ㅤ ㅤ Carnage. Bloodlust of the most tender kind, one that could be smelled from miles away. The pungent smell of it blinded her senses. She waited for the page to turn, for her last breath to make its way out of her lungs. The summer cicadas and citrus orchards were already welcoming her into her own personal paradise.
Her rue will be a lore long lost in the pages of history. The future was probably just a mirage. Maybe she had been lying all along, feasting over the sorrow that would rage over her people like a tidal wave. The glint of hope in their once hollow eyes would soon disappear.
She wouldn't have to bear the weight of disappointment. The shackles of weightlessness were harder to break than rusted metal ones bruising her arms, the reminder of her failure in battle.
It would all the easy to overcome once the died. Letting down her people, failing to overthrow the Harkonnen and her deepest desire to be loved would all be non-existent. Her body would be nothing but a dusting skeleton and her soul would roam the universe.
Maybe in her next life, she wouldn't be a pathetic warrior who thought she could change the world.
With all these thoughts running through her mind, her blade crumbled away like a single snowflake. Two bullets hit her skin.
A groan of pain escaped from her lips. She wiped her lips with her bloody hand, smearing the red liquid across her face. It was almost like a scene from a gorey horror movie. The monsters ❨in this case, the harkonnen soldiers who ambushed her❩ were already winning. She would be nothing more than a failed hero, a bad example.
Her overconfidence would be her fatal flaw. One that would drive her straight to death. She should have known that the Harkonnen were not so dumb.
They had already been anticipating her. Her plans were leaked to them, by a traitor possibly from her own tribe. Drops of precious water and a few solari would be enough to bribe this traitor. She could almost see the wretched creature lapping up the water from their pale hands and stuffing the solari in his pockets. As rage filled her heart and threatened to pour out.
It was certain that the traitor is not the outworlder. The Harkonnen would never let someone who was a threat to them live. It must be a Fremen. Even though it was true, nothing but guilt and fury filled her. A person of her own, honourable Fremen tribe had done this.
