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When Amilyn returned to her, Leia leveled her blaster and clutched a knife in her other hand. Crouching in the underbrush at the edge of the forest, she tracked the Amilyn-like figure through the blaster sights as it moved across the broad field. Morning still clung, cool and damp, to the forest, but out there, the heat was already coming to the fore. Several days' worth of stress and terror had reduced Leia to a clenched fist, or a taut bowstring. A cocked blaster. She quivered to act.
The thing was as tall as Amilyn, and every bit as willowy and graceful. It moved with a light step, too light for this planet's gravity. As it neared, Leia made out the twist to its neck as it looked around, how its long arms moved, just like Amilyn's. How something like hair lifted in the motion. How there were no eyes.
Chewie had burned up from the inside out; his eyes were the last to go. Before him, Lando had shifted and stretched, becoming an enormous, pulsing sheet, blown on the wind, a retina big enough to sail a small yacht.
She'd killed them, but they came back.
The no-longer-Amilyn paused as a breeze blew up, then died down. Under the bright light of two suns, it glowed. Incandescent, difficult now to look at straight-on, its radiance trembling ink-edged, it threw back its head and sang.
It was a flower, a storm of flowers whirling cyclonically around some central spine, keeping the shape of Amilyn. Its song spewed pollen, pink and mauve, lavender and bright bruise purple, into the empty sky. All the shades of Amilyn's hair and skin, now powdered, now petals, sifted down around the figure.
Leia shifted in her squat, re-aiming the blaster and re-balancing the knife.
She'd already killed five of the others. Their blood made her knife sticky; where it'd sunk into the ground, rusty shades had assembled and risen overnight. She'd cut them down, too. Dameron's shade moaned the longest, the most pitifully.
She was only the diplomatic envoy on this mission. That she was the sole survivor among a team of highly-skilled and experienced mercs and military types was a joke on the galactic scale.
"Leia," the column of flowers called, and extended an arm. Vines and blossoms spun in place. The breeze carried the fragrance of Leia's mother's gardens after the rains. "Join me. I miss you."
Leia missed her friends. She missed Amilyn, her cool hands and laughing mouth, long legs and whispering silks.
Around its waist, the flower-thing wore a loose sash, a dark vine laden with shiny fruit. Shaped like mouths, calling like songs, the fruit, too, reached for her.
"You took care of the others," not-Amilyn said. She was right in front of Leia now. She did not move forward so much as she re-placed herself from there to here. "Let me do the same for you."
It knelt now, eye-level with Leia. Its face was petals, thousands of them, moving across and beneath each other. Where its eyes should be were thumb-size depressions.
Its mouth was open and dark. A blade of grass peeked out, licked the edges as a tongue to lips, then disappeared. Leia felt its movement in the center of her palms, along her own lower lip, right in her groin.
"It's coming for you," Amilyn whispered. The twin spots where its eyes would have been enlarged and darkened. It knocked Leia down, sent her rolling into the grass, and sprang over her into the forest.
When she righted herself, Leia peered into the darkness of the forest. Yelps and whimpers, as well as the sound of large things tearing apart, shook the trees, loosening leaves like tears.
Leia tasted fruit, sweet and cloying, closing off her throat, when the quiet resumed and the flower-thing reappeared at her side. It plucked the blaster from her hand and stroked her cheek, her hair. It ran thorny fingers over her mouth, then inside.
"There are more," it told her. "We have to be careful."
"Go," Leia replied and swung the knife at the thing's long, beautiful neck.
She missed.
It sang, and fed her, and fed on her, and time tangled up in vines and accelerated fertilization. Soon she was naked, open to the sky, smeared with pollen and spore, juice and sap, and it was twisting inside her cunt and her mouth as she sang along, stabbing her knife into its breast, sucking the wounds clean, feasting and growing.
Its heart spilled out, fresh as a mango, sweeter, and Leia drank deep.
It loved her.