The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. Then Melusine jumped back into the fencer’s pose, on guard, the point of the wicked blade directed towards her enemy. It was of no use, she let him do it as she could not be strangled. She recognized the face but could not quite place it. 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.
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