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"The Force flows through us, from us, and around us. But most importantly it flows between** us."**

~Unknown Jedi Master

"In the past, Padawans were assigned to a single Master. Years of training would follow, often from adolescence, in which the two would work together, serve together, fight together and, as was sadly common during times of war, die together. The expectations of these students is difficult to measure- more often than not, they were expected to keep up with those who far outclassed them. It was said by even the venerated Grand Master Yoda, that the stage of the Padawan was in many ways the most difficult periods in a Jedi's life."

Jedi Master Luke Skywalker paused for a moment, letting it sink in among the students, all twenty of whom were standing at attention, hanging onto Skywalker's every word. He managed to prevent his modest smile from breaking into a humored grin, struggling not to laugh- it was almost comical how eager they were, these new students to the Praxeum, with how rigid they stood and how stony-faced they were trying to be, some even scowling. At the very least, the children among them were less serious, though still rigid.

He continued. "That was in the past, when there were a little more than ten thousand Jedi within the Jedi Order, and there were enough experienced Masters to take on new apprentices; a time when people did not come to the Order- but instead the Order came to those sensitive to the Force, taking them by law to become devoted to the Light. They would often be separated from their families permanently, some never knowing their own parents."

Some students glanced at each other- Luke could feel the stirrings of discontent, but it didn't matter. "This is not how the Praxeum here will function." He maintained a calm, reassuring smile, feeling the tension flow away with these words. "All who come here are free to leave- and return- whenever they wish. They will not be forced to sever ties with those they love in order to remain here. Attendance here will be strictly voluntary, though I encourage you to stay if you wish to maintain a consistent tutelage. It is my express hope that while you are here, you will gain a better understanding of your abilities, a drive for self-improvement, and a resource with which to draw both goals and friends."

A warm glow, if it could be called warm, enveloped the atmosphere to those who could detect the lack of tension among the students- at least in most places. Luke's blue eyes flitted to the western side of the ceremonial hall, falling upon a short, female feline humanoid, golden-furred with bright blue eyes and blonde hair in what seemed to be a simple noble's hairstyle and wearing what appeared to be traditional Jedi attire, whose disciplined stance had not changed; and it was here the head Jedi Master could feel a slight crispness. There was always one, it seemed- one new student eager to prove him or herself, and who seemed to think a serious mind was the rational course of doing this.

He returned his attention to the rest of the attendees. "To that end, we will be assigning students to a Master. In the past, Jedi Knights would select a Padawan based on what they knew and could offer to the student's instruction. We unfortunately do not have that same convenience with so few of us still. As a result, we will need to assign multiple students to one Master- and I would ask that you do your best to remain civil and friendly to both your fellow trainee and trainer."

He turned now to his left, indicating the row of Jedi Masters and Knights standing off to the side, a mix of some of his first students in addition to some of their first students. By now, the Praxeum on Yavin IV had some 500 members and 50 instructors- Corran Horn, Tionne, Kyle Katarn, and even Kyle's star pupil, Jaden Korr- it would be his first time instructing others, though he would be mostly be handling the children. Some of these Masters smiled warmly and waved in greeting, though Luke noted with some slight dismay that a few, like the Trandoshan instructor Moarn, merely nodded coldly.

He turned back to the students. "For now, I would be glad to answer any questions you might have- if there are any concerns afterwards, don't hesitate to seek me or another Master out. Anyone?"

There was a brief bit of murmuring among the students before one of the younger pupils raise her hand, a Human Corellian if her hairstyle, bomber jacket and relaxed posture were any indication. "What is the curriculum going to be like? Hours of reading and studying, or meditating?"

Luke did allow himself to grin now, and a couple of the Masters actually chuckled. "You won't need to worry, if that's not the way you'd rather learn. While the Academy here does possess a reasonable amount of reading material and study consoles linked to the Republic's historical database, we prefer a more... 'hands-on' approach to teaching and learning."

He turned his attention to all present. "Many of you are adults, capable of skills beyond the simple applications of the Force. I've no doubt that you already possess considerable skillsets that can be applied to the kind of work we take on here, and you are certainly free to utilize those skills while you're in the field. At the same time, however, you will be taught deeper applications of the Force- techniques both in and out of combat which will allow you to supplement, augment or refine those skills." He gestured to the Corellian student. "You, I take it, are a pilot by trade?" She nodded, smiling proudly. "There are tasks the Republic requests from us that require skilled commercial and combat pilots- and it is hoped that you will supplement that skill with your Jedi training."

