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Victor: Her Ruthless Owner

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Theodora Taylor

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“In his world, people didn’t just up and move house with barely any warning. They had employers to give at least a month’s notice to, family members popping in to help them pack, and scores of friends to throw them tearful going-away parties. They didn’t pack up their possessions in a single morning, say “I’ll be off, then,” and just go.”

“How To Be An Explorer Of The World 1. Always Be LOOKING (notice the ground beneath your feet.) 2. Consider Everything Alive & Animate 3. EVERYTHING Is Interesting. Look Closer. 4. Alter Your Course Often. 5. Observe For Long Durations (and short ones). 6. Notice The Stories Going On Around You. 7. Notice PATTERNS. Make CONNECTIONS. 8. DOCUMENT Your Findings (field notes) In A VAriety Of Ways. 9. Incorporate Indeterminacy. 10. Observe Movement. 11. Create a Personal DIALOGUE With Your Environment. Talk to it. 12. Trace Things Back to Their ORIGINS. 13. Use ALL of the Senses In Your Investigations.”

“Dear Mr. Duke, As requested, here is an inventory of the animals in my care: *Bixby, a two-legged terrier. *Marigold, a nanny goat of unimpeachable character, who is definitely not breeding. *Angus, a three-year-old Highland steer. *Regan, Goneril, and Cordelia- laying hens. *Delilah, a parrot. *Hubert, an otter. *Freya, a hedgehog. *Thirteen kittens of varying colors and dispositions. Gabe leafed through the report in disbelief. It went on for pages. She'd given not only the names, breeds, and ages of every misbegotten creature, but she'd appended a chart of temperaments, sleeping schedules, preferred bedding, and a list of dietary requirements that would beggar a moderately successful tradesman. Along with the expected hay, alfalfa, corn, and seed, the animals required several pounds of mince weekly, daily pints of fresh cream, and an ungodly number of sardines. The steer and thee goat, she insisted, must go to the same loving home. Apparently they were tightly bonded, whatever that meant, and refused to eat of parted. The laying hens did not actually lay with any regularity. Their previous owners had grown frustrated with this paltry production, and thus they had come into Her Ladyship's care. And the lucky bastard who accepted a ten-year-old hedgehog? Well, he must not only provide a steady supply of mealworms, but remain ever mindful of certain "traumatic experiences in her youth.”

“I have written all of them' She shows me her work, while I look down in wonder. 'These pages, by the beginning letter of the surname.' She turns to a page with R, which is a letter I know, there at the top, she reads off, 'Amalee August Rain.' I sit down beside her and she gives it over to me, an I turn through all the pages. 'I'll be,' I whisper. 'A book of lost friends.”

“We had one horse, one mule, and a wagon. We had Horhay with his limp arm and his long past, and Dickie with his hopes for the necklace now dashed and turned to dread of its curse, and me with my ache for your mother who was destined to take her leave of me, and you with a life before you and a look of puzzlement on your face. We had your mother and her sweet baby to be. All together, it was a untidy mix of items.”