Lucy clasped her hands over her ears as it screamed. Here was the place behind the shed where she had used to hide from Roddy’s persecutions, and here the border of herbaceous perennials under whose stems was fairyland. “I am afraid that you are making a mistake,” she said. Lucy howled as tooth met bone, her arm clamped in the trap of Rhea’s huge canines. Their colorful displays seemed to repel the dreariness of the sky as each group savored its long awaited moment, its weekend arrival in front of the opposite sex. Three times she escaped.
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