Francis Flamingo didn’t look like the deranged tropical bird in a snowstorm she had a few moments ago now that I was hovering above her eye level and she had to look up to see my face. If anything, she looked more like a frightened child. I could certainly see the resemblance between her and Fionna, her own daughter, who had been terrified so many times in my presence, I wasn’t sure what to think of her parents. For all I knew, her off-balance existence might be because her parents were just awful to her.I didn’t have time to dig into the psychosis of the situation at the moment, though. I needed to set something straight. “Listen here, Mrs. Flamingo,” I said, refraining from wagging my finger in her face, but just barely. “You don’t get to threaten me or my pack. I’ve done more for you and your family than anyone else has, maybe ever, unless y
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