Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Like all things, it begins with a dream.

Something cold, something small, forces its way into her palms. It eats away at her hands and nearly tumbles out of her small fingers.

The little girl frowns, looking down at the object.

It’s shrouded in gold, an easy pinch to her eyes as light curls around it, growing like mold. Down the middle, there were small, silver lines, making the hair clip look longer than it was. Her little hands drew the metal closer, letting her gaze settle on it.

Above her, a soft but warm laugh falls, and the lap beneath her shakes gently. The girl blinks and looks up, her dark hair falling out of her eyes.

There is a light above her. It's bright, blinding. It hurts to look at. Enough to make her squint.

That is, until something moves, a shadow, slowly rolling to block the glare from her face, wrapping the girl in darkness.

It peers down at her, and the shadow smiles. She has thin eyes and thin brows, her hair pooling down over her, the same dark shade as the girl’s. Her eyes wore a similar gleam, and her lips were tight and pulled back.

The little girl stared up at her, a woman so pretty, so strong…so…

The woman lifted a hand, her nails threading through the girl's hair… She was gentle enough to lightly knock her head to the side, lulling her into a quiet contentedness.

But, after a few strokes, the lady tucked her hair away from her face. The strands chipped at the girl's shoulders as the woman’s palm slipped to her cheek and held her face…

She blinked slowly before muttering a soft word…

No, not a word, a name.

Sabine.

It echoed. Bouncing around invisible walls.

Echos that flew, that sharpen and strengthen. Echos that grow and cry, echoes that prod her—Nip at Sabine's sides, ears, nose, eyes. Words that jabbed into her skin, crawling like needles down her arms, eating away at her stomach. A nauseous, sickening feeling grew, and the woman's hand became hot.

Like fire, like flames melting into her skin. It burned, it scorched, and the girl—Sabine, scrambles away, dropping the pin and flinging herself from the woman’s lap. She collapses onto the floor, chest heaving as the words continue to strike her.

Tears start to brim her eyes, and she lets out a startling weep as the light pinches her gaze, no longer in the shadows. She squeezes them shut, but the light doesn’t give. It claws at her eyes, gnawing at her lids.

“Please…..” she mumbles, her voice squeaky. Quiet. “Please….stop.”

She hiccups, a wet feeling falling from her eyes. Small kisses, like rain, smooth the floor.

“Please…” She whispers, heart thudding against her ribs.

She pulls her arms in and leans forward, folding them under her eyes. Squeezing them shut, forcing the burning red into the cold vambraces around her arms.

Her hair falls around her, shielding and yet suffocating her, swaddling all the light above.

She lays there, a heap of limbs on the floor, letting the age of her armor pull her to the ground, struggling to bury her beneath the dirt.

She wept. She heaved. She sobbed.

The little girl cries, tears sliding off her painted beskar. Slipping down her arm, mellowing in the shadows.

She shook, limbs quivering like a loose arrow.

She wept. She heaved. She sobbed.

The little girl cries…

Because she can not cry anywhere else.

Dreams were made for tears.

And because of that… she pulls herself closer.

With a final croak, the helpless little girl cowers until the echoes devour her—Leaving all but her skin shriveled to the bone.

And then…

Then she woke up, and the tears were gone.

There were no tears, but that fact didn’t keep her heart quiet.

It rumbles inside her chest as her eyes crack open. The air was cold yet humid, a slight chill shifting within the small hut. The place itself wasn’t disorderly, but it wasn’t exactly organized either. It was a messy sort of display, where to others, nothing had a place, but to Ezra…Sabine bet he knew every inch of it.

She exhales and turns to lay on her back, relieving her shoulder of the overbearing pain of it having kneaded itself into the makeshift bed. Makeshift….but not in a bad way. It was coddled with blankets, warm fuzzy coats of animal hide, along with soft wrappings to support her head. It was far more comfortable than any bunk she’d ever had to sleep on; hell, it was better than the one back home.

Although the radio tower’s bedding had been a sore spot, Sabine hadn’t bothered to fix it. The bed at home wasn’t great, but the calming atmosphere had made up for it. A room filled with memories that she hadn’t quite experienced and could only imagine. A place where Ezra grew up alone, bearing the weight of the darkened abandoned place. A place Sabine had long spent hours cleaning up.

