<... That's about how old I am. How old I should be. It's... my age gets complicated. ... But there's nothing you can do to spare us. We've seen people we care about be captured. We've killed, over and over and over again. We tell ourselves it doesn't matter because they're the enemy. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. We've been near death, we've been captured, we've been tortured ->

[His mental voice breaks off and he lets out a harsh cry. He'd be near tears if he could cry, but he can't. He won't.]

<It's... it's a war. These things happen. Especially when we have no one to show us how to fight. We fight the only way we can. We sneak around. We gather what knowledge we can. We become a thorn in their side, irritating them and drawing their resources until they can't manage it anymore. We have to hold out.>

[The Andalite fleet... maybe it'll show up. Maybe it won't. They have to act as if they never will, because better to plan for the long term than use up all their energy in the short term.]

<There's too much at stake.>