One foot in front of the other. That's how it'd been. That's how it'd always been. There was never any shelter, there had never been home for him. He'd hoped, he'd prayed, he'd killed, but at the end of the day he was the one who had lost everything but his cat, and his wits. Not like he had much to start with anyways.
'Hard to believe I'm only Seventeen' Naerk thought.
Seventeen, but he already felt like he'd lived a lifetime. He'd loved, he'd lost. He'd given his all, and got nothing back. He'd felt the thin strands of happiness, only to have them torn away... And damn near got himself killed in the process. And like a coward, he ran. Ran to the only place that's ever been home to him.
'Tatooine. Galaxy's kriffhole, if ever there was one.' he thought with more than a little irony.
Sun that could scorch the skin right off you if you weren't careful, sandstorms that could rip you to pieces in ten seconds flat, and sand hot enough to cook your feet inside and out. Home sweet home, right? Well, it was for him. Sure it was dangerous, but Naerk didn't care. He'd lived here so long that he was used to it.
Everything the desert had thrown at him, he had conquered. But back in the cities with others, he was an awkward uncomfortable rodian, who could barely hold a conversation, but out here he was the Master. But even so, what struck him the hardest was the loneliness. So many people he'd known, or used to know. Nesrik, Seliik, Jeevik, Vida, Lumnor, Sasham etc. Some had come and gone from his life with no more effect than a grain of sand dropped in the desert. Others had changed everything. But the one common thread running between them all, was that they were all there. Out here, all he had was himself, and Kzu. Sandstorms and Solitude.
"Well kriff." Naerk said aloud "that's enough daydreaming."
With a groan, Naerk leveraged himself off of his back, and onto his hands, taking a second to rustle about the tiny tent until he grasped his rifle before awkwardly crawling out, the rifle cradled against his chest. Overhead, he felt the twin suns bore down on his bare head, their harsh rays already starting to suck the precious moisture out of his body. With one hand, Naerk slung his helmet onto his head, the long strips of cloth falling over his body to completely cover his neck and shoulders. From head to toe, he was completely covered in his raggedy cloth, not even an inch of his tanned green skin exposed to the harsh sunlight.
"Sandstorms, and Solitude..." Naerk said with a grin only he could see,"sounds like a kriffing book."
And with one step after another, his rifle in hand he kept on walking, as a few feet away a panther almost bigger than him jumps up from where it was sleeping next to his tent, and bounds after him. Behind them, a lazy wind blows, slowly sweeping away their footprints, leaving no trace of them, but the tiny, lonely tent.
