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Silas knew very well about the rumors going around the town. There was some mysterious man staying at the inn; one of those big shots in a pressed suit and tie with a funny looking smirk and a funny looking stare. Like he was hiding something. Something big and important. And Silas wanted to know about it.
But of course, he wasn't about to just walk up to the guy. That'd be inviting trouble, and plus, he had a job to do. Silas tugged at his collar, the summer heat making the fabric stick to the back of his neck uncomfortably with sweat. He shifted the papers in his hand, then cleared his throat and waved one paper in the air. "Extra, extra! Read all about it! Another sheep stolen from the mayor's estate! Culprit still uncaught!" Silas bellowed into the street, then licked his dry lips and adjusted his hat on his head. "Extra, extra!"
Behind him, General Stumps meowed in irritation, and Silas glanced back into the shady alleyway where the fat cat lounged on a vegetable crate. Silas flashed him a grin, looking apologetic. "I'd join ya, buddy, but I gotta sell these papers. Sorry about the noise." General Stumps blinked lazily, then sniffed and curled up tighter, facing away from Silas. Silas smiled ruefully, then turned back to the cracked asphalt road, taking in another breath and continuing his tired old speech.
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