Ivy Turned. 'he Bit You On The

Al Was Standing A Bare Three Feet Away, His Mood Almost Jovial As He Took The Paper And It Vanished In A Wash Of Black Sparkles. “thank You, Rachel,” He Said, Carefully Reaching For My Hand As Trent Stiffened. “welcome Back, My Itchy Witch.

Your Hair Is A Tangled Mess,"he Said, Thinking He Liked It That Way, Like A Lion's Mane.

Her Elf Is Going To Do Just That,” He Said, The Red Glow Of The Ever-after Sun Turning His Hair Auburn, Almost As Red As Mine. “i Did Not Work This Hard At Getting Her To Accept Who She Is To Let You Take Your Spoiled Brat Of A Little-boy Temper Tantrum Out On Her. She Stays On My Side Of The Lines.

You Need A New Hobby, Rachel. Something Other Than Nasty Little Men With Visions Of World Domination.

Maybe I Could Be Friends With A Ghost. I Wouldn’t Be Able To Kill Him.