[I] ==>

Trace catches up to where you were. But you're gone already. All he sees is the long, gross rubbery arm of your PAST TRAIL stretching through the room.

He finds his comrade tied up with the stretchy rubber arms of a small man. But there is nothing gross or unpalatable about that in the least.

Doze unslows himself and begins mumbling something feverishly.

About his hat.

> [I] ==>
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