In the 10,000 year war going on throughout the universe, there are too many who despise Zarkon's rule. But none will act on their hate, too scared of the consequences. The biggest rebelling force against the Galra to date are the Olympians. And thei...
The small girl stood in the center of the commander's hut, shivering out of both fear and cold. Her rags for clothing didn't protect her from the harsh winter of Olympia. She was malnourished, nothing but skin and bone, and every involuntary shake from the wind hurt. But she said nothing about her discomfort as she listened to the commander scold his line of soldiers.
Litarra shouted words that made no sense to her. But even if they did, she wasn't listening to them. Maybe if she moved around, warmth would return to her limbs. She started to sway on her feet, slightly lifting her feet and then placing them back down. But her small movements were doing nothing for her fleeing body heat.
The commander gave one last powerful shout in an alien language at the three men who stood unflinching in front of him. They all clicked their heels together in sync as his voice faded out. He was breathing heavily as he paced the dirt floor of the hut. His red cape followed on his heels. Trip's eyes followed it because it was the brightest thing in the room. And brightness was still so new to her.
A week ago she had never seen sunlight or felt the grass on her toes. Colors were just things her mother tried to describe to her but never got across. And this level of cold was something she had never felt.
For a moment she missed the small and compact cell she grew up in. When she was there, the slightest shiver from her meant her mother smothered her to keep her warm. She never minded being cold then, because mama never let it last enough to be uncomfortable.
Now she would die for one of her mother's warm hugs. Or for her mother to just be here. To see what her eyes looked like before death glazed them over.
"Trip," Litarra's strong voice made her realize she had gotten lost in her warm thoughts of her mother. She looked up at him and said nothing, still not sure how she was supposed to address him.
The soldiers had left, and now the hut was empty except for the two of them. One trained-to-kill soldier with thousands listening to his every command because he radiated power, and one small 6-year-old shivering the meat off her bones from the cold. And she was supposed to turn into him one day. She was supposed to be as powerful as him, if not more.
The commander approached her with heavy footsteps. She didn't back up despite how intimidating he looked. She knew he meant her no harm and was only worked up from whatever his men had done. He stopped in front of her and looked her small form over.
"Are you cold?" He asks her.
How much more obvious can she be about it? The shivering and teeth chattering gave it away. She nods her head.
"Good," he says while reaching up to the clip of his cape on his armor.
She scrunched her nose in confusion at his response. Was freezing part of some training she didn't know she was in?
He unclips his cape from his chest piece, swinging the heavy fabric around and draping it over Trip's body. It's so large compared to her that half of it dragged on the floor behind her. But Litarra didn't seem to mind that it would get dirty. He simply tied it together in front and pulled the edges towards her so it trapped her body heat inside of it. When it was secure and he was sure she would be warm soon, he looked down into her green eyes.
He uses two calloused and dirty fingers to gently pinch her cheek, "don't be afraid to admit when you're weak."
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