Orida was tired, and fell into a deep sleep the moment her head hit the pillow. As her body and mind relaxed further and further, she slipped into a dream. Part of her was aware that she dreamed, the other part was overwhelmed by the sights and sounds that assaulted her mind.
It was a battle scene, that she thought, at first, came from her early childhood and was a remnant those early nightmares. But as she looked around her, she realised that this was vastly different. The people were not human, the place was not New Earth. But the fear, the pain, the sound of firing weapons and the smell of burned, savaged flesh were all too well known to her.
“Roshni, come! Come! We must go!” , she felt herself being dragged away from the carnage. She ran, on feet that were not hers, and the air scorched lungs that had never held her breath.
After what seemed a panicked eternity they finally ducked into a waiting aircraft, and it was only after she had fumbled the unfamiliar seat belt into its place that she paused to notice her companion. It was impossible for her to tell if the person next to her was male or female. Its strong features had both aspects present. Its naked skull was oddly elongated, and swept back from its sculpted, high forehead. Other than that, and the six fingers on each hand, it appeared humanoid. Its face was pulled into a completely recognisable expression of grief and horror, mingled with outrage and determination. Its voice was rough with emotion, “Betrayed! At the final hour! Our people slaughtered! Our sacred land desecrated!”
Answering tears ran down her cheeks, and she stared in wonder at their sheen on her trembling six fingered hand.
“To think that we, Roshni and Habara, of the House of Barok, are the last.”
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