Back home early, one afternoon, from her walk in the woods, and for no reason that she could really explain, the girl poured herself a glass of milk, chose a quiet corner and a book buzzing with nature. The magpie page fell open, caught in the sunlight. This time, when they reached her, the screams were different, more desperate. The girl ran out into the garden, saw her mother with her hands raised to her face, blood soaking her skin. The magpie rested on its favourite fence-post, juggling with an eye and an optic nerve, swallowed the parcel whole.
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