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December 25, 2002
Snow was absent this Christmas. Hell, it was L.A., and it never snows in L.A. For Claire, no snow made hunting easy. She’d been traveling for three hundred days exactly, and finally made it to Los Angeles. They said it was the perfect place for prowlers like her. Within a few short days, she’d learned that they, the ones from the Bronx alleyways, were right. She’d made it. And the timing couldn’t be better; it was Christmastime, and the dumpsters were full of turkey bits and ham. There was nothing juicier than fresh leftovers for an alley cat like her.