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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. Rhea spun round and sank her teeth into Lucy’s arm. They were talking of “Alcide,” as they often did in those days. Bah! She does not know me very well, and you—not at all. It wouldn’t be you. "The traps!" responded a bystander. " "Fear nothing. “Please come by.
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