Flashes.

[Azzy]

Flashes of the battlefield race through your mind.

You see your master. You see Apprentice Racta. You see a Republic walker.

Sand whirls over feet… Sand whirls over bodies… Sand whirls over comrades… You have nowhere to step…

Pleading eyes look up. They search for yours. Theirs beg for help.

You look around. Dozens more faces. Those same pleading expressions. So many lie injured. So few stand to help.

Drip…

You feel the hair behind your head grow full.

Drip…

You feel the hair behind your head form into a single clump.

Drip…

You feel the hair behind your head give way.

Drip…

You scan those that stand around you. You look for a medic in their midst. Your eyes find one. Your eyes find a second. Your eyes find no more.

You beckon them closer. Your arm points to one pair of pleading eyes. Your arm moves to a second. You make your choices.

You assign the right to live to those you deem most worthy. You do it without a second thought. You don’t think about it in the moment; you play god with these men.

You hear a noise out to your left. Your gaze leaves the sea of pleading eyes.

You see your master. You see Apprentice Racta. You see a Republic Walker.

Drip…

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

Drip…

You feel a cold shiver echo down your spine.

Drip…

You feel a tingling sensation in the tips of your fingers.

Drip…

You reach out for your master.

Your hand closes into a fist.

You try.

You fail.

You duck down. You look around you again. You see a single mass of darkness.You feel an ever comforting presence. You feel every individual share your fate. Your eyes are drawn, always, to one individual. To your individual.

Drip…

You feel your vision fade.

Drip…

You feel your balance waver.

Drip…

You do not feel the floor rise to greet you.

Drip…

Drip…

Drip…