[spoiler]This is a repost, cause I have no idea where the old one is.[/spoiler] In the depth of the night, four eyes stared into the darkness, the dying embers of a fire providing the only light. They searched for movement, hardly hindered by the lack of light. They closed briefly, remembering, everything still just as clear, even days afterward. The rumble in the ground from heavy guns. The smell of smoke from burning buildings. The streaks of shock and wire fire flying through the air. The screams of the terrified and dying villagers. A soft whimpering stirred the watcher from his thoughts. He looked down at the small form bundled in a cloak. A human child, barely past her fifth winter, if he recalled. No doubt reliving the horrors she had seen, just as he had, if the way her eyes were scrunched up were any indication. The watcher reached out a hand, hesitating briefly, before running it through his charge's hair. He still was not used to this. He suspected it would be some time before he would even begin. Physical contact with another, to him, meant danger, a threat. To her, though, it meant comfort and love. So, for her, he would sigh and bear it, until he overcame his instincts, hard-won as they were. She relaxed at his touch, sighing softly as she snuggled back into the cloak. He considered how strange it must have looked, had a stranger happened upon them: a human child, resting calmly against the side of one who caused her people so much pain and sorrow. Even more so, considering how she had come into his care. Still stroking her hair softly, he looked at another of his hands. Fallen. That is what the humans called them. So few realized the history, the path his people had traveled, in order to gain such a moniker. Once more, the watcher looked down at his charge. Perhaps, though, he could change that. Perhaps, in this small, innocent soul, he could find his redemption.