Hai!
Sorry for the ridiculously long wait... I don't have any excuse other than Writer's Block.
Pathetic excuse, I know. But, clearly, you didn't mind waiting enough to stop reading this. So cheers for that!
Erm... don't know what else to put here... oh, yeah. Disclaimer with hilarity. Right.

One day there will be a perfect world.
People will love, not hate. There will be peace, not war.
Chocolate will be beneficial to human health for real, not just in the 'but it's got antioxidants' way.
And I will own Star Wars.
Just a pity that's all bollocks, and could never happen.
Pity.

Enjoy the latest chapter, folks!

We ran towards the storm, dreading the moment when we hit it.
The wind began to hiss past us. My hair blew across my face, obscuring my view. I relied on Quphi for all direction. Owen was holding on for dear life behind me. I didn't blame him. I could hear the dragon coming closer.
But what would catch us first, the storm or the dragon?
The storm won. I thought Owen was shouting something, but I couldn't hear any more. Quphi never slowed.
If we could just reach the eye…
The wind tore violently at my clothes. My boots were literally blown off my feet. My mouth and ears filled with sand that ripped at my bare skin. It was the dunes as I had never known them. Savage and unfriendly, with no robe, no hood to shield me from its wrath. I was a sitting dewback. We both were. The winds raged on, whipping us deeper into the melee. Long moments passed. I lost track of time. We were losing. Maybe we had already lost, defeated by my own home.

"I'm- I'm sorry!" I coughed as loud as my lungs would allow.

Then- calm. Silence.

"Sorry for what?" Owen grinned in sheer relief.

We had reached the eye.

"That was the craziest plan. I'm amazed we made it."

"To tell the truth, so am I."

Owen raised an unruly, windswept eyebrow. "Thanks for telling me."

"If I had told the truth, would you have trusted me?"

"I think maybe the sudden riding into the storm shook my trust more." He attempted a joke.

We both laughed, exalted at our narrow escape.
A roar echoed off the rocks.
Quphi, who had been laying in exhaustion, rolled to her feet and honked with fear.
I knew that roar.

"I don't think we lost the dragon."

Owen whipped out his blaster, the one that he had aimed at me not so long ago. It was caked in sand, utterly useless.
"Ah."

"What?"

"I think we're dead."

I turned to him, my face set in newfound expression, the one that went with my favourite emotion. Stubbornly, I declared, "Not yet."

The roars were getting closer. Owen was still trying to get his weapon working, while I was checking my Cycler. Woeful shot as I was, I wouldn't be using it.

"Owen. Use this." I passed him the heavy rifle.

"Uh… how?"

"Don't ask me. Aim and shoot. I can't aim."

"As long as you're confident."

"Was I right about the storm?"

He fell silent. I had won the argument. Quphi shifted uneasily, smelling the approaching dragon. I leaned into her ear.
"Easy, Quphi. We'll get through this. Don't be scared, I'm here." I whispered low enough for my brother to not hear me in my no-longer-native tongue.

A roar, cruel and heart-stopping. It was close. I raised the dysfunctional blaster, praying to the Spirits of the dead that it would work.
Please, K'qui'ca'ck… let it work. Please… Shmi. Mother. Let us live…

The sinewy body came into distant view. Owen loosed a few bolts. One clipped the tail. "There's some throw on this, no wonder you can't aim." He complained.

"At least it fires." I pumped the trigger. A red light streamed out. Success! It flew wide of the mark, but it was a shot.

As the Krayt neared, I tossed Owen the more reliable weapon, still not having hit anything except sand. Instead, I reached for my Gaderffii.
It was upon us. Rearing on stumpy back legs, it screeched. I issued a call back, if only to drown out the Dragon's. With a swinging leap, I mounted Quphi. Owen was still firing, alternating between weapons.

"What are you doing? Olive!"

"We're not dead yet!" I yelled, accidentally in Tusken.

Quphi charged. Within seconds she was knocked flying by the Krayt's giant head. I careened the other way, becoming entangled in the whipping tail. Winded, it was all I could do just to hold on and endure the wild thrashes. My strength gave out. I slammed into the sand. The dragon trampled over me, ignorant as its weighted foot came down on my shoulder. I felt as if life itself was being crushed from my body. It hurt. Pain like I'd never experienced. I yelled.

"Olive! OLIVE!"

I couldn't form words, just screams of no particular language. I rolled away from the feet, but only succeeded in landing on my own Gaffi stick. As it was my only option, I grabbed it. Another foot came down, this time, on my wrist. My screams crescendoed into ear splitting. I had to let go of the stick. I was doomed.

Without warning, the Dragon shifted. It turned to something else, no longer concerned with its sitting-dewbak captive. I took my chance. Using my one good arm, I held my Gaderffii and swung at the Krayt's belly, exposed above my head. It swiped at me. Again I was airborne, coming to a jarring stop atop its reptilian back. I felt something in one leg crack. Still yelling at the top of my voice, I plunged the Gaffi into its neck. I twisted. The Dragon howled in agony, knowing it had lost this fight, it would die. Exhausted, I lost my precarious grip in its death throes. I didn't stay awake to see if it really was dead.

It was black before I hit sand.

"Olive?"

A voice.

"Olive?"

A familiar voice.

"Olive?"

Owen!

I gasped for air, slamming my eyelids apart to face the Tatoos. "I…I…I'm o-okay."
I grimaced. I really wasn't okay. One arm was totally useless, crushed at the shoulder and wrist, while the leg on the same side was contorted into a shape far too flexible to be natural. My head felt like fire.
"Not okay." I corrected.

"As long as you're alive."

"Just about."

Without warning, he pulled me into a- gentle- hug. I returned it despite the pain, resting my head on his shoulder. That allowed me to see past him. To a sight I never wanted to see.

"Quphi!"

My beloved Bantha was on her side, eyes glazed over in pain, blood matting her softly coarse hair.

"Oh, Quphi." I breathed.

She snuffled up at me.

"No…" I saw her wounds. It was painfully clear what had happened. "You saved me, Quphi." I didn't need to say it, but I felt I had to let her know I knew. That I was grateful. Because her show of bravery was a sacrifice. There was no possible recovery from injuries like that.
"I love you, Quphi." I began to cry.

"Olive… we should get back." Owen's voice was low and somehow soft. It made no difference.

"Leave me here."

"It's too dangerous."

"I'm staying."

"You can't."

"I can! Quphi needs me. I can't abandon her!"

"Olive… it's just a Bantha-"

"She's more than that! She's Quphi!"

He seemed to realise how much Quphi meant to me. He paused for a moment. "She did this for you. If you get killed out here, her death will be for nothing."

"She's not dead yet!"

"But she will be. I'm sorry, Olive. Really, I am. But she's dying."

"I know!" I sobbed. "I… I know."

I had a few more moments with her. She and I curled up together, like we had every night since I was seven, and I buried myself in her warmth. It had always been this way- the two of us, bound together in what was so much more than rider and mount, more even than friends. It couldn't end. It just couldn't. Her eyes, filled with pain, deepened into love. I could feel her breathing, her great side moving up and down with each intake and exhale, always constant. But then, it began to waver.

"I love you."

The rise and fall stopped.

"Thankyou, Quphi."

Without her, everything seemed a little colder. The suns were a little darker. I was more than a little emptier.

Must I lose everyone?

Owen put an arm around me. I hadn't lost him. Not yet. But I would.

Because he wanted to ask me questions.
And I had to give him answers.
I had to give him the truth.