• “My litter sister looks up at me.
    Mom was right. Her eyes are the same as they've always been. Brown eyes fringed with long lashes and steeped with the memory of sweetness and light, laughter and joy - trapped in this mangled corpse-like face.
    "It's all right, baby girl," I whisper into her hair as I hug her. "I'm here. I came for you."
    Her face crumples and her eyes shine. "You came for me."
    I stroke her hair. It's as silky as ever.”

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