Sometimes she dreams. Heroes and monsters, gods and demons. Dreams of all humans everywhere, brighten and darkened by the things she has seen out among the stars. Sometimes of people, others of places. Things she has lost and things that she has found. Often of a place long gone but living still within her. Grass and dust beneath her feet, wind in her hair and the sun on her back. Sometimes in the dreams she hunts on foot, others on horseback. Blood pumping in her heart and in her ears, blood pouring from a wound in her side, blood warm and sharp in her mouth from the kill. Running, running like she could run forever. Sometimes she runs alone, sometimes there are others at her side. Running from their past, running into the future, to grab it and tame it and claim it for their own. Mostly though it is Kaara by her side, running for the horizon, for no better reason than because they can. Running to hunt.
Come hunting sister.
Sometimes they do not hunt. Sometimes they play, they are, after all, a playful people at heart. They play with their prey, with odd objects and trifles, sometimes with each other. Sometimes their games are play-fights, sometimes the fights are real. Claws and teeth, blood and brutality.
But sometimes there is comfort. Sometimes the freedom they paid for with fur has not come with its price. The skins they wear are the ones they were born with, covered only by dirt and rags and souvenirs of past kills. Their hair, light and dark, tangled by the wind and roving fingers, tinged red by blood and the dying sun. They drink the blood red water and tend each other’s wounds — lips, fingers and tongues soothing the marks of nails and teeth. Sometimes amid the dust and the ruins they share a very human love, so different from brutal sisterhood of the hunt, but no less wild or free for that. Among her dreams they form an odd accommodation, a way to survive that satisfies them both.
Under the stars she never saw, she feels the cold of a desert night. Like kittens curled against the darkness their fur keeps her warm, and both within and without her head she hears the tales that Kaara carries with her. Of a people bound to a planet that was slowly consuming them, a constant battle for control in the face of entropy.
So many stories, myths and legends, histories and facts. Fading like a whisper on the wind, as incomprehensible as a howl in the night. Never spoken or shared, but she carries them all within her. Carrying a tiny part of the planet with her always, part of her always belonging to it, and to Kaara in return. Often a forgotten part of her, but no less important as she travels on through time and her life. The shadow and steel of the place, there when she needs it.
And sometimes she dreams.