She exhales, letting her bare shoulders roll against the warming fluff. She’d taken off her armor before settling down, leaving her beskar in a pile in the corner.

It was dark out; that much was obvious by the layer of black around her, but through the noisy air, she could still see. Everything was blurry, outlined, masked in shadows.

Above her, a light fixture dangles, a lantern of sorts, although the shape was a bit odd, and the insides seemed bare. She figures it hadn’t been used in a long while.

Her thoughts wrinkled around her mind, the past few days and the past few hours racking her skull like a fist pelting into a wooden dummy. Everything. Everything that has happened, everything she’s done…All of it…

Ezra knew nothing of it…and there was no avoiding it. No, I'm not telling him. It was just a matter of when and how…. She’d have to figure it out later. But in the moment, she was too tired to think…

Something shifts beside her, enough to scratch her ears, making Sabine’s brows furrow. Slowly, she turns her head, cheek leaning against the blankets around her. Through the darkness, her eyes were quick to settle on a muted shape, something on the floor.

There was a pile of darkness around them, like blankets or sheets on top of their frame, but the softer shade of his skin revealed who it was. It was Ezra.

He’s sleeping soundly, quietly, a light snore slipping from his nose. His face is partly buried in the blankets, hair messily sprawled around his features. Eyelashes long, dauntingly thick over his cheeks. His scar is hidden beneath the sheets, exposing the left side of his face.

In the dark, the light creases of stress are gone, making him look calm and at peace. His lips are hidden beneath his beard, something so new and yet horribly comforting. Proving that despite the time that had escaped their fingers, at least they were alive.

At least they were breathing…

That was more than she could ask for.

She was still reeling in the fact that she was here. That he is here…

Ten..eleven years? Was that how long it’d been? Sabine blinks slowly, letting his features comfort her. And they did. Her heart slows, and her breaths even out, becoming quieter, more wispy, and—

He shifts again, and Sabine’s eyes snap to his face, and she feels unnecessarily tense. Too many thoughts, too many things occupying her mind.

She knew she was safe here, but the tension in her body didn’t feel like it. It was only Ezra…

She knew that, but still…

Old habits die hard, she supposes.

Her gaze lingers on him as he moaned, moving to wrap the blanket over his shoulders a little tighter.

Ezra makes another noise of satisfaction before settling down.

Sabine lays there flat on her back, her heart no longer still and instead thudding against her ribs. Her eyes are open, lashes fluttering, hiding the dark makeup over her lids. She tries to settle herself but after a moment and a slow, heating roll of her fingers over her chest, she lets her palm rest against her heart. Deep down, she knew it’d be a long time before she would be able to sleep again.

Sabine was tired, so tired, and yet…Her heart is racing, and her limbs are jittery with newfound energy. Maybe she needed to walk it off and get out for a little while. Maybe the cold air would scare it off, she didn’t know.

Either way, her thoughts were flying, slamming into her skull. Too many to keep count.

She needed air; she needs to breathe, and so Sabine sits up, the bed creaking slightly. She cringes, but Ezra doesn’t stir, and she takes that as an encouragement to continue.

With little struggle, she tiptoes around the dark objects scattering the room and makes for the door.

It was closed but not locked, so it caves easily, and before Sabine knew it, she was slipping out into the night. Her steps crunch against the pebble and gravel-ridden shore as she walks out into the night, the moon shining brilliantly above, streaking through the muddy clouds. Sabine inhales, smelling the salty, cold air.

A slight breeze brushes past her, and she crosses her arms to fight the chill, letting her steps carry her out towards the water. A lake streaked with white moonshine.

Sabine exhales, the thoughts slowly lessening with the nipping chill that makes her shake.

The choice, her decision, her actions, her desperation, her recklessness, her brashness, the map, Ahsoka….

Ezra…

They slowly flutter out, letting her guilt linger but not consume.

Guilt. It smears like a shadow filling the depths of her mind. It savors every anxious quiver of her stomach and embeds a nervous tick into her hand, making every thought ache and every unspoken word shrivel.

Ahsoka…Thrawn…

Sabine comes to a standstill on the ledge. Her lips fold, and she looks down. For a moment, she rocks with the wind, letting her hair tousl, before she stumbles back a step. The drop wasn’t far, but it doesn’t look inviting, especially with the waiting rocks below.

