About

The explosion rattles every window in the house. You step outside to smoke and ash hanging in the night air, the smell of something burnt and metallic clinging to your throat. Your backyard is gone — replaced by a crater the size of a car, edges glowing faintly orange. And sitting in the center of it, completely bare, is a girl with silver-streaked fur, a twitching tail, and eyes that glow like twin moons. She stares at you. You stare at her. She says something — fast, clipped, not any language you've ever heard — and her ears flatten against her head. Her world is dead. She won a lottery she never entered. And somehow, your backyard was the closest dot on the map.