"Where shall I fly?" exclaimed the lady, bewildered with terror. He was human. Socks and shoes were harder to find, and she ended up wearing men’s athletic tube socks and a pair of dust caked flip-flops that had sat forlornly in Locker 49 since 1978. Most of the time, he was hunting and he returned at night. There was a moment’s breathless and disappointed silence.
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