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Saint chastised, raising a paw for emphasis. The branch overhead rattled at her command, shaking its captured bounty of rats, squirrels and the odd frog. This wasn't strictly necessary, as cuts of cold meat were readily available in the freezer, but Saint still did her best to keep the garden free of pests, and they had to go somewhere. The potted hydra turned away, a pair of green heads burying themselves deep in the plant pot, refusing to meet her eyes.

"You don't have to eat them ...

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