"That said, there _will_be formal classes that will need to be attended, in order to gauge your progress and aid in developing other skills that might be useful. Nevertheless, I encourage, more than anything, that the students here work with their Masters and fellow students to develop their own training regimen."

Luke paused again. "It was said of the old Jedi Order that there was only one true path to understanding the Force, such that it became shaped into a tradition. Not only is that tradition unfeasible with our fewer numbers, but... it is my belief that there is not simply one way to understand the Force. It manifests in different ways, for different people and different cultures. I would not obstruct any path that leads to a better understanding of the Force- within reason. Obviously, deliberately injuring students will not be tolerated, and dishonesty and theft will be met with counsel to determine disciplinary action- remember that our actions determine how the universe at large sees us."

He looked around. "Any other questions?"

The female feline, who Luke was almost certain was either a Cathar or Trianii, raised her paw. "What is the Academy's policy on lightsabers that we have brought ourselves, and what will we be taught as far as combat is concerned?" She spoke clearly and quickly, as if she were part of a military unit, which struck Luke as odd.

"Those who come here with a lightsaber in their possession are welcome to keep them if they wish- though I have found that constructing a lightsaber of your own tends to yield more satisfying results. Instruction on unarmed combat and five of the seven lightsaber forms, starting with Shii-Cho, will be handled by our Battlemaster, Kyle Katarn- please refer to him as Kyle, he keeps telling me to tell our new students he dislikes titles- and Master Kam Solusar. They are currently our finest duelists, though they are more than happy to instruct students on the use of other weapons."

The felinoid frowned. "Other weapons?"

"Blaster weapons, for example."

The felinoid hissed out a scoffing noise, turning her eyes away briefly, before raising her head again in a disciplined posture, though there was now a coolness in her eyes, as if scornful of the idea.

Luke shrugged, addressing the rest of the students. "Blaster weaponry in the Jedi Order is not unheard of, though it is true it was uncommon. Prior to the Jedi Purge, the Temple on Coruscant trained Jedi Snipers, and there were those of both the Guardian and Sentinel paths who utilized ranged weapons." He smiled wryly. "Although one of my mentors did consider their use to be 'uncivilized', but it's one of the few points I disagreed with him on."

"Anything else?" There was no reply, and a couple of students seemed to shake their heads. "Very well then. I'm sure you're very eager to get started, so now let's decide who you'll be paired with." He strode up to the felinoid, smiling warmly- a smile that was not returned, Luke noted with some dismay. "You're name is Syrra, correct?"

She nodded curtly. "Yes, Master."

"I've decided to pair you with Master Moarn. He is one of our recent additions, a survivor of the Jedi Purge, and he will focus on more formal training." He turned to the individual next to Syrra, a dark-skinned, raven-haired human male. "And Garrett, correct?"

The human seemed eager to please, or anxious to learn, but certainly happy to be where he was. "Yessir!"

"I'll also be assigning you to Moarn, along with Syrra. Be civil to each other and your Master, and be willing to learn- and I'm sure you'll do fine here." He reached out, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. Garrett smiled and thanked the Jedi Master in response- Syrra, meanwhile, seemed to tense up at the touch, though she did not react in any significant way.

Once Luke had left to divide the rest of the students up, Garrett turned to his new fellow student. "So! This place is pretty great so far, huh?"

Syrra dispensed with her at-attention stance, crossing her arms and staring after Skywalker. "I suppose. Not exactly what I was expecting, to be honest."

Garrett glanced at the Masters, watching as Moarn approached them. "Why, what were you expecting? More robes and old people?"

Syrra frowned at the human. "I'm sorry... Garrett, was it?" He nodded. "I'm sure Master Skywalker means well- but he seems nothing like the Jedi Masters of old, before the Clone Wars. My family usually had at least one Force-Sensitive child each generation, we know what the Jedi Order was like back then."

Garrett shrugged. "That was back then- maybe he's got a point doing things differently, now that there's so few of us? And I guess it's not like there's a problem in doing things a bit different since most of us aren't children."

Syrra turned to reply, but was cut short by a deep hissing voice. Master Moarn stood before them, the reptilian Jedi looking stone-faced and serious. "It's true Master Skywalker's way of instruction is... unorthodox. Certainly not perfect. Nevertheless, he is still a skilled Jedi who is worthy of the rank of Grand Master, and you would do well to heed his instruction- and mine. I shall be training the both of you, and I warn you that while you are under my tutelage, you are expected to show discipline and respect. How you spend your time away from my tutelage is yours to decide, but while you're with me you are to follow my instructions closely. Are we clear?"

