The fire shown softly against the dark engulfing veil of the night, only the
faint flicker of flame among its embers revealed the vitality it once held as it
burned brightly and fiercely earlier in the evening. Nestled there among the
rocks upon a crudely fashioned bed of pine boughs and grasses lay an old man.
He was dressed in a tattered grey robe that provided scant comfort from the
increasing damp chill that pervaded the surrounding night air, and in one hand
rested the shaft of a long gnarled black staff adorned by a light blue crystal,
while the other held his companion close to his chest.

Suddenly at the sound of a far off voice his companion became instantly alert,
it’s small eyes scanning the surrounding darkness, it’s lips pulled back
revealing razor sharp teeth as a low warning growl grew within it’s chest.

The old man awakened adding his eyes to those of his companion’s as he
whispered “Hush, hush ... it is only the wind” But the wind can deceive and the
old man realized that what he thought were whispers of a long ago time within
the realm of dreams was actually that of a voice he’d not heard for a very long
time, and a smile appeared upon his face as he realized a long lost friend had
returned.

“Welcome ...” he said to the darkness, timing his words and tone, “ at
present only I remain but perhaps others will come”


I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death
that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And
when it is gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear
has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
Litany against Fear from the Bene Gesserit rite, Frank Herbert's - DUNE











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