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They should not have been able to count on each other the way they did.
His purpose was to plant seeds for the future; her purpose was to preserve the past.
Her battle style was to slash and thrust up close; his battle style was to strike at a target from a distance.
His fur was the monochrome of Spring’s cloudy skies in which she took flight above the Earth. Her feathers were the rainbow spread of all the Spring flowers that he tended in his Warren below the Earth.
Their hearts were those of Guardians, reason enough to trust.