It’s called Starseek,” she said, “and this is the star.” “Is it a real star?” Picket asked, his head cocked sideways and his whiskers twitching. “No, little one,” Heather said, “a real star hangs in the sky at night, along with a million others. This is just a game.” “A game?” Picket said. “Maybe they’re all for games.
-S. D. Smith
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