Chapter 2:
I later woke to the sound of the cargo door unlocking, and then the faint whirring of servos. A Stormtrooper ordered us out and to line up before them. I hoped that they intended to finish us, and then I wouldn't have to feel the pain. It was dark and overcast, and the ground was moist. The ankle-high grass combed through my fur, soaking my skin underneath. The sensation made the raw skin underneath the binders ache. We all marched out of the ship, following the Stormtrooper, and lined up as ordered in silent obedience. We had landed in a very large clearing that must have been used many times before, as the ground beneath the freighter was scarred black. Felled trees were strewn about the perimeter. Live trees skirted the clearing and mingled with thick brush. Hoots and howls from unknown creatures echoed from the shadows at the tree line; further beyond, deeper into the forest, hills and mountains rose, blocking out the faint sun on the horizon.
Groups of Stormtroopers dotted the clearing in pairs, all of them armed. A large white shuttle with three triangular wings like sails sat next to the freighter that had brought us, and more Stormtroopers marched forth from its lowered, tongue-like platform. I had expected to see nothing more than the inside of a cold, Imperial prison cell with no escape, but the faint hope I felt when I saw the open wilderness died when I saw my kin, some from my very own village. They were alive, but had collars about their necks as well, holding hydro-spanners and welders in their hands. Some were lifting huge sheets of steel, and others were carrying steel girders in groups. Some carried equipment from another freighter at the opposite side of the clearing, and across the field to the main construction site.
Perhaps dying with the rest of my family would have been a better fate, I thought to myself.
A stormtrooper approached us and individually scanned our collars. An Imperial officer, another Colonel, the one I figured to be in charge, walked out from a gray tent near the Stormtrooper barracks, and to the front of us. Despite being among the wilds, his uniform was impeccably clean and wrinkle-free. He was clean-shaven, and had kempt hair, hardly the kind of Imperial who lacked any of the normal comforts, even in the middle of a jungle planet. With his hands behind his back, glowering at us with contempt, he coldly spoke.
"You are here to work. Make no mistake about your purpose. Do your work well, follow orders, and you will live. It's as simple as that. Anything less and you will be disposed of. You will be assigned labor tasks and given the necessary tools. Any damaged property is a punishable offense. A missed deadline is a punishable offense. Failure to obey orders is a punishable offense." He spoke as if he had given the same speech many times before. "Nourishment will be called out once per day. Sleep will also be announced. Failure to follow schedule is a punishable offense. Assign the prisoners." He looked from us to the Stormtroopers behind us, stabbing his finger at his subordinates in command.
We were marched in file towards a desk outside of the officer's housing, assigned tools, and work tasks, and then directed to our workstations—pushed, and shoved, and yelled at the entire way. Luckily, Syymbacca and I were grouped together along with an elder Wookiee, (I never did learn his name) who quickly began to instruct us in our duties without so much as an acknowledgement as to what we were. I was taken aback that the elder was neither glad nor curious to see us. He seemed empty, or broken somehow. He asked no questions, he gave no sympathy. I looked around the camp to try to take all of it in, and noticed the same stale expressions on all of the Wookiee's faces.
Our first day passed on that dark, cold, strange planet. Dathomir it was called, as the Elder working with us later mentioned. A planet neither Syymbacca nor I were familiar with. That first day tore us down with exhaustion. We were shown how to weld steel plates to the frame husk of a guard tower after moving crates of them. Syymbacca and I did our best to learn quickly and not to get ourselves or anyone else in trouble, but the tools were Imperial, made for human hands, not Wookiee. Working with the metal amplified the cold, unforgiving atmosphere of our surroundings, it made the joints hurt. Moisture permeated the air, the ground was muddy, and the steel had a thin coating of water that looked like tears.
As I knelt beside my brother helping him to weld steel plates into place I suddenly became incredibly confused. It couldn't have been more than a day ago. I was at my home though under siege, but at home nonetheless with my family. Within hours it seemed I found myself working for the Empire against our own people. Not more than a day before and what I thought to be a hellish situation went deeper into misery. Mother and grandfather were dead, and everyone but the remaining five of us from the village was dead. Perhaps another day and the oppressors would finish the rest of us off.
"What the hell am I doing?" I angrily asked myself in muted tones. "We should be fighting back, how did we fall into our roles so quickly and willingly?" My mind went deeper into the whirlpool of confusion and anger when Syymbacca nudged me, bringing me to my senses.