She lowers herself to the ground, fingers sliding into the rocky dirt, itching the dry grass. She sits before pulling her legs in and leaning forward. Sabine wraps her arms around her shins and drops her head onto her knees.

And then, once she holds herself, Sabine lets her eyes rest lightly, urging the shadows to leave her be.

She lets the cold air slither around her, pecking at her.

She’s wearing her long-sleeved jumper, but the fabric is thin and easily dismissed by the wind. Along with the breeze, her hair tangles, the short strands brushing off her forehead in a slow yet soothing way.

She lets out a loud breath, sighing into the air.

What was she going to do?

How was she supposed to tell him? Tell Ezra what had happened. What’s happened.. what she’s done…

What was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to tell him…

Just that... She ruined all chances of him—them being able to go home?

Her stomach clenches, and the guilt comes rolling in again, rhythmic like the tides, carving out her insides. She squeezes her eyes shut, holding her legs, forcing herself to become smaller.

They couldn’t go home.

Maybe she should have ripped the bacta patch off and just told him everything. Told him about Thrawn, about Ahsoka, about the mercenaries, about all of it, about the futility of going home…

But had she, would he still try? Would he show up at Thrawn’s doorstep and then simply… fight until he could no longer stand?

Would he hate her for not wanting to?

But... she’d seen the look in his eyes, the soft yet sharp, glassy shine of white ghosting over electric blue. The kind of blue that swirls about a hyperspace lane, a static electric feeling that fills her with warmth.

He wanted to go home.

And Sabine had soiled any chance of that.

Or at least the predicament—

“Sabine…?”

Her hands fall from her knees, legs sliding to the floor as she impulsively turns to look over her shoulder.

His sudden presence spooks her heart, leaving her already tense frame tenser. She knew who it was.

Even if it couldn’t be anyone else, she knew his voice well; although it had changed a bit, it was still Ezra.

He’s standing there behind her, wearing similar clothes to earlier, only fewer layers. The red overhang of his jacket dangles in the winds and whips behind him with a short burst.

Sabine stares for a moment, meeting his eyes. It was dark, and yet the blue almost seemed to glow. Perhaps it was the moon, or maybe they were lively in their own way.

She exhales and turns around, letting her palms bite into the gravel below her.

Ezra titters, and she feels the weight of the question before it even breaches his lips.

“What are you doing out here? Is…something wrong?”

Yes.

It’s a simple word; that’s all it takes. A quick and quiet yes to spiral them into the conversations and yet—

“No, just…” she blinks slowly, “—couldn’t sleep.”

Ezra lets out a soft noise, one of acknowledgment, and he moves, feet crunching over the ground. It left Sabine wondering how he’d manage to sneak up on her in the first place, or perhaps she’d really just been that lost in thought.

His footsteps seem hesitant, and he shifts forward slowly, giving Sabine time to tell him to leave. To go away.

She doesn’t.

He walks as if he is walking over shattered glass…

“Here..” he mumbles, voice dauntingly, yet comfortingly closer. But, before Sabine has the chance to register this, a heavy, thick blanket is draped over her shoulders. She draws her feet in, a hand subconsciously gripping the fabric, and as her head tilts back, and she meets his worried features. “Sorry…” he apologizes, “…you just…looked cold.”

His voice is warm, a slow, sleepy sound like honey rolling off his tongue.

The blanket itself isn’t heavy but welcoming, and the chill that’s suffocating her vanquishes.

She pulls it a little tighter and turns away from him, mumbling a soft thanks.

Ezra hums and lets go. He doesn’t leave, though. Instead, steps a foot or two to the side and settles down, crossing his legs in front of himself.

Sabine watches as his eyes search the rolling, moon-kissed lake. And after a moment, once he grew comfortable, he whistles.

“Pretty… isn’t it?” Ezra turns to look at her, and their eyes lock—an easy muddle of brown and blue melting together like a forging blade. There's a clash and yet a spark; something invisible flickers between them, easy and natural—inevitable tension.

His voice settles over her, and Sabine can’t stop her brows from furrowing as her lips pull in question, “Pretty?”

“Yeah…” He lets out a breathy laugh. Sabine can’t help but listen, the low rumble of his words, kindling the small thoughtless wonders of her mind, “You know, the moons on Lothal? They were always so blue, but here it’s more…grey?” He tilts his chin back, nose lifting into the wind. Sabine wonders if it had turned red from the cold…she couldn’t tell; it was too dark. “I don't know. It's different but nice.”