Both students nodded, and Syrra even managed a small smile- here, it seemed, was someone she could trust to give her a more pragmatic education in the coming weeks.

A deep rumble shook through the skies of Yavin IV, the normally visible red gas giant of Yavin hidden behind a thick wall of dark clouds. A flash of light and a sharp crack rang through the air- but no lightning tore through the sky, though as the rumble receded a low hum could be heard within the air.

Syrra held her deep blue energy blade at the ready, pacing up the length of the maze she was in slowly. Her eyes glanced to her left as she moved past a fallen wall, shuffling past the ruins as she sought to keep her footing steady, eyes turning side to side, trying to detect any sound. A jolt of irritability shot through her as rain began to fall, drops of precipitation hissing slightly as they landed on the weapon's deadly edge. It would be harder now to detect her target.

There was a slightly different hiss.

With uncanny reflexes, Syrra darted forward and ducked low, narrowly dodging the first energy bolt to be fired. The small probe droid was up ahead, low to the ground and nearly obscured by the weeds growing at the ruined corridor's corners, but now revealed to the felinoid student. A rush of feeling, a moment of insight- whether she could see it or not, she could sense what came next. The next shot rang out, and she leapt.

She sailed above the bolt easily, flipping through the air with all the agility and grace of a Trianii Ranger, trained in body and mind- and now training in the Force. She landed easily before the construct and swept her weapon up, cleaving the device in two. Another moment of insight- she whipped around and knelt, lifting her weapon in a guard above her right breast, just in time to intercept the bolt from a second remote droid.

She growled impatiently, watching as the bolt was not returned to its sender, instead popping against the bricks of the fallen wall. She stood once more and strode forward towards the remote as it began to hover back from her reach, continuing to fire. Two more successful deflections, followed, each low-energy bolt burst harmlessly against the ruined stonework.

Her foot snagged against a loose stone. Her concentration faltered.

"FUCK!!!"

Syrra snarled, lightsaber falling from her grip as pain lanced up her right arm, the remote having scored a hit on her wrist. She glared daggers at the damnable droid and reached out, her left paw clenching as if trying to crush an invisible stone. The remote froze in the air, trying to reorient itself for another attack- another bolt fired, but far off target and unable to turn. For a moment nothing seemed to happen as it continued to hiss in the air, trying to move from its invisible restraints.

The next second, it's frame caved in rapidly, all circuitry within crushed as if the victim of a trash compactor. The droid ceased to move, smoking heavily from its crushed shell.

Syrra stood, shivering- the cold did not bother her, but it was clear to Moarn, standing above on a platform, that she was livid. His face was impassive, even as he called down to her.

"Padawan! Calm yourself now. There's nothing to be gained by raging against these remotes."

Syrra growled quietly, but complied, trying to center herself, glancing back at the ruined scrap. She breathed slower as she fought to keep her anger under control, dimly aware of Moarn jumping down into the ceiling-less hall she stood in, saying nothing as her anger started to ebb away.

Moarn was silent as he watched his Padawan calm herself, until her shaking subsided. "Better." He looked back to the smoking remains of the remote. "Tell me what you did wrong."

Syrra flinched, but minded herself. She hated being told what she did wrong- hated more when she was forced to admit it. "I... lost control."

"... Of?"

"My footing."

"... And?"

"... My emotions, Master." She grit her teeth, struggling to maintain her demeanor.

"Indeed. You surpassed my expectations getting through the first half of the maze easily. Not many are able to sense the hidden stone steps on their first try, and you demonstrated proper use of the Force by altering the environment to progress. You performed adequately through the second half, as well... up until this point."

Syrra nodded, her anger now slowly festering into shame. "I... apologize, Master Moarn."

Moarn shook his head. "You have not wronged me. Nor are you to feel shame for your performance or failures." He paused. "What is your age?"

"I'll be in my 20th rotation next month."

"And in your culture, this is considered adult?"

She said nothing for a moment, before shrugging curtly. "Young adult, more or less. Old enough to take a mate, young enough to have excuses not to."

Moarn nodded. "I see. I can say nothing of your culture in terms of maturity or reactions, they are meaningless to me and matter even less to citizens of the Republic. What matters is how you comport yourself as a Jedi, understood?" Syrra nodded and he continued. "You are here to learn, and that does entail making mistakes and rectifying them. Take this lesson to heart- anger, left unchecked, is a dangerous quality of the dark side. Moreover, it leads to decisions that can reflect poorly on the Order. There are quite enough politicians and star systems that distrust the Jedi without adding more due to the rage of a Padawan that cannot check her temper."

