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So, how goes the war?

Tiny rabbits crouching in the wide shadow of a redwood. Hearts pounding, ears twitching. Knowing the shadows aren’t dark enough to hide them from the owl’s eyes.

The full moon wanders close.

I hate that I have to die and spend so much time trying to find you again.

The full moon wandering away.

Always.

The highway glittering with prison buses.

And Taylor Swift tour trucks.