Sabine lets her head lull, cheek pressing into the thick of her pants. She watches the moon cascade down, rolling over the delicate curl of his face and the ridge of his nose. His hair, under the light, was littered with gray-like spots of fresh snow.

His lashes were thick and heavy over his cheeks. But it was in a soft, comfortable way so that as he blinks or looks up at the moon, the blues of his eyes stand out and reflect the sweet shine.

The sight made Sabine feel drunk. Drunk on the surreality of the moment. On the reality of Ezra and the way the sky illustrates him.

It was as if he was a collage of paint. His hair, made of charcoal, eyes of indigo. His skin, a coppery gold, reminiscing in the freshness of it all. The paper—the world—crinkles around him, and he has yet to soak into the page. He lays out to dry, to sear himself into a collection of unforgettable things…inking himself indefinitely into her memories.

And then he shifts, and the light pools around his cheek.

He was so different and yet not.

He was the same Ezra she remembers. He has the same overbearing smile that swallows half his face. He has the same nose and the same glint in his eyes when he gets excited over something.

It was all the same, and yet Sabine felt as if her heart was crumbling into a pile of ash.

Because this couldn’t be real…

There was no way this was meant to last.

His eyes never stray from the moon. Although Sabine suspects and assumes he knows she was looking at him. Perhaps he just felt as though she needed a moment to stare without judgment, without any sort of opinion.

“You know,” his lips quip beneath his scruffy beard, “I used to sit outside with my mom and watch the moon…I—” He shakes his head, “I don't know why I just remembered that…just, it was always so calm and pretty…kind of like this… but that was before the Empire really settled down on Lothal…” His words sink and fade, falling into the wind. “...Have you been there recently?”

Sabine's thoughts linger on his words, and she desperately tries to cling to the sound of his voice. Had she been there recently? She wants to laugh, to punch herself in the gut. Had she been there recently?

Ezra finally takes the chance and turns to look at her. There’s a soft understanding between them. There is no pressure to answer and yet the longing to hear one. Still, his easiness almost made her feel obligated to say something, as though it was as easy as breathing.

“Somewhat,” she answers quietly, lulling into the security of the quaint lie.

Ezra grins, not a sour or bitter-sweet one, but a full, loud smile that seems far too genuine for the hour.

“Well, you should watch the moon rise next time you go. I’ll join you if you want. There’s nothing else like it.”

Sabine nods, her eyes closing softly as she turns her head back toward the lake…

The moons on Lothal had always been a spectacle…and yet Sabine only knew them to make her feel alone. Always alone.

But, even she could admire their beauty.

“Yeah…” she mumbles, opening her eyes and looking up at the moon. Beside her, Ezra shifts at her words.

“What was that?”

“Huh?” She turns, and there's a beat of silence.

“I thought you said something.” He drawls, uncertainty crawling into his words.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh…” He nods, lips folding. Sabine can tell he wants to say more before he even opens his mouth. “Well….I hate to prod, but…I mean, just if there is something on your mind or—I’m here. I mean. So you can talk to me…I’ll listen to you.” He pauses, a temporary silence before he adds, “I always will, you know that, right?”

Sabine knows.

She always has…always will…

That didn’t mean she wants to, though, at least about those things…

She doesn’t want to talk about those things…

She frowned, “I don't really want to talk right now.”

“That’s fine, too.” He agrees, “But just so you know, the offer still stands anytime, anywhere… no matter what.”

Sabine feels her lips quirk ever so slightly. Because he truly was Ezra, wasn’t he? Every inch of him and more…it really was him.

She lets a smile gently tug at one side of her mouth, nothing big, but a smile regardless.

“No matter what?” She tests, and Ezra beams. It's so different from hers but in the best of ways.

“No matter what.” He reaffirms.

Sabine nods as the wind tosses her hair, leaving space to see the pale of her forehead.

She wasn’t tired; her eyes didn’t feel heavy, nor did her heart feel noticeably still. She looks at Ezra, and although he seems to almost always shake with energy, his shoulders are a bit sunken, and he seems tired.

“You should go to sleep.” She suggests, “I'm not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“That's okay… I don't mind.” He shrugs, dismissing the offer. He sneaks a glance at her, one she catches. He smirks, “Just try not to think so hard.”