Syrra flinched again, and this time a trickle of anger did pour in, though she returned to breathing once more. "...Yes, Master Moarn. I will try to--"

"No. You will mind your temper, Padawan," the Trandoshan hissed, frowning. "You will either do this, or you will not be allowed progress until you have learned to do so. Understood?"

She took in a deep breath, closing her eyes and letting it out. "Yes, Master. I will work on keeping my temper in check."

"Very well." Moarn checked the sky. "A considerable storm is reported to approach. It would be best not to linger outdoors for long. You have the rest of the day and all of tomorrow to yourself." He fixed a hard stare at the Trianii. "I highly suggest you devote part of it towards centering yourself."

Syrra said nothing, but nodded solemnly, watching Moarn trod through the jungle back to the Temple. Once he was out of sight, she sighed, leaning back against the stone wall and sliding down it. She shivered once more, this time out of frustration than anger- yet another wrinkle in what was supposed to be an ideal future, she fumed to herself.

Her time at the academy so far has turned out less than ideal, she had admitted to herself. She had inwardly been excited to join, had plead to the yu'nar matriarchs to have her service to the Rangers cut short the moment she heard that a new Jedi Order had been formed- had her mother not been an influential member of the tribunal, she'd likely still be following patrols on Ekibo. Then she arrived and was immediately alerted to how few Jedi were present; later still that none of the Jedi Order prior to the Clone Wars were among them; and she was almost ready to leave once she understood how unorthodox Master Skywalker was- he was barely a Jedi, as far as she was concerned, though undoubtedly very powerful.

She might've left had it not been for Moarn- he was silent and critical, but also powerful in his own right, sensing that both his students had great potential. Moarn was a traditional instructor, and it was clear he knew what he was doing- the three months she'd been present she'd learned more than she had expected to learn about the history of the old Order, which Moarn apparently had some fondness for. She hung on to his every word, not out of reverence but respect. Garrett seemed receptive to his teachings as well, though less enthusiastic about the history lessons- either way, he seemed happy to be at the academy any other time, mostly idling about in the jungle and looking for wildlife, where he said he felt a connection to the Force.

He was a decent person she supposed, but not, as Master Skywalker had hoped, a friend. She could not see any source for his enthusiasm, and moreover felt like she was sorely out-of-place at the Praxeum. She seldom talked to others unless it was necessary- but she was used to this, having long stretches of silence while on patrol on Ekibo. This did nothing to keep her from feeling her isolation, though. And she alone, it seemed, could see how unorthodox Skywalker's lessons were, though she could not deny that they were effective enough in their own way.

All she had learned from the Jedi from her parents and living family, seemed to be missing from her tutelage. Perhaps that, more than anything, was what hurt the most- to be told of the past, expecting to see that greatness, and in the end having it replaced with a needless change. Perhaps that was the source of discomfort.

Perhaps she had made a mistake coming here.

A distant rumble murmured through the sky, and almost at the same moment, she felt a stirring within her. She groaned, shivering as physical need began to gnaw at her, her loins suddenly flushed with blood and desire. Of all the times for her to be assaulted by her biology, it had to be now? Shame filled her as she briefly considered what her Master would think, allowing herself to be afflicted by raw hormones. The idea of returning to the academy now was the last thing she wanted to consider- all manner of alien life forms with keener senses would likely notice her scent in the air, until she was out of it. And only one solution could end it.

She grit her teeth, vowing not to submit to that. She took in a deep breath, let half of it out. Surely she could take solace in the Force, immerse herself in meditation to cull her physical desire. Ignoring the moderate sensation of arousal with moderate difficulty, she closed her eyes, trying to drift away from the feeling, trying to find something to focus on. A distant howl brought inspiration to her.

Garrett had told her once that it brought him a sense of peace to focus less on the self and more on life around him. She was at least a mile from the Temple, out in the wilderness and away from any civilized population- it was not difficult for her to detect nearby life almost immediately, the jungle was teeming with it. Reaching out, she zeroed in on a beast, perhaps a few hundred meters away, near the banks of a river. A male, she sensed- one who had only just managed to secure prey from a hunt, and seemed to be rather proud of its skill, if she was interpreting the wild, almost joyous emotion it was emanating. What it was, she couldn't say, unfamiliar as she was with the moon's fauna, but it had a distinctly... canine quality to it, she supposed, sensing it loping on all fours back to its home.

