“What is that? Is it a crow?” I asked. “Too big,” said Ms. Karp. “It’s a raven.” “Is it dead?” asked Lissa. I peered at it. “Yeah. Definitely dead. Don’t touch it.” “Probably attacked by another bird,” observed Ms. Karp. “They fight over territory and resources sometimes.” Lissa knelt down, compassion on her face. I wasn’t surprised, since she’d always had a thing for animals. She’d lectured me for days after I’d instigated the infamous hamster-and-hermit-crab fight. I’d viewed the fight as a testing of worthy opponents. She’d seen it as animal cruelty. Transfixed, she reached toward the
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