The first rays of dawn, however false, lighten the horizon. A perhaps unlikely figure approaches a stream in Osten Forest, stepping lightly over fallen logs. He looks a little like a blue centaur, except he has two extra eyes mounted on stalks atop his head, three slits instead of a nose, no mouth, long pointed ears, delicate arms with too many
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"You do this ritual every morning?"
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(The comment has been removed)
Dude. He is familiar with the term of address. «Yes, I am a "dude." I take it from your affect that you are unaccustomed to non-Earth species.»
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So, of course, he responded. Handily enough, he had something to occupy his time with.
“Why am I not surprised that you get up to this.”
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B'Elanna hadn't intended to interrupt him. She'd spent a large part of her childhood among the klingons and they valued honour - rituals and sacrifice and the way of the warrior - above everything else. But when he brought the blade round to his throat, she couldn't help herself.
Life in Taxon was difficult for all of them, but they'd find another, better way out soon. They had to.
"What are you doing?"
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