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A slice of orange hung low in the sky, gently grazing the harbor lights. Mira paused on the hill and looked back toward the dark water. She could picture Ian standing on the bow of his boat. He was pleading with the moon. He was asking permission to hook his fingers around the crescent. The moon would abide and slowly pull him down into the sea. Down to a land half a world away, one just waking and one that would welcome him without question.