She snorts, “I could say the same to you.”

He laughs. It’s not loud or quiet. It’s somewhere in the middle. Sabine wants to laugh with him.

She doesn’t. But she really wants to.

When his chuckles die down, he shakes his head, curls swaying with the motion. Curls….that was new…“I’m glad you're here. I can’t imagine it was easy.”

“It wasn’t.” She scoffs.

“Sorry to be such a burden,” He teases, and Sabine can’t help the way her gut clenches. “But seriously, thanks. You really didn’t have to.”

She grits her teeth, shaking her head. “I did.”

“I didn't ask—”

“I didn’t do it for you.” She turns on him, sending him a hard glare. Ezra doesn’t challenge her. Then she shifts, “Well… not entirely for you anyway.”

Ezra‘s brows furrow, “Who’d you do it for?”

Sabine feels her heart pitter, and she doesn’t know if it’s real or her imagination. Instead, she ignores the warmth filling her chest, “I think that’s a story for another time.”

Ezra doesn't press but smiles. “So secretive…”

“It makes life more interesting.”

“It does, doesn't it?”

“Yeah…” She drawls, letting the quiet crawl of the night shift by. Everyone else was asleep, all the lights turned off and quiet. Nothing but them…. It was only them….

And Sabine couldn’t understand why she was so…okay with that.

And suddenly, at that thought and the oddly comfortable and uncomfortable way her mind spun, she can’t stop his name from leaving her tongue.

“Ezra…?”

“Hm?” He hums so eagerly it’s as though he’d been waiting for her to say his name.

She doesn’t smile, and rather, her words sound more bittersweet than anything else.

“Thanks for not being dead.”

The wind rolls between them, and suddenly, it feels like they’re oceans apart.

And he can’t—-Sabine wouldn't let him bridge the gap. Because if he found out what she did….

“Of course.” Ezra’s words roll with the draft, lingering for a moment before they’re gone forever.

They sit in a numbing silence….

Why were words so fleeting?

Sabine had a stone for a stomach.

She’s queasy. A feeling she wants—needs—to get rid of. Her legs are jittery with nervousness, and every time she inhales, it feels like she’s trying to breathe in water. She shakes her head.

Her fingers itch.

She needs to walk around, and so she begins to push herself up onto her feet; being mindful of the blanket, she pulls it tighter around her shoulders. Ezra watches and begins to follow with a cautious, worried tone.

“I thought you said–?”

“I need to move around.” Sabine huffs. There’s no anger, just unrestfulness. “I hate sitting.”

Ezra nods, “I—right…” he fidgets like he wants to ask something, but he just hums, “Okay.”

Sabine gives him a tight pull of her lips before turning around, letting the blanket hug the warmth of her skin.

“I’ll be right back…” She steps away, letting the gap between them grow larger and larger until she hesitates. The air curls around her in an odd sort of way, sending a shiver down her spine—something cold. She needs to stretch her legs, but she’d be a fool to leave the camp without a weapon.

With a defeated sigh, she changes directions and returns to the hut, mindful of Ezra’s lingering gaze. The first thing she grabs is her belt and clips it on. She grabs her blasters and tucks them away, but when she looks back up, her gaze lingers over the lightsaber resting by her armor.

Ezra’s lightsaber…She needed to give that back to him, but she’d been so lost in the moment she’d forgotten about it completely.

Her hand slips forward, and she grabs it, hooking it onto her belt.

And that was that, but…somehow, she still felt unsatisfied.

It was the Mandalorian in her. Sure, she's ridiculous and paranoid, but that’s how she’s made it this far. Besides, she’s never regretted bringing more with her.

She turns to her armor and lets out a small sigh.

Sabine shuffles forward and begins pulling it on. She didn’t know how long she’d be out, but at this point, it would most likely be til dawn. Maybe she’d train to try and loosen her thoughts.

She just needed to let out the dread coiling in her stomach. It was making it impossible to sleep.

Clipping her last shoulder pad into place, she pulls the weathered cloak Thrawn had given her and drapes it over her shoulder before turning to take leave.

Ezra is still outside watching her as she exits.

“You're dressed…” he states obviously, only to fumble a moment later, “Wait, where are you—?”

