It seems like I have bad luck with adders. My mom got bitten by one, Vigjis got killed by a nest full of 'em, and Neredæus was an adder and was killed by another adder. Well, it wasn't long after the last traumatizing event that I stumbled on yet another. It just so happened that when I was cooking dinner, a pair of obnoxious mole baies came into my makeshift camp. The bigger one, Rutgit, said, "It boi a hungry fossker, ho hurr, it got strabee pudden, too!" The other one, Mikle, said, "I boi gurt hungry for strabee pudden!" "Well moles, I don't think I'll give you any pudding!" "No! Us boi gurt hungry! Please give us some pudden or we gonna kill you!" said Rutgit, waving a stick around. Suddenly, I had an idea. I pulled out four rocks from my cloak and hold them in my hands. "How many rocks are in my hand?" "Eleventeen, eighty- thirteen, one-tweleve, forty- twentyteen. Forty-twentyteen rocks!" said Mikle "No, but I'll give your friend here one chance!" "Hurrhurr! Nineteenty, twelvety-seventeen, eight, four. There are four rocks!" "Nope, wrong!" "What's the answer?" "Four," "How'd us'n get it wrong?" "You got the right answer but you counted wrong," "How do you count to four?" "One, two, three, four." "Oi go now!" "Wait!" "What?" I shot a dart out of my flute and hit a nest full of wasps. It fell onto the moles. "Yoikes! Wospers!!" The moles ran away, followed by a cloud of wasps.