if they're watching anyways
"It came at night," the boy said. "We were playing in the- the ditch, the old one that's halfway to the next mountain. We thought we would be okay because the big sensors -- they see the grass-prowlers even at night. But it just-" tears welled up in the little Gran's eyes. "It- it killed them. I couldn't see it. It was all black. I just saw it- it ran like a spider, and- I just saw Zhoss'- his heart pulled out by it. And then it got its claws in Klo, and I just- I closed my eyes and ran."
"Ssshh, shh. It's okay." Ommals' mother hugged him tight.
"I didn't see it," he wept, "I didn't see them as they died. I didn't see them. They're- they're- lost. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have taken them."
Auteme put a calming hand on the boy's shoulder, but it was his mother who did the real work, crying with him, letting him feel it out. "It's not your fault, it's not your fault. We're okay. We're okay."
After a few minutes she felt it release a little, the boy becoming quiet. "Thank you for sharing that with me. Your mother's right -- it's not your fault." Part of her wanted to say more, but she imagined her own son coming to her like this, and knew there would be no replacement. "Thank you, Ommals. Nos."
Nos nodded, but didn't move; Auteme showed herself the exit.
Their home was typical for a Gran colony, adapted slightly to the slope of the mogote it was built into. The steep hill had three 'peaks', rounded lumps facing east, to which the more devout Doellinists found auspicious, and set it as the site of their village. They let the gamwidge eat the native grasses underneath, growing the crops in the hill's view, while their round homes dotted the southern side of the mount. From here, she could see, barely, the ditch Ommals spoke of -- three klicks away, marking the edge of the Gran's crops, and halfway to another mogote, the closest one in any direction, though dozens rose across the vast fields. The ditch where two of the village's children were found dead, one gutted like a fish, the other's head tossed to a nearby field, both missing their hearts.
Most Gran considered themselves crops to Doellin; to be incomplete, to sicken oneself, was an insult to their god. To be killed and deliberately mutilated, missing their heart -- the children's parents had been incensed, sorrowful; their cries continued even now.
Even as the community rallied together for its defense, they found themselves haunted at every turn. Two more children had disappeared, though no grisly remains could be found. The monster came and went without rhyme or reason. The tracks the hunters found ran them in circles. One night they found a gamwidge devoured, the next a gamwidge butchered, slashed cleanly at every spinal joint. Outhouses and equipment were destroyed, or left perfectly fine, save a spray of inky liquid thick like blood.
Her years in the Core had made her familiar with the monsters of civilization; here, at the fringes, things still lurked in the dark. No one other than Ommals had encountered the creature -- but, in her mind, his brief description confirmed it. This creature was not natural; it was the work of the Dark, intentional or no. It moved with a madness beyond that of an animal.
Pallisk, the boy's father, was walking up the steps to his home as Auteme descended the mount, slugthrower over his shoulder -- unused this night, perhaps thankfully. "Is he well?"
"Healing, I'd say. It'll be a long journey."
A nod. "And you? Can you helps us?"
A nod. "I'll do what I can."
"That's not what I want to hear, Jedi," he admitted, "but between the two of you, I hope you'll kill this thing."
"The two of us?"
"Ssshh, shh. It's okay." Ommals' mother hugged him tight.
"I didn't see it," he wept, "I didn't see them as they died. I didn't see them. They're- they're- lost. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have taken them."
Auteme put a calming hand on the boy's shoulder, but it was his mother who did the real work, crying with him, letting him feel it out. "It's not your fault, it's not your fault. We're okay. We're okay."
After a few minutes she felt it release a little, the boy becoming quiet. "Thank you for sharing that with me. Your mother's right -- it's not your fault." Part of her wanted to say more, but she imagined her own son coming to her like this, and knew there would be no replacement. "Thank you, Ommals. Nos."
Nos nodded, but didn't move; Auteme showed herself the exit.
Their home was typical for a Gran colony, adapted slightly to the slope of the mogote it was built into. The steep hill had three 'peaks', rounded lumps facing east, to which the more devout Doellinists found auspicious, and set it as the site of their village. They let the gamwidge eat the native grasses underneath, growing the crops in the hill's view, while their round homes dotted the southern side of the mount. From here, she could see, barely, the ditch Ommals spoke of -- three klicks away, marking the edge of the Gran's crops, and halfway to another mogote, the closest one in any direction, though dozens rose across the vast fields. The ditch where two of the village's children were found dead, one gutted like a fish, the other's head tossed to a nearby field, both missing their hearts.
Most Gran considered themselves crops to Doellin; to be incomplete, to sicken oneself, was an insult to their god. To be killed and deliberately mutilated, missing their heart -- the children's parents had been incensed, sorrowful; their cries continued even now.
Even as the community rallied together for its defense, they found themselves haunted at every turn. Two more children had disappeared, though no grisly remains could be found. The monster came and went without rhyme or reason. The tracks the hunters found ran them in circles. One night they found a gamwidge devoured, the next a gamwidge butchered, slashed cleanly at every spinal joint. Outhouses and equipment were destroyed, or left perfectly fine, save a spray of inky liquid thick like blood.
Her years in the Core had made her familiar with the monsters of civilization; here, at the fringes, things still lurked in the dark. No one other than Ommals had encountered the creature -- but, in her mind, his brief description confirmed it. This creature was not natural; it was the work of the Dark, intentional or no. It moved with a madness beyond that of an animal.
Pallisk, the boy's father, was walking up the steps to his home as Auteme descended the mount, slugthrower over his shoulder -- unused this night, perhaps thankfully. "Is he well?"
"Healing, I'd say. It'll be a long journey."
A nod. "And you? Can you helps us?"
A nod. "I'll do what I can."
"That's not what I want to hear, Jedi," he admitted, "but between the two of you, I hope you'll kill this thing."
"The two of us?"
