It mattered not whether she flunked the year as she would soon be gone. Beyond was a field sloping steeply upwards, and at the top a small pine plantation. My foster mom works there as a second job. But, as soon as he perceived who it was, he roused himself, and glared fiercely at the intruder from under his bent brows. Only she sent me a message, and together we found a cottage for her to stay at. .
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