Star Wars: Vodran

Dark

The cry of an animal in the far distance was enough to startle Khorromi awake, springing upwards, taking deep quick breaths, her eyes wide and scanning the clearing. The fire had simmered down to embers, grey wisps of smoke rising toward the open sky. She was alert, but couldn't see far, the blackness in the forest was too daunting. She stayed motionless, other than her head pivoting and the rise and fall of her chest. Regulating her breathing was a challenge, as adrenaline surged in her veins. Something was amiss, closing her eyes she could hear the faintest sound, she could sense something was moving, but she didn't know where. Kurroth was asleep beside her, not bothered by the noise, Gren, Zyyacaha and Odala as well. She was alone in this void. A crack echoed behind her, and a momentary hesitation proved a mistake. A shot rang out, and a great pain undulated through her chest. Tears sprang from her eyes as she looked down; a burning hole was smoking through her robes, the orange glow like the fire embers gleamed blurry through her tears. Breathing was a harsh experience, and black blocked out her vision, the last thing she saw was her brother startling awake, and grabbing her before she fell. The rest of the group was awake, three red sabers sparked and glowed in the darkness, and in the low light the platoon of Shadow Troopers were exposed, surrounding the encampment. The space was miraculously lit by the fire of the trooper's blasters and the three deflected the shots, sending them back at their owners or flying into the night. The battle was like thunder and lightening, lighting the space with flashes and the booming of the blasters and the clash of the sabers deflection. Kurroth cradled his sister in his arms, motionless as she was, staring into her now lifeless eyes. Tears flowed down his cheeks, grouping on his chin, before falling down on Khorromi's cold and fair skin. The battle around him was mute, his thoughts scattered. A spark of hate blazed in his chest. Resonating from his heart, to his mind, his limbs, until it filled and enveloped him, until you could see it in his eyes. He lowered his beloved sister to the ground, closing her gentle, loving eyes. He rose to his feet, shots whizzing by his face, so close he could smell the ozone. Muffled shouts rang in the dark, but he shut them out. The trees around the clearing began to shake, rustling leaves and cracking branches. The force flowed through him, the Dark Side being embraced by his anger, becoming entirely powerful through him. He let loose a low growl, his fists clenching, fingernails breaking the skin of his palms, causing drops of blood to tarnish his robes. His low growl evolved into a holler, a shout, a scream, and ungodly roar that propelled itself from the core of his hate. The shooting had stopped, the sabers had halted, and all who surrounded him sat in fear and confusion.  There was a crack, and the whir of something flying through the air. A shadow trooper let out a small noise, which turned all heads as small as it was. Odala release a scream she could not contain, as the troopers mask had suddenly given way to a tree branch, shattering through the optical goggles in the mask, a red mist settling in the air. More cracks echoed all around them, follow by the same woosh as before, in a blind panic, the troopers open fire at Kurroth, who deflected no shots. His eyes were smashed close, his teeth gritted, as he focused all emotion into revenge. One after another the soldiers fell, red blood covering the ground in pools, cries of pain and despair everywhere, one less blaster heard every second until the silence was again restored. Kurroth stood, barely, glowing holes all over his body. He sat hunched forward, and the others could do nothing but watch, as he took a last breath. He muttered,

"I will see... You soon, sister-"

He dropped to his knees, and fell onto the sod, limp and absent of life.

***

The smell of the fire was drifting in and out of his nostrils, burning the inside of his nose, but he hadn't noticed. Gren drove the makeshift shovel into the ground again, the same sifting noise emanating from the hole he was digging. He hadn't known Kurroth and Khorromi for not more than a month, not until he had found the group while running from a common enemy, had he even met them. But watching them die was the hardest thing he had experienced. His absentmindedness caused him to drive the spade into his foot. He shrieked in surprise, dropping to the ground, and coddling his injured limb. He took a heavy sigh and limped out of the hole, looking at his work from the top made it harder to accept what had happened just an hour before. Two holes lay in front of him, nearly identical, he thought. A hand on his shoulder startled him, Odala set her concerned eyes on his face.

"Are they done?" She asked quietly, motioning to the graves he had dug.

"Yeah," He murmured, "they're done."

She turned around, about to walk off, and landed a soft, caring hand on his shoulder.

"How do you do it," he asked, "how do you stay strong, even when shit like this happens?" His eyes were watery now, his mouth gaped slightly,
"And why am I not as strong as you?"

She stayed silent, seeming to think about the question herself.

"Because death, is a natural part of life." She said cautiously, knowing who she was quoting. Someone she had sworn an oath to go against. Referring to the Jedi Order or any members of it, without hate and ridicule was considered an act of treason to the Sith. But she didn't care...

"You shouldn't do that..." Gren managed, still staring down at the graves.

"I don't care."

And with that she walked away, toward Zyyacaha, who had finished wrapping the lifeless bodies in shrouds, as well as he could with the restricting sling. The outlines of them were clearly distinguished. Both laid flat on the ground, holding their light sabers in crossed hands. Odala out stretched her hands, and their bodies elegantly lifted from the ground, closing her eyes she hovered the twins to the graves, slowly lowering them inside. She wiped the sweat from her brow, grabbed the shovel from an inconsolable Gren, and began shoveling mossy dirt on her fallen comrades.

***