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I’d spent most of my life loving the moon without ever resting a paw on its surface.
I’d learned a long time ago that hindsight was the enemy of the future. We couldn’t go back, what was done was done. What was lost was lost. Our feet were facing forward and the doors behind us were sealed shut.
“You’re a bitch sometimes,” I growled. “That doesn’t make me wrong,” she replied, shrugging one shoulder.