"I know what you're thinking," he said. He always seemed to know what I was thinking, always in lockstep with me. "There's not much we can do yet. We have to figure this place out first. Until then, we have to be the good slaves. It's going to take time, Makaashyya. We'll get through this." With a confident squeeze of my hand he encouraged me to continue the tasks we were assigned to.
I lost count of the hours. We ate once as we were told we would, and amazingly enough it became darker as the day turned to evening. As the darkness unfolded, bringing a chill evening breeze, with it came the unknown ambient noises of the surrounding jungle. The things making the noises sounded anxious and ravenous; perhaps knowing there was something edible in the clearing just beyond the tree line—the smell of our food carried on the wind—or perhaps it was us who were being smelled as food by whatever lay beyond the trees.
**********
The chatter from the predatory locals in the jungle had kept me up for many nights since our arrival, but always Syymbacca was there to reassure me. He kept me from dwelling on my anger, kept me alert, aware, and unafraid. We stared up at the stars from our unsheltered bedrolls in the camp each night. One solace was that we were allowed to sleep in the open, though still trapped. Having nowhere to escape on the hostile planet only made things worse, and the pervasive moisture nearly drove me mad.
My dream came to me again as it had in one form or another since the first time in the cargo bay of the Imperial freighter. Again, the void coming to claim me, the Stormtroopers holding me fast to my fate, and my voice being called in the distance. The feelings it brought to me were refreshed. That night the most unlikely savior saved me from my nightmares.
A thundering, metallic stomping that shook the earth woke us all. We stirred from our bedrolls to see several huge, two-legged, beasts walking towards the construction site. Giant box-like heads with holes for eyes, blaster cannons for ears and a nose, supported by two thick bipedal legs. A total of six of the walkers spread out along the perimeter of the construction site in a bizarre techno-herd of machines. There was panicked whispering among the rest of the Wookiees, but they were too afraid to point, or make any big movements. Syymbacca broke in with his calm voice to ease them. The Imperial technological creatures fascinated me. I was overwhelmed by the power they represented, in complete awe of the power it took to bend unyielding materials to their will. They were very small and wholly insignificant parts making up the much larger Imperial War Machine. A part of me admired the Empire for their outlandish and grandiose designs. Try for yourself to look upon an Imperial Walker or Star Destroyer without your bowels anxiously wiggling within you.
"Come on, Makaashyya," Syymbacca put his hand on my shoulder, "we better get to work, we don't need to give them a reason to train their beasts on us." I followed Syymbacca and the Elder Wookiee to our work assignment, looking back over my shoulder the whole time at the patrolling Imperial AT-ST Walkers. Other work groups were slowly erecting the fences about the site. In the short time we had been there, progress was quick and cruel. The Stormtroopers marched back and forth glaring at us through the visors in their armored helmets; I could feel them. With their blasters in hand and their gigantic counterparts roaming about the valley, they served as powerful motivators to perform well for the oppressors.
Our job was the construction of the guard towers that surrounded the larger structure. The framing had been set into the foundation before we ever arrived, Syymbacca and I. The towers were hexagonal in shape and stretched into the dark sky at least fifteen times Syymbacca's height; the gray steel offered no contrast to the clouds that were always on the edge of storm. The Elder Wookiee with us had already begun climbing the tower for the day's work while we were pulling ourselves away from the sight of the AT-STs. Syymbacca unloaded thick steel plates from a rack, connected them to a cable and hoisted them up to where the Elder welded them into place. I started at the bottom fixing the steel into place at the foundation.
Later that day the ever-threatening rain clouds finally followed through and began to rain around noon, and continued throughout the night as if to make our tasks even more difficult. Our fur mingled with the mud, twisting it into knots, making us look like some kind of bog creatures. I am sure the sight was quite hilarious to the oppressors who sought shelter for themselves underneath tents, but they kept their blasters pointed in our direction.
*********
The following day, after being woken up by kicking, taunting, and shouting stormtroopers, we were ordered to line up before our slavers. The Imperial Colonel in charge stood before us. He kept his hands behind his back and took a quick look up and down our ranks as if sizing us up. He spoke in his familiar cold tone and declared that our quota was not met the previous day, despite the fact that the rain and lack of sleep and food hindered our performance. It was like they wanted us to fail and encouraged it. None of us dared to look up as we were scolded like children. I noticed some of the other Wookiees who had been there longer than Syymbacca and I trembled in fear. That set my nerves on edge. I could see the Elder's hands shaking as I kept my head lowered, but shifted my eyes left and right to look at everyone else.
