You... where did you come from? You shouldn't be here! <Bolain struggles through the pain--bruised, battered, and a disease-ridden bite wound to his leg.> Take this to Dalton. Head north up the road and east where the plains open wider than this gash in my damn leg. I'd tell you to tell him he was right, but I won't give him that satisfaction... at least not until after I'm dead. I hate these damn hills!
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