He’s on solid ground again and better yet there’s open space just beyond these trees. He’s practically home and free back to the convoy as he breaks out of the shadows and into the clean white expanse-
It’s hard to process what just happened.
A shadow moving, looming in front and above. A guttural sudden snarl above and beyond the snarl of his engine. A bone-rattling shock to his chest, slamming the wind from his lungs as the ground drops away and he rises-
The pain registers afterward. Comes with the desperate gasping and the realization that he’s staring into four glowing blue eyes. A mighty three-fingered hand is wrapped around his throat, his feet kicking uselessly feet above the ground. The Fallen commander’s face is impossible to guess at behind its impassive helm. But it speaks to him, deep strange words not meant for human vocal chords, and he feels something like high contempt in them, or perhaps that’s just the way its eyes narrow to brilliant slits. Somewhere behind him is the struggling whine of his speeder’s engine, left upturned helplessly in the drifts. In the corner of his eye he glimpses other masks, other sets of eyes. All watching.
And then, as Josh kicks and gasps and struggles for his life, the Fallen lord turns. Away from the road. Toward the cliff he narrowly escaped. It roars something in his face, too loud to comprehend.
And he feels it as that powerful arm starts to fling him, and then that terrible grip lets go.
Beneath him there is only wind, and the freezing void.
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It’s hard to process what just happened.
A shadow moving, looming in front and above. A guttural sudden snarl above and beyond the snarl of his engine. A bone-rattling shock to his chest, slamming the wind from his lungs as the ground drops away and he rises-
The pain registers afterward. Comes with the desperate gasping and the realization that he’s staring into four glowing blue eyes. A mighty three-fingered hand is wrapped around his throat, his feet kicking uselessly feet above the ground. The Fallen commander’s face is impossible to guess at behind its impassive helm. But it speaks to him, deep strange words not meant for human vocal chords, and he feels something like high contempt in them, or perhaps that’s just the way its eyes narrow to brilliant slits. Somewhere behind him is the struggling whine of his speeder’s engine, left upturned helplessly in the drifts. In the corner of his eye he glimpses other masks, other sets of eyes. All watching.
And then, as Josh kicks and gasps and struggles for his life, the Fallen lord turns. Away from the road. Toward the cliff he narrowly escaped. It roars something in his face, too loud to comprehend.
And he feels it as that powerful arm starts to fling him, and then that terrible grip lets go.
Beneath him there is only wind, and the freezing void.
It’s going to be a very long way down.
The rocks are waiting for him.