It was moving farther away, though well within her ability to sense- she could almost make out the shape of a den, not far from a waterfall she'd once spotted while hiking. It was not long before she could sense the creature slink into the den- and almost immediately was greeted with positive emotion, another of its kind rushing to its side and displaying affection to it. His mate, Syrra realized with moderate interest, a small smile playing across her own muzzle as gentle flickers of warmth danced in her mind.

She "watched" as the pair nuzzled and licked at each other, their features indistinguishable but their intent and feelings clear. It was soothing, Syrra admitted, to see this kind of interaction between the two beasts, and certainly a fascinating experience. This was the first time she'd ever surveyed any other living being, though she was certain with better training she could become more effective at this kind of technique.

With a pang, however, she realized that she could still feel her arousal attacking at her body. And things only became worse a moment later. She later reflected that it was foolish to think the beasts would immediately consume their meal- even on her home-planet, not all predators feasted on their kills while fresh. And she should have recognized the signs of affection meaning something deeper, though she felt she could not have deciphered that behind those licks, nips and nuzzles was a strong desire to copulate.

The sight, or rather sensation of the male's member slipping free from its sheath was met with Syrra taking in a sharp breath as she realized her dire situation. This was not what she was expecting from her meditation, and yet... she did not halt. Her shock and slight repulsion was now being replaced with curiosity and intrigue, as the female now moved to tend to her mate. Syrra shivered as she "saw" the female take in the male's scent, her tail flagging up in response to her arousal as her muzzle met the male's length. With no reservation whatsoever, she lapped her tongue against the flesh, drawing ragged breathing from the male as it struggled to remain still, letting the female swirl her tongue around the tapered tip of his cock. Syrra could not taste what she tasted, nor smell what she smelled- she could only feel the carnal desire that could ever be felt from such an act, wanting more from the male.

It was several minutes of teasing the beasts turgid shaft before he obliged, the slick tool dripping heavily after the careful ministrations of the female- no, the bitch. After ensuring that her mate's prick was as hard as it would be, throbbing almost visibly to Syrra's senses, the bitch turned in place and raised her tail to offer her sweltering loins to the male, legs spread apart to draw his attention to her spade. Syrra became dimly aware that her position had changed, that she had moved onto her hands and knees unconsciously at some point, but her focus drifted away from her again as she saw the male begin to return the favor, his cock now drooling lewdly with precum. By the Force, Syrra thought, what the fuck is wrong with me?

She failed to answer as she chirped audibly, the sound having been forced out of her the same moment the male's tongue flicked against his mate's spade. Intentionally or not (and Syrra hoped desperately that she'd done it accidentally), she had begun to feel the female's physical sensations. Although well-aware she was not the canine beast some half-mile away, it mattered little as Syrra's mate began to happily lap at her cleft, slathering her hole with saliva. Syrra moaned quietly as her netherlips were attacked affectionately with the beast's tongue, shocks of hot pleasure rocking through her loins as she took on the bitch's role. Once the beast decided to probe between her lips and burrowed the tip into her well, she nearly screamed from the effect, her body having been sent into a single convulsion as she struggled to keep from orgasm. The bitch was almost certainly loving every sensation- and Syrra moaned pitifully as she felt a part of herself loving it too.

Before long he pulled away and she gasped for air, granted a slight reprieve from the carnal act. Logic demanded that she get out, that it was not helping her to remain within the bitch's mind. And yet, she lingered- for whatever reason, whether because she was too aroused to act properly or because she wanted to see it through, she lingered. Long enough for her to feel the weight of the male's upper body on her back as he mounted her, drawing a whimper from Syrra as his prick probed against her inner thighs, trying to slip in between her netherlips, the tip tracing along the folds of her snatch. It was far too close and it was far too late to do anything about it- all Syrra could do was experience it.

And want it.

He drove forward and found his mark, sank it all into her depths- this time, Syrra did scream, a strangled cry of bliss escaping her throat as the canid beast began to breed his mate, his hips beating against Syrra's backside sharply as he hilted her. She felt herself push back against him willingly, paws dug into the dirt as she kept herself upright, the bitch panting less from exertion and more from lust as her mate repeated the action, drawing his hips back and bucking forward once again, the force of the blow sending a shock through her body. She grit her teeth, not from pain, but trying to clear her head of the immense bliss clouding her senses. She possessed no mate, had not laid with a male of any species, much less her own- this was as close as had ever gotten to physical intimacy with another entity, an alien sensation that frightened and excited her. It was far different from pleasing herself.

