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more undertakings with good results, and plain goes rigid
and falls. Gulls rise from the thump and fly off croaking.
Desert takes advantage of this. The crumpled plain is
placed on shovels and begins to plead:
“Oh, sweet desert, oh, sweet desert, have mercy on me, a
poor man, I’m innocent. The sea was stolen by an evil sun
doppelganger, who impersonates princess Portfelio, and
carried her off to the underworld, where she’s locked into a
dark basement, and her frothy, wavy curls are combed by
little groundwater dwarves. I’m innocent, I swear it!”
“What should we do with him?” desert asks Jacob.
“Let’s have mercy!”
“All right, we’ll have mercy on the muddy plain this time.
But next time don’t do it again! Go now to all directions of
the sky!” And plain ran without looking back. In its place a
pine forest grew.
Aigars appeared at the door of the bathroom: “Jake, we’re
missing one player, come!”
And Jacob went disgruntled, oh, how deeply he hated this
petty joy of troublemakers, it was so shallow, warriors
didn’t come of such. Warriors were created only through
tempering by fire and water, they had to conquer and unify,