'Mrs. I used to go by the name Lucy Iovelli, which was my natural father’s surname. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. She raided their settlements in shifts, staggering her kills from tribe to tribe, undiscriminating of their petty politics. A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast.
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