The Imperial Colonel interrogated the first Wookiee in the line. A young, strong and tall Wookiee, tall as Syymbacca, his fur was a timid blond, but you could hardly tell from the grime that caked him. The young male could have easily torn the arrogant Imperial limb from limb given the chance, but he kept his head low.
"You are the leader of the teams beneath you. If you cannot keep your kind on schedule, you force me to take action," the Colonel scolded. "Now punishment must be appropriated."
I strained my eyes to look at the Wookiee being accused; his thick arms shook, and he made fists with his hands to keep them from trembling. I was startled by the fear that emanated from him. I vaguely remembered a time when Wookiees feared nothing. I pondered what had happened to us as a people as I watched him shake.
No one dared to move for fear of being included in the punishment, yet Syymbacca and I were unsure what the punishment was, being the first display to our eyes. The tall Wookiee was moved from the line by an E-11 blaster jabbed into his back by a Stormtrooper. Then, with a sharp crack from the stock of the rifle to the back of his knees, the Wookiee fell to the ground. He gritted his teeth in pain, but he made no sound.
My heart raced in anticipation and fear. My skin crawled and my fur stood on end. I was barely able to see the Wookiee on his knees in the mud. I craned my neck to risk a look. Once again, before I could comprehend what was happening, a red blaster bolt ripped through his skull from behind. His body went limp and fell sickeningly into a heap on the ground. The blood that flowed from the wound, from his nose and ears, flowed like a waterfall and mixed with the mud in a horrid concoction of brownish-black and arterial red.
Then with all the arrogance and disconnect befitting an Imperial officer, the Colonel announced to the horrified row of Wookiees before him, "This lesson has concluded. Let us not repeat the same mistakes." And he walked away as if nothing had happened. As if it were an inanimate object that had just fallen from the sky, not a living, breathing creature. The oppressors were indifferent to the murder as they went back to their duties. They allowed us to stand there for seconds, or maybe it was minutes; I am not sure. We stood there looking at the fallen Wookiee until we were ordered back to work, and we were not called off duty until late the following morning, our sleep time cut by half. We stayed on schedule.
**********
We woke at the usual time with only half the sleep we were normally allowed, in order to make up for construction delays of the previous day when a life was taken as punishment. It was all the more effective knowing that it could have been any one of us. I no longer questioned why once proud and strong Wookiees had become timid and broken. The reality that Syymbacca and I had been inducted into was made all the more real after that. The seriousness and hopelessness came down on us with all the weight of that planet Dathomir, full of darkness and suffering.
The thoughts of that Wookiee being killed ran in and out of my mind throughout that day vying for dominance with the dreams I continued to have each night. I didn't even know the Wookiee's name, as if knowing would somehow immortalize him within me. I couldn't stop thinking of him. I figured he could not have been much older than I, and now it was all over for him, maybe for the better.
We continued our work, speaking very little. I believe Syymbacca was thinking as I was, and was trying to work through it. Ironically, the labors were a distractive bit of therapy.
**********
Despite the lack of sleep, the dream still came that night, and every other night. More clear, more vivid, more frightening than ever. With each visit it refreshed feelings of fear, loss, and hatred in my heart, but when I woke I somehow felt calm, stewing in my growing anger.
I kept quiet and didn't put words to my thoughts no matter how doggedly they invaded my consciousness. The knowing glances from Syymbacca were enough to communicate what he and I feared to do with words, words that could have led us both to the same fate as the tall blonde one. The days pressed on, and with the completion of the first guard tower we were given an extra ration of food as a reward. The wooden-tasting Imperial rations amounted to a bitter celebration.
Several weeks passed and the flesh was slowly covering the bones of the prison. We had erected two of the guard towers, and the foundation for the yard fencing had been poured a few days past. Transports filled with Stormtroopers, and equipment of all kinds arrived daily. More Wookiee slaves also arrived. Most of the equipment remained covered as it was unloaded from the ship and taken to the small section of the prison that had been erected, and declared off limits to the laborers, shielded from our eyes.
Three more delays had occurred since the first, three more murders followed. Among them was the Elder Wookiee with whom we were paired and who trained us. The three who were punished for the deeds of the whole were merely among the public executions. Wookiees disappeared in the night usually without a sound. One attempted an escape during feeding time into the unknown jungle that surrounded the construction site, the last trace of his existence swallowed up by the shadows, welcomed by excited sounds of predators. Yet, there was no shortage of replacements to fill vacancies.
