The Hyena Laughs

[Grand Moff Hissa]

((Oakley York continued from Duet))

Time passed.

Everything was very cold, and Oakley couldn't understand why. There was something that had happened, or that he was supposed to be doing. He couldn't remember what it was. There was some kind of pain or discomfort or pressure, but far away.

He couldn't hold onto any thoughts. There was... something. Something he'd lost track of. It was important, but he had no idea why. He had no idea what it was. Maybe he had to be awake for something? The position in which he was lying was vaguely uncomfortable, but moving felt impossible. There'd been something important. Had he slept through his alarm clock?

He'd been somewhere, with someone. The side of his head was wet. Had he knocked over a glass of water? There was something important. What was it? He couldn't muster the motivation to move. No, he couldn't muster the strength to move. There was a spike of brief alarm, but he forgot about it. There was something important. What was it?

Was it getting lighter? Oakley usually got up with the sun. Everything was very bright through his eyelids, but opening his eyes seemed like an impossible amount of effort. If it was day, why was it so cold? Why couldn't he wake up? There was something very important that he had to do, or that had happened. There was a lot of pressure on his head. No, that wasn't right. There was a lot of pressure in his head. Something sort of hurt, distantly, but not so much because everything was so cold.

Then he was moving, suddenly. Not far. Just turning, really. Also not of his own volition. There was a flash of black and grey, but maybe just his head being reoriented. Something was pawing at him. Something was digging in his pockets. Something was taken out of them.

There was a flash of alarm. His pockets were important. There was something important in there, that he'd put there. It had... something to do with the important thing outside of his grasp. What was it? He should ask, or make them stop.

He took a big, deep, rattling breath, not quite fully aware that it was different from the shallow, nearly imperceptible ones he'd been taking, and he tried to swat at who or whatever was playing this prank on him. He tried to tell them off. But he just wobbled his arm and gurgled.

Still, there was a yelp, followed by a faint thump. Silence followed for an indeterminate amount of time. He still couldn't remember the important thing. He was very tired. There was something he'd been doing, or worried about, but it felt far away. Something about pockets? Something important. Why was it so cold?

"I'm sorry," said a faint voice from a great distance, and Oakley had this flash of sudden clear anger that someone was waking him up, but it instantly faded as he began to drift off again. The voice continued but got quieter and quieter.

"I thought you were..."

The last words were inaudible.

Then it was a second later, or a long time. A bird was making noise.

There was something important. Oakley blinked but didn't see anything except white and grey. It was very cold. There was something about his pockets. He should get up. Was it morning already? There was a lot of pressure in his head. There was something he'd been trying to remember. Had someone just said something to him?

He should get up. He should at least move. The position he was in was uncomfortable, but not quite enough to get him to move. He should wiggle his toes or a finger.

It was cold. There'd been something important, but he couldn't remember what. Had something been happening? It seemed very light. Was it morning already?

((Oakley York continued in Just thought I would spice things up a bit.))