'd picked upfrom a friend of Lianan's a few years ago. With a few mentalalterations, she finished it in her head, then carefully found the righttune, took Erin's. More

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