She could not figure out how she could feel every centimeter of his prick lodged in her tunnel, nor how she could feel the beast's heartbeat as it throbbed deep inside her; but the moment he began to fuck her in earnest, she could care less about the hows. It became clear that she was now his bitch, the male embracing her close as he thrust wildly against her and bred her passionately. In the back of her mind she became aware of her real body, her actual voice, letting out incoherent moans, but these sensations were overshadowed quickly as her forelegs gave out and she found herself ass-up, legs spread apart, being speared repeatedly with canine dick.

The angle changed- now the beast was hammering into her fuckhole almost from above, pinning her upper body down with his forepaws, the bitch unable to do anything but be subjected to his blows. The moment her snatch was devoid of cock seemed to meld into the moment that cock returned to fill her- and each time it returned, she felt more full. It wasn't until she felt the thrusts slow down, the pressure against her netherlips, that she became aware of his significant knot; a physical feature she had heard of, but never seen. Although deprived of any position to see it, she could nevertheless absolutely feel it batter against her sensitive folds. She mewled pitifully, part of her dreading the outcome, but a far larger part close to begging for it, the part that made her quim quiver and squeeze around the beast's flesh.

Not that she had any say on what happened, once the beast became intent on a full tie. She cried out hard as he forced the knot hard against his bitch's sex, feral growling echoing in her ears. Any moment now, she was bound to feel it...

When it happened, she snapped back into reality, no longer stuck her her Force-induced trance. She was no longer sitting against the ruined walls, but on her back staring up at the cloudy, stormy sky; she was no longer in the bitch's mind- yet she still felt the knot sink deep into her cleft.

And though she was physically unmolested, she still screamed.

A long yowl erupted from her lips as she quaked with orgasm, the Trianii female not even bothering to stifle her cry. Her tunic was drawn up, one paw squeezing her left breast, while the other had three fingers buried up to her knuckles in her pussy, her pants having been pulled down to just above her knees. She felt a spreading warmth beneath her as she shivered into a post-sexual calmness, tears staining her face both from the shame of her submission and the euphoria it had delivered to her.

She curled up, trembling slightly as she struggled for breath, unable to prevent herself from purring quietly from the sensation of release. It was over. She'd lost control of her arousal- but at least it was over. She hiccuped trying to take a deep breath, tried again and succeeded, slowly returning to normal- or as normal as she _could_be after such an experience. She slipped her paw out from between her legs slowly, wincing slightly at the tingling tenderness as her digits left her, then the other from her breast, pulling her upper tunic back down into place.

She managed to find her strength just as she felt a droplet of rain smack against her nose, forcing herself back up onto unsteady feet. A chill ran through the air, made only worse by the cold perspiration still on her fur. She checked herself for any signs that she had submitted to physical release, and once she was satisfied there wasn't any, began to walk away.

She stopped short once she realized she was missing something, turning around to where she had been laying, a long thing cylinder on the ground. She strode forward, sighing quietly as she retrieved her lightsaber, returning it to her belt- inwardly, she felt hollow. She knew she should feel furious, but she was more embarrassed and penitent about what had just happened. Had this been the old Jedi Order, she doubted they would have allowed her to remain. The fact that she'd been so weak as to indulge not just in her own physical pleasure, but a beast's?

She doubted that even this institution was so tolerant.

When she finally arrived back to the Temple the worst of the storm had only just arrived, Syrra having managed to avoid anything more uncomfortable than mildly damp clothes- not that she wasn't still miserable. She made a beeline for the Temple commissary, her sexual arousal now replaced with physical hunger. She groaned as she saw Garrett approach her- she was in no mood to talk, but resigned herself to it anyway.

"Hey Syrra, I heard you did some training in the ruined maze- how'd it go?"

She said nothing for a moment, reaching for a tray before answering. "Fairly well. Master Moarn thinks so, at least."

"I was expecting you back earlier, wondered where you had gone to when Master Moarn returned without you." He cocked his head. "Are you okay? You look upset."

Syrra shook her head. "I'm fine. Just... had minor aggression issues towards the end. Master Moarn suggested I work on it, it's nothing."

Garrett seemed satisfied with the answer, shrugging. "I guess that would warrant some time alone. I was actually more worried that you might've run into a Brush Canid on the way back."

Syrra's ears perked up. "Brush Canid...?"

"Yeah. They get a little territorial this time of year. It's their mating season."

Syrra sighed, that hollow feeling within her feeling just a little emptier.

"You don't say..."