Evelyn has collected a number of gifts of her own to give out, all of which have been delivered and left at doorsteps with handwritten tags. Currently, though, she is contentedly curled up on the bench in one of the bay windows of the library, listening to music, watching it snow and flipping through the photo
album she found on the beach. There
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YOUR 4RTS 4R3 D3L1C1OUS
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I made sure to pick pages with lots of wingbeasts.
[She rather likes that word, now.]
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