Nerrix

It felt wrong.

Tree branches whipped at her face as she ran blindly through the dense forest, the sound of her heaving breaths filling her ears in the relative silence that surrounded her. Even the animals had fled, and the usual ambient sounds of nature that had once provided solace and a sense of consistency, of the ongoing cycle of life, were absent.

She should go back.

Finally, aching joints and numb limbs began to fail her, and she stumbled over a thick root she had not noticed soon enough. Her lungs burned as she felt the ground rush up to meet her, and though she needed to get back to her feet and move, she simply couldn't go another step. She'd been running for hours, and even as she rolled over onto her side with a hoarse groan, her chest heaving for breath, it felt as though she was still in motion.

Master Runa lay dead miles behind her, she'd felt it. His last admonition had been for her to run.

It still felt wrong.

She should have stayed. She should have fought by his side. She could have---

A presence interrupted the thought. It was unfamiliar, yet somehow comforting in its intimacy – its closeness. It was as though the mind that touched hers understood exactly how she was feeling, had experienced the warring emotions, the heartache of losing her mentor – a man who had been as much father to her as teacher.

The presence quieted her mind, gave her a sense of peace, urged her to rest, assured her safety.

Nerrix's breathing slowed as she succumbed and sleep overtook her.