All right, all right. Revan. Or not, as the case may be. We'll see.

She's a nice enough lass, despite everything. I'd say I prefer her company to Bastila's, anyway. Which is a good thing, since she bothers me every five minutes, trying to make me into her damned Jedi mentor. When she talks, you can see the brilliance, or the evil or however it currently manifests itself – what's made her so important these last few years. Playing across her lips, sparking from her hands. My improvised 'swirling Force' seems like a simpler way to describe it.

Getting to sleep is difficult for me these days, though I couldn't say why. She seems to be on my mind tonight. I doubt I'll be able to rest until I figure her out a bit. Blast it.

Perhaps a little story, then. Her tale. She seems to have gotten me back into the habit of telling stories... honestly, I'm getting sick of these fables! But if it helps me sleep, so be it.

.

Once, not very long ago, there was a girl from a remote village. For whatever reason, she got too big for that place and came to live with the priests in a nearby town. There she became very clever and everyone was immensely impressed by her. After a while, naturally, they made her their leader. She became more and more distant as she grew bigger and bigger, and eventually she found she had almost no-one to talk to.

The Great Desert was the only place with enough room for her now. She had a friend with her, at first. Another large character. Enormous, rather gangly. But he wasn't smart enough to engage her, and so she cut out his tongue. Soon she had grown cleverer than the world's languages would allow, and so she spoke through battles, through gestures. Subtle things. Eventually she had no need for a voice, or a name at all, and so she took to wearing a black mask. This allowed her to think more clearly. It made her happy. Her friend, now having no voice to lose, tried to emulate her... making scratching noises with his throat, and... all manner of unpleasant things. One day he got upset an took his inevitable revenge, and he broke her fragile mask into pieces. Confused the life out of her, I can tell you!

So, silently and helplessly, she starts running about the dunes, wondering if she ought to look for her old helpers the monks, or else make her camp someplace. The lass had always liked the sand, you see. So, back to the desert. It all ties together, repeats, like poetry. Uhgn. Goodness me.

Eventually, after she's been roaming around for days with a still, dry tongue, it all happens.

In the desert she comes across a little tribe of people – much, much stupider than she is. Their chief has rather a bad feeling about all of this. Understandably! Seeing this great giant treading around in his stretch of the sand... he waves his big wooden stick around and growls at the intruder. The girl looks around and sees something she wants in his posession - a map out of the desert.

Suddenly something incredible seems to... drop out of the sky. As it were. In an instant her eyesight grows clearer, her limbs stronger. She can almost hear a fanfare behind her. Once again, she grows, and the power of speech returns to her, too. By the most unlikely chance, all of a sudden, she finds a way to talk to the chief. Her old self starts coming back to her. Now, she knows that she can get her precious map by chatting with the poor man a bit – as unbelievable as this may seem – or with a single blow.

She ponders the great luck she has had, and then she gets uncomfortable. Itchy, bored of standing still, as children so often are. Hungry, I shouldn't wonder. It all gets too much and she strikes the blow, without a word to the unfortunate, bewildered tribal chief. He dies immediately, falling in his burial clothes, and in the following wordless frenzy she tears through the desert. People in her way are simply cut down, animals are ripped apart by their bones, all sorts of carnage! Blood everywhere. And she is only, finally exhausted when she slays a great dragon.

Now. In her frenzy and in her solitude, the girl has developed such a closeness with the desert's creatures... that she's become one of them, as dry and as cold-blooded and true as any other. And slowly but certainly, she actually turns into a snake. Her instincts become unnaturally fast, her clever tongue gets too quick to follow. Finally, her eyes yellow and her skin cracks right off, revealing hard scales underneath.

Back home the village elders are worried, naturally, and they tell her that now she must leave the desert, and instead go to the woods and the ocean. In the forest, she passes a young man's house. And he's just so... fascinated by the sight of this snake that he can't help but follow it. The fellow helps the snake out of the forest. He clears the branches from its path and helps it over obstacles. He even works to keep it fed. And then...

.

I suppose you need snakes, honestly, every now and again. Exar, Malak... Kraat... and so on. Stopping them is... well, something to do. Somebody, some unfortunate fellow, is supposed to be the snake. Dry skin. Big teeth. Without any volunteers we'd be fighting each other, or some such. This one... this young lady has had her turn now. I hope she...

Well, that seems to have bored me enough to elicit a decent yawn. Finally! How do they expect an old man to get any sleep lying in a cramped medical bay with... bright white walls...

With no door!

It's draughty! For crying out loud. Anyway, ughnm, that's the end of the story for today. We've all heard it before.