“I’m going for a walk,” she interrupts, moving until she’s standing right before him. When they’re this close, she has to look up at him and…well, for the first time, it becomes blatantly clear he’s taller than her.

She doesn’t know what to make of that. Something about it hurt but somehow also felt right.

“You look like you're about to march into battle.” He makes a poor attempt at humor, and neither of them laugh.

Sabine just shrugs, “habit.”

And that was that. They stand in silence, and Sabine's lips pull as she turns and begins to walk away. Ezra lingers behind but doesn’t follow.

She’s thankful for it.

She needed to figure things out by herself, alone.

And yet…

Part of her…

Part of Sabine keeps her ears keen the further she gets, expecting him to follow. She waits for the crunch of his shoes or the wisp of his voice, soft and gentle, calling out to her…

But she doesn't hear anything.

All she hears is the grind of her own steps, the soft clank of the lightsaber on her belt, and the sharp howl of the wind.

“Shin.”

Her Master’s voice pinches her awake, and with little struggle, she gets to her feet.

“Yes, Master,” Her shawl falls over her back, tapping against her thighs as she places herself at the older man’s side. She looks up at him.

His face is clean of emotion, but she catches a glimpse of thought sparking behind his eyes.

“What is it?”

“Do you see that?” Shin turns, hair whipping about her face. The strands are dry and scratchy against her skin, but she doesn’t let it hinder her focus. She follows her Master’s gaze over the hilly terrain. The darkness left a shadow over the land. However, the moon slips through the clouds above, periodically letting starlight cascade down.

Off in the far distance was a chimney of gray. It bubbles like steam, lightly falling with the breeze. It was a ring of black clouds, smoke, something that would kindle from an open flame or one that had recently been exhausted. She thinks the latter most likely, considering it was dull and scattered, yet… a hint of it was there, lingering in the distance.

“Smoke.” She notes, letting her thoughts stifle. “Is it raiders?”

Baylan shakes his head, “Possibly.” A weight settles beneath his breath, weighing down the inevitability of this conversation. Something Shin could feel climaxing.

Shin leans a bit forward, the crystallization of her icy eyes embedding itself into the question. “Should I scout the land then?”

“It would be wise. “ He nods slowly, grinding his teeth. He frowns, and she perceives him to be hesitant. Reluctant, as though the words are stuck in his throat. But eventually, they do leave him, just in a more frigid nature than she expects. “The sooner your success is brought to Thrawn, the more reliable you become. It will serve you many advantages shall you stay with him.”

She blinks and turns to look out over the hills. Thrawn…Morgen… the names are still unfamiliar and yet somehow impactful. This man, Thrawn, seems to have a certain grip over them, like a hand continuously forcing them to their knees.

And yet… it isn’t his name that shakes her so much as it was the latter… “Stay with him?”

She faces him, her words feeling airy, as though she couldn’t quite cling to them.

“You’re leaving?”

A grim expression crosses his features, and he shifts, cape flicking behind him, “Your ambition drives you in one direction. My path lies in another.”

She wasn’t sure what to feel.

Her ears itch as if the words seem fraudulent, and her stomach ticks in unease…her heart…. pauses as though losing itself for a moment.

She didn’t know what that was supposed to mean.

“Your desires will be yours if you dedicate yourself to them. You are capable, Shin.” His words are firm, a testament, and read off like truth. “More than you know.”

The wind pulls at her hair, and something coils inside her, like a snake slithering around her limbs, tightening itself. Was he really leaving?

“But, what about you?” Her hard eyes flicker; starlight catches them, making them bristle with a mute sort of curiosity and concern. “What will you do?”

His brows furrow, and he seems as though the answer is made of glass. Shattered or fragile, it didn’t matter.

He inhales, “I will secure the future.”

Shin’s lips part slightly. She wants to say something, to ask him more questions about what this place was, why bring them here, and how this all came to be. Why leave her now and not before? Her thoughts spin, and she can’t make sense of any of them.

“I have taught you well.” He states it as if that one line could resolve the entirety of their past. “When you find Bridger and Wren, tell Thrawn and then deliver him the bodies.”

Shin was silent. Turning to look out at the smoke. It could be anything, and yet he seems so sure it was the two they were looking for. “You’re confident it’s them?”

He hums, “There's only one way to find out.”

Shin is unnerved by the response. Left with uncertainty and weariness. A feeling