“It's her!” She shouts. I back away, questions buzzing around in my head, making it hard to think. I pound my way to the Spyder. I don't know what this is, but I'm not taking any risks.
And when she had seen them walk away together upon their path of flowers, followed by the happy shouts of the crowd, in which her one sad cry was lost!
VOA: special.2009.04.18
But when we question her decisions, sheshouts at us and calls us traitors.