A/N: Own I do not Star Wars, KOTOR, or any characters.
Wish I did though.
The Man
As the darkness washed over him, he feels a slight pain of loneliness. It is a pain that he has become used to over the years. In the distance he hears the echo of a wookiee 'poor Freyyr'. As the sun sets behind the giant wroshyr trees, thoughts of a new day dance through his mind. He takes in the scent of the kashyy vines, lets a gentle breeze flow over his skin, and returns his gaze to the fire.
The shadows from the fire take the form of his memories and they dance on the tree trunks. Beside him lies the lightsaber of his wife, old and worn. A few tears manage to escape his eyes 'Oh Nayama'. The smell of freshly brewed tea returns his thoughts to the present. Pouring himself a cup, he takes a small sip, savoring the bitter flavor. Finishing his drink he extinguishes the fire. Content, yet still alone he glares off into the shadows as if to make his final comment to the world. The howl of a tach reminds him of his search for wisdom; the passing years have dispelled his youthful desires. At last he sleeps.
This is my first fic. So please don't criticize me to death.