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The girl smiles, curiously looking at me. “Hi, are you Anora?”
“I am,” I answer. There’s something about her that’s familiar. It’s not her face, but the way she’s dressed. It’s the way Aunt Estelle dressed, and the way the black-haired lady from my memories dress. Like professors at the academy.
“I’m Ruby.” She pulls something from the pocket of her robe. My heart skips a beat when I see my crumpled-up letter I threw in the fireplace. “I got your letter.”