Yes, the dreams continued every night. Knowing my brother would be next to me when I woke was the only thing that kept me from crying out and running for the trees. With just the two of us in our working group, we were the smallest of any of the teams, which made me nervous. We were easily noticed and more likely to be taken to task for our mistakes, so we worked all the more meticulously.
We were working on a third guard tower set on the far side of the construction site away from most of the other groups of slaves. It was an abnormally bright day, but I welcomed the warmth, and reveled in the first rays of light that we had seen since we arrived. Syymbacca was even able to coax a few smiles out of me, mocking the guards and their puny forms hiding beneath their armor. He joked he could shatter it to pieces given the chance. He boasted about how he would rip them limb from limb and feed the soldiers to the creatures beneath our great cities, and then use the funny looking armor for soup bowls.
I couldn't help but giggle at the last joke. It made my throat sore, having been so long since we had laughed together, or really spoke openly. It became our undoing. I dropped a hydrospanner onto the ground and it broke from the fall as it slammed on the foundation of the tower. Just as I had feared the mistake was quickly noticed. A Stormtrooper guard hollered at us to get down from the tower. He walked quickly towards us, his blaster at his hip. I slowly climbed down, and as I reached just a few feet from the ground the Stormtrooper grabbed the fur on my leg and pulled me from the tower. I landed hard onto the ground on my back, and was unable to recover quick enough to block the butt of his blaster as he slammed it into my head.
Dear Syymbacca reacted foolishly, but for my defense, and he grabbed the blaster from the surprised Stormtrooper. The trooper stood there trying to decide whether or not to raise his hands, hovering somewhere between disbelief that such a lowly creature could muster any rebellious bravado, and the fact that a large creature was pointing his own rifle at his midsection. Syymbacca stood there with blaster in hand hardly able to decide his next move before another Stormtrooper let loose a stunning bolt from his blaster. The repercussions were swift and violent.
The disarmed Stormtrooper quickly reclaimed his weapon and dealt untold blows to my brother's prone body, using his rifle as a club. I wiped the blood from my face, and I cried out for them to stop, grabbing one by the arm. The Stormtrooper spun, and hit me across the face once again with the butt of the blaster knocking me back to the ground. My vision went blurry, and the last thing I remember were the sounds of Syymbacca being beaten as I lost consciousness.
It seemed that the moment my vision went dark, the dream came as it had time and again before. The Wookiees in the village slaughtered. My arms and legs seized by the Stormtroopers. The void coming towards me, the voice calling out my name, though when I looked to see where it was coming from, I saw Syymbacca lying on the ground with the other slain Wookiees mouthing my name as blood oozed from his mouth, his eyes staring at me blankly.
I jolted awake wanting to scream, and immediately my head began to throb from the beating I received. I felt around in the caked blood on my head and noticed more cuts and bumps. They must have hit me while I was out, I assumed, and someone must have dragged me towards the bedrolls. I closed my eyes to try and ignore the pain, but any one of my movements just inflamed it. I looked around despite the pain, not seeing Syymbacca anywhere. Worry overcame everything else. I stood, ignoring the dizziness, and went to the first Wookiee I saw to find out what had happened to Syymbacca.
"Where is he, what did they do with him?" I asked desperately, grabbing onto the arms of the starved, matted-fur waste of a once strong Wookiee.
"He has been locked up," he reluctantly told me. "Chained to the tower you were working on. He is there still."
I ran to the tower trying not to stumble over my own feet in my concussion induced haze. I saw Syymbacca there as the Wookiee said he would be, but in far worse condition than I feared. Blood ran across his face in tiny rivers and dripped off and onto the ground. His chest moved very slowly and gently with his breathing. I ran to him and tried to get him to respond to reassure me that there was still life in him. His eyelids fluttered and then finally opened. A small and shaky smile grew on his face as he looked at me. He asked me if I was ok. It was more than I could bear. I broke into tears.
"That was pretty funny," he said, "I got my hits in," he half-heartedly bragged as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he lost consciousness.
"You, slave! Do no disturb the prisoner. Finish your work detail." A Stormtrooper yelled to me as he walked towards us, that damned blaster in hand. "You have twice the work to do and less time to do it in."
I looked at him with wide-eyes, dumbfounded.
