"..."

Saturday risks putting a hand on Catra's bent back.

"You ain't alone right now, are you? If I see something good, then other people will, too. Might take a long while, but it'll happen. People are - more flexible than you think."

She thinks of her rage at her brother, and how much she'd wanted to hold to it even as it slipped through her fingers; he'd tried so hard to make it right that all her righteousness had turned to ash in her mouth. And she thought about Bit lying there, bleeding out, Scylla's throat cut, and both of them forgiving, never even really blaming her -

Saturday inhales a sharp breath.

"...it ain't all or nothin', Cats."