Today's OneWord: Fled

"Richter?" repeated the bartender, spitting a wad of wet, red tobacco out of the corner of her mouth. "Last I checked, she fled to the northern edge of Wolfhill about three months ago. Hadn't even served her her signature brew for six months beforehand. Why, you huntin' her?"

I shook my head. The bartender smiled devilishly, flicking a loose brown curl back over her shoulder.

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