"But I need my brother, I can't do it without him," I plead. The Stormtrooper didn't understand what I was saying. The Stormtrooper stood there with the blaster pointed at my middle.
"Get to work!" he yelled.
I wanted to rip the oppressor's head from his body right then and there. I wished Syymbacca were strong enough to do it. For a brief moment, the desire for revenge overcame the importance of my life, until I looked back to Syymbacca, and stopped myself. I tore my glance away from my bloodied brother, grabbed my tools, and set to work on the rest of the tower as ordered. For all the times Syymbacca had comforted me, I was helpless to comfort him as he hung there, bleeding, dirty, and exhausted. I could only be his savior by taking everything on myself, as he had done for me so many times before without a second thought.
I worked as quickly as I could. Syymbacca, just below, bleeding, and chained kept me focused. The hate I had for the Stormtroopers, for the Empire drove me on, fueling me. I didn't lower myself using the ropes to retrieve more materials in the normal practice. I instead let myself drop from the heights, landing harshly on my feet, and rappelled my way back to the top to continue working. The faster I worked, the angrier I became, and the less the fall hurt my feet and legs, like my rage was protecting me, cushioning my fall and giving me the strength and speed I needed to succeed. The fur on my hands thinned out from the shower of sparks. My eyes were sore from staring into the bright, blue light of the welder as it fused metal-to-metal, adding steel skin to the skeletal structure. I could hear Syymbacca beneath me. He weakly called my name, but I ignored him, desperately trying to finish putting together the obscenity of the Empire's design.
The day was quickly coming to a close. Sleep time was being called, and few of the other work groups of Wookiees were packing it up for the night and had started to watch me from their sleeping area. Two Stormtroopers and an officer had gathered near the base of the tower. The officer approached Syymbacca, and the other two watched me like buzzards. I was closing the final gaps in the last panel; with one last weld, and another tuft of fur being singed off, I dropped from the top of the tower, slowing my fall with the rope, and burning my hands on the way down. Careful not to drop the tool again, I stood erect before the two Stormtroopers and officer; with the greatest of restraint and feigned respect that I could muster, I declared that I was finished. The officer looked at me with the usual cold stare we all were too familiar with, and then looked to Syymbacca.
"Release him," said the officer, and then he looked to me. "Punishment will not be so forgiving the next time. Remember that, Wookiee," he said flippantly, and walked away.
The two Stormtroopers released Syymbacca from his binders and let him fall to the ground, and then they followed their superior. I tried to catch my brother, but didn't realize how weak I was, and I collapsed underneath his weight. I struggled to lift him from the ground, and dragged him to the sleeping area onto his bedroll. I did the best I could to clear the caked blood from his face with a torn rag and some of my ration water. He looked at me with his one uninjured gray eye, and smiled despite his pain and weariness.
"Thank you, sister, I am sorry I made you do that alone." He trailed off to a murmur, closed his eyes and slept. I finished cleaning him up and laid my head down on his chest, unable to hold myself up any longer. I closed my eyes. I could still see the violent blue-flame of the welder burnt into the darkness. Perhaps, I thought, this will drown out the dream for one night. It was not to be so.
The dream came again. I saw my family slain and bleeding on the wooden floor of our village. The void came towards me, and again the Stormtroopers held me in place despite my struggling. I heard my name being called louder on the wind. When I turned to look Syymbacca was no longer there, all the bodies were gone. When I woke I felt somewhat comforted, but had a newfound worry about the meaning of the change in the dream. The bodies were gone. But where my mother, grandfather, my brother, and the other Wookiees in the village lay dead, there was only emptiness. I shook my head and pushed the thoughts away.
I must be going crazy, I told myself.
**********
Morning came and I woke first. I lifted Syymbacca's head onto my lap, and stroked his fur to wake him. The swelling in his eye had relaxed. The cuts on his face were red, irritated, but quickly closing. He was always a fast healer. Syymbacca forced himself up and stretched his limbs to ready himself. He was able to look upon me with both eyes, and as always his warm smile grew upon his lips to greet me for the dawn of a new day, a new day that quickly progressed into our daily routine of work.
Tower after tower, and day after day. The only reprieve was that the weeks passed by without incident. That was until the raising of the final tower was nearly completed. We were hurriedly finishing up the final tower of the complex, nearing our due time. Syymbacca had recovered fully despite the poor conditions we lived in. He worked almost merrily, more for my benefit than his own; he never showed fear, or doubt. He retained his easygoing demeanor, and was confident without worry of consequence. I kept my worry inside, not wishing to stir up the ever-caring guardian within my brother to further protect and encourage me about our dire circumstances.
