Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. " "Iss, missis," grinned the black. Oh, what have you been about now?’ ‘There is no need to be concerned. ” “You are not a coward,” she repeated, “or you would not be my friend.
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