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March 12, 3019: Throw

Terror gripped Šuraš: before the soldiers' advance, she froze. Then Ihna'a screamed.

And help answered. A man barreled through the door, right into one soldier. Something flashed redly, and Šuraš remembered herself, thrust Ihna'a aside.

“Run!” A revelation, that voice.

“Brother?” Ba-a-šuvon's head snapped up.

Fatal recognition: a blade flashed; Ba-a-šuvon jerked, blood sprayed, and swifter than fear, his killer pinned Šuraš to the wall by the throat. Vision darkening, she struggled futilely...

'Til suddenly, his grip relaxed. Lifelessly he slumped; behind him stood Ihna'a, who fell against her gasping sister, dropping Ba-šu's knife. Legs buckled: they sat and wept.


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