"Just a few more welds up here," Syymbacca said from atop the tower, as I was busy finishing up the final welds a few panels below.
Night was coming. The clouds growing darker were some of the subtle indications of the changing of sentinels in the sky on that planet, which seemed to never see sun. We finished up the welding, and started to lower ourselves from the top of the tower when a Stormtrooper yelled at us from a short distance across the field to line up. My hands immediately began to tremble. I was so concerned with completing my own task that the thought of a different work team not completing their own duties was the furthest thought from my mind. Syymbacca told me it was going to be okay, and that he would be by my side no matter what happened.
The Stormtrooper held his blaster on us, and herded us to the line where the rest of the Wookiees already stood. I wrung my sore, burnt, hands in anticipation, and felt the feeling of foreboding as my senses stood on end. I looked up into the sky, as if expecting the very clouds to come crashing down on me. It started to rain, and the spongy ground hungrily soaked up the moisture. We took our place in line and routinely looked to the ground knowing that another murder was coming.
The same Imperial Colonel that presided over each execution stood before us again, always arrogant, hateful, and impeccable.
"Yet another delay," he spat. "Perhaps we are being too lax in our efforts to persuade you to work your best for the Empire. So instead today, there will be two punishments carried out, and as the delays increase, so will the punishments. The more that fail, the more that will die."
My chin started to quiver uncontrollably. I had seen enough death of my kin, but was too paralyzed by fear to do anything about it. More Wookiees had been arriving with unknown sorts of equipment that remained in locked crates away from our eyes, and the already grim mood among the Imperials guarding us had changed in a way I could not yet explain.
The Colonel then made his selections.
"You and you." The officer pointed to a Wookiee on my right at the end of the line and then he pointed to me. I jerked my head up to look at the Colonel in disbelief. Before I could mutter a pleading word, or cry out, even before the Stormtrooper guards could react, Syymbacca broke from the line and rushed the Colonel. Syymbacca knocked him to the ground and set his weight upon him, grasping for the Colonel's throat with his powerful hands. His roar echoed throughout the jungle. The Colonel couldn't scream, as Syymbacca started to squeeze the shocked Imperial's throat with his great strength summoned up, as if in waiting all that time to save me from the fate that the Colonel had chosen me for.
I cried out Syymbacca's name and made to stop him. I didn't see the surrounding Stormtroopers level their blasters at Syymbacca. A blinding flash of red blaster bolts ripped through Syymbacca's body, an onslaught that went on seemingly forever to my eyes. I watched Syymbacca as he was hit by bolt after bolt, his arm, his leg, his chest, and then his head. His bulging muscles went lax, and his roar went silent. It was as if I could see his soul leaving his body. He slumped over on top of the Imperial Colonel, who pushed Syymbacca's body off of him to fall over limp into the ever-thickening mud. The Colonel's hands quivered, his voice shaky.
"Kill her!" he yelled hoarsely, jabbing his finger at me in final judgment. I spared no thought for anything. I ran. I broke from the line, and past the Colonel, past Syymbacca's lifeless body, kicking up mud in my wake. I ran. I scarcely noticed the bolts striking dangerously close to my body. The world around me was a blur as I sought escape into the jungle, not caring for what was behind the curtain of trees and heavy brush, not even taking notice of the laser bolts that pierced my calf, my thigh and my shoulder. I kept running. Jumping over dead logs and roots reaching up from the ground like tentacles to impede me. Ducking under thick hanging vines, and ignoring the feral sounds that could always be heard from the ungainly sanctuary of my prison, my prison no longer. I ran until all thought left me, until my chest felt like it was ready to cave in. My breathing came in shuddering, wracking gasps. My tears became a veil between the world and me as I kept running, until I finally collapsed in the mulch.
I tried to catch my breath as my sobs shook my body. My head swam with thousands of thoughts and memories. My heart ached with pain for my beloved brother and I felt like I had been struck by all of the blaster rounds that killed so many of my own. My entire body felt like a tangled mass of snakes biting at each other, writhing with one another, desperately trying to be free, but trapped in agony. All went black. I dreamt nothing. The dream didn't come to pour salt into my wounds. It let me pass into unconsciousness, to leave me in morbid peace. I don't know how long I lay there until consciousness came to greet me at the tip of a spear.