The Angry Wolf
Coruscant. Always one war or another, this or that group vying for control, and still its towers remained bright, as though no scar could touch them.
The lower areas were a different story though. The streets here still bore the scars of a recent war, crowded with displaced citizens and worn soldiers wearing uniforms she did not recognize. Part of her knew that the wounds below the great and flickering lights would throb forever. Even when these healed, others would open in a blink of an eye. A planet could not exist in the very center of the galaxy, have trillions of people on it, and expect otherwise.
Alwine moved steadily through the organized chaos of the makeshift relief center, her children close at her side. Their hands, already not as small as they used to be, gripped hers tightly, faces set with determination beyond their years as they helped distribute food and water to those who had lost everything.
Aethelwulf, her daughter, was the oldest one. She would soon be twelve, and Alwine had done all she could for her education while trying to keep her safe. And while Alwine was many things, she was not a fool. She knew she would have to let go, and that her daughter would want to have a taste of the galaxy. This was part of why they had come here, of all places.
Wulfric, her youngest, was only eight. She couldn't bring his sister but leave him at home, so he got the join them, though Alwine's heart feared for his safety too.
Pride swelled in her chest watching them step forward without hesitation, taking their roles seriously, even as shadows of caution flickered behind her sharp eyes. Every glance over her shoulder, every tightened jaw, spoke to a constant, silent warning: here, danger lurked in plain sight.
Her heart beat fast, not just from the physical exertion, but from a long-buried instinct. The galaxy was vast, but enemies had a long memory. Alwine's jaw tightened. Anyone could appear. Anyone could strike.
Still, here they were. Together.
And for now, that was enough.
Attention all personnel, the loudspeakers began to shout, Possible infiltration detected in sector 7G. All volunteers and staff are advised to maintain heightened vigilance. Report any suspicious individuals or activity immediately to security officers. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill.
The lower areas were a different story though. The streets here still bore the scars of a recent war, crowded with displaced citizens and worn soldiers wearing uniforms she did not recognize. Part of her knew that the wounds below the great and flickering lights would throb forever. Even when these healed, others would open in a blink of an eye. A planet could not exist in the very center of the galaxy, have trillions of people on it, and expect otherwise.
Alwine moved steadily through the organized chaos of the makeshift relief center, her children close at her side. Their hands, already not as small as they used to be, gripped hers tightly, faces set with determination beyond their years as they helped distribute food and water to those who had lost everything.
Aethelwulf, her daughter, was the oldest one. She would soon be twelve, and Alwine had done all she could for her education while trying to keep her safe. And while Alwine was many things, she was not a fool. She knew she would have to let go, and that her daughter would want to have a taste of the galaxy. This was part of why they had come here, of all places.
Wulfric, her youngest, was only eight. She couldn't bring his sister but leave him at home, so he got the join them, though Alwine's heart feared for his safety too.
Pride swelled in her chest watching them step forward without hesitation, taking their roles seriously, even as shadows of caution flickered behind her sharp eyes. Every glance over her shoulder, every tightened jaw, spoke to a constant, silent warning: here, danger lurked in plain sight.
Her heart beat fast, not just from the physical exertion, but from a long-buried instinct. The galaxy was vast, but enemies had a long memory. Alwine's jaw tightened. Anyone could appear. Anyone could strike.
Still, here they were. Together.
And for now, that was enough.
Attention all personnel, the loudspeakers began to shout, Possible infiltration detected in sector 7G. All volunteers and staff are advised to maintain heightened vigilance. Report any suspicious individuals or activity immediately to security officers. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill.
