Tiger prowls through the jungle, searching for her next meal. She stalks from tree to tree, padding on silent feet. Her striped fur blends into the shadows falling from the canopy.
The rest of the forest cowers from her. From the smallest rat to the mightiest boar, they all know better than to risk Tiger’s swift claws. She hunts by stealth because no one else is a match for her.
She does not believe in astrology or even keep time in a way that is compatible with such thinking. But never the less, it is going to be her year.

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