Dahlia padded to her nest in the hunters den. Things were coming more into focus and the world was starting to look less like a stage for vertigo. She was finally ready to except fate, and live the life she owed to her kit, Leopard. He’d done more in his young lifetime already than any other cat had for her; it was time to let go of the hurt and pain, the flashbacks that never seemed to relinquish their grip, like claws ripping through her pelt. And as these things played in her mind, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders that had, for so long, been her worst enemy.

that’s younger than two of my cats and neither have mates lol