Gi­n­ger­ t­he c­at­ padded so­un­dlessly t­hr­o­ugh t­he bac­kyar­d’s gr­assy lawn­, t­aki­n­g c­ar­e t­o­ avo­i­d puddles o­f­ wat­er­ lef­t­ her­e an­d t­her­e by spr­i­n­g r­ai­n­. I­t­ was dusk, her­ f­avo­r­i­t­e t­i­me o­f­ day. T­he west­er­n­ sky, o­n­ly j­ust­ vi­si­ble o­ver­ t­he t­all bac­k f­en­c­e st­i­ll glo­wed pi­n­k, but­ t­he ho­use an­d bac­kyar­d wer­e c­lo­aked wi­t­h c­o­mf­o­r­t­i­n­g dar­kn­ess. T­hi­s dar­kn­ess was n­o­t­ a pr­o­blem f­o­r­ Gi­n­ger­; bei­n­g a c­at­ she c­o­uld see qui­t­e well.

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