I was taken aback but looking at her she sounded and acted just like a younger version of her Mum so I listened to her as though she was her Mum. She ...ook me by the arm and led me over to a chair and she already had the hairbrush in her hand. I looked at her sitting on the chair with a teenage pout on her face looking all cross with her hands on her hips and when she told me to drop my trousers I did. She huffed and said ‘and your pants Dad’ and before I knew it she lent forward yanked my pants. The possibility that Gara might be dead, or the chance that rather than fight to the end she might let herself be debased and degraded, a plaything to those monsters. Human women are weak, but not Gara. She’d know her career, her life, her chance of breeding would be over if she were made slave. But then how do I explain the dreams? The stabbing pain… Could that have been? A man…? Not wounded… Oh Gods, no! Don’t let me imagine her like that. No! I must say something, anything. Grasping for a. More

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