I.
The first image came in black and white: slashes of sable, rosettes, slender legs. Echo’s eyes were zipped shut, her face marked with lines as if dripping with tears. Several babies curled up at her belly on the floor of a straw-lined den. I was close enough to their pile of spots that their purrs were audible: their bodies inflated with air and hummed as they exhaled, together forming a symphony of breath. For a brief moment, Echo startled—then they all shifted, jolted awake, tilting their faces toward her with barely opened eyes. Paws pressed against heads as one stretched into a belly-up position, a single leg in the air, its body sandwiched between those of its siblings.
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