PREVIEW

... stood there longer than necessary and didn’t feel guilty about it. Not even a little. The wasteland left a kind of grime that refused to leave, a combination of dust and sweat.

Wip had spent that time exploring the room. I could hear the small sounds of her paws moving across different surfaces, tapping objects as if she were classifying them into categories.

Bed, acceptable. Wall, not a rock. Table, promising but flat. She was conducting a thorough inspection, probably taking me ...

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