I feel my toepads popcorning on the lower gravity surface of Whisker Prime 13. My featherweight bones are all but needing claws to just keep from floating off. I see at a distance the flop-eared hooved rabbit creature that I’ve grown to love to hunt. By the light of the 2nd moon I catch a starkly side lit but unmisteable shape of Mror and her consort and arch-enemy Khizz. They are the dominent goddesses of this dimension, Mror-rest-for-all. Her territory spans acres past where I can see. The two are on prowl, caterwauling the night into greater challenge of play and prey. I shadow their figures as do the dozens with me, our heat reaching for the heat of tin-roof binary-star. We track the pathways from tree crests, can travel as squirrels do on earth. We are grace, the shadows of day in our limbs.

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