The Foundling [Dathomir]

[Mesh’la]

Sometimes, at night, she could still hear them screaming.

The cool air of a spring night after the rain brought a specific sense memory back, feelings more than dreams as she slept. Small, terrified faces, weapons flashing, and the blood... body parts strewn on a road...

Mesh'la woke with a start, drenched in sweat, her blankets wrapped awkwardly around her. The smell of rain was heavy in the air as she threw herself from her bed and out into the night.

She needed air.

Once outside the rain doused her, pouring over the settlement of the Clan of the Undead Fires, running down the paths and puddling in the rancor pens. Mesh'la stood still, letting the water run down her face as she concentrated on breathing.

Her heart slowed, returning to a normal rhythm as the rain pattered to the ground around her.