A/N: Hey guys! Yay, another story! The beginning is kind of spur-of-the-moment attatched to some ideas that I've been having lately, so who knows where this one is going. :) It's much darker than any of the other fanfics up on my account (or at least the beginning part). Anyways, I hope you guys like it, and as usual, I love reviews. I will try and get back to every single one of them (though I still have to get back to the ones on DC . ) when I can!

-Eyes

Off Worlder

Battlefield

It was dark; groggy, moans of pain could be heard in every direction, the smell of flesh and soil intermixed, as enemy ships headed off above the clouds, the red of their tail lights glowing. Temeran-Amanthian-Gorash stood on the hill watching them leave, his shredder long since burned out. He pointed it to the sky as if hoping; taking aim, but there was nothing left. He looked back down at it; how useless, how weak and pathetic it looked.

((Sir… Sir,)) fluttered a voice. He looked up, another living voice. Temeran saw him down the gray, burned slope, the young warrior on his side, chest to the ground as he reached up for him. There was no help, no medics. Dracon marked down the youth's flank, fluid oozing down the wounds, gleaming with infection.

((Sir, help me…))

Temeran didn't give him a second glance, traveling passed the fallen warrior. His tail would have had to been amputated at the very least, and he would have wanted to die anyway. The mid-section of the tail was just a bunch embers glowing in the darkening sky. The old warrior's hooves kicked up dried dust, smoking down the hill as he went, as he ignored the pleas for help.

There's nothing I can do…

The sun was setting through the thick laden atmosphere, tinting everything blue-and-gray. It was getting cold—and quickly, the bodies preserved over a layer of ice and frost, which quickly formed. It was all happening quickly as the sun fell. He would be that way soon, but he would keep moving for the hell of it. If he had lay down and waited for death, he'd begin thinking. Moving would make him think about the aching of the strings of his freezing muscles; his breathing.

The planet was barren save for the rolling hills like waves, and the streaks of ice that ran throughout the planet like veins of some living, frozen creature. It was an outpost, standing in the middle, between Yeerk and Andalite lines. The Yeerks' gateway to the planet that the overstretched Andalite military had been trying to selfishly guard. The lines drew back and his warriors stayed behind to take down whatever was left. Neither side found anything particularly special about this moon, let alone the planet that it swung around.

The molten blue planet gorged on the right side of the sky, and there were three other moons hidden around the hemisphere. He didn't bother looking back to count, knowing that he would see the congealed blood crystallize, eyes glazing over with ice, and fur prickling of his fallen warriors. Stars spanned the skies. At least the clouds had bothered to clear; he never thought he would see them again. The death ritual had been done just that morning; he knew it was lost. This one piece of him knowing that he would never see his wife and children again.

The landscape began to flatten, save for the webbing of ice that he was coming upon. His hearts began to work in the thinning air, as the moon changed its axis around the planet. It was slow, but his body showed every sign of it changing. His fur was frozen, jagged. IT was beautiful, he thought.

The planet glided through the gas field, glowing green and violet. It shimmered and moved, blinding his green eyes momentarily, unused to the sudden light. The pain in his hearts seared by this point, the oxygen draining faster and faster. But more than likely he would die of radiation and for some reason the idea at that point made him giddy. He wanted those lights.

This is what dying should be like, he thought.

He stumbled as he tried to move closer to it, alone and calling for death in illuminating lights, gas particles by the minute light. His brain began to slow from oxygen starvation; he was euphoric, giddy as he tried to reach. He fell. The ground was cold, and Temeran was numbed; it didn't matter. The old warrior fell, moaning in futility, and called for his wife...

The ground began to shake, a tremor at first; it woke him up. He could hear the fractures beginning in the ground; and—he could breathe! He tried to stand, suddenly alert, but the ground wouldn't let him, shaking too violently at that point, startling the ice skin of the moon. All around him! Frustrated, he whipped his tail—he wanted to live! The fractures surrounded him, refusing to let him up.

It began to crack, weakening the ground. Desperately Temeran began to crawl, digging his tail into the ice with each drag, trying to find stable ground. It was impossible!

The ground exploded!

Tentacles seared the air, as his body was thrown skyward from the explosion. They glowed, ethereal almost, but that was not possible—he could feel the wind around him, as they whipped the air, searching.

((Yaaaaaahhhhh!)) he bellowed.

A number of them wrapped around his middle, his momentum increased as he fell—they were taking him! He whipped his tail violently, trying to cut himself away. It was hard, the tentacles thick with muscle. He worked harder and harder—but it was no use! Each time he cut one away, more wrapped around him, yanking him faster and faster towards the ground. It wrenched him to the ground, the refrozen ice chattered as he was dragged through.

He was falling!

He was falling through the water, the ice frigidness of it shocking him. Temeran was too shocked to scream from it, like tiny needles pressing all around him. His eye stalks closed, but it didn't matter. There was darkness all around him! The creature that pulled him further and further under was boiling hot compared to the liquid that threatened to freeze him. The air! There was no air! Fear pumped it out of his organs, but he was going to die anyway from some unknown predator.

As he was pulled, the water turned blue, light tropical blue. And suddenly it was warm. He could watch it move, the water tingling all around him. It was calmer—where was the light coming from?

The grip of the animal had tightened around him, unwilling to let his prey go. Had he not felt trapped, the water would have proved comforting. His lungs burned, and he decided that he didn't want to die by being eaten.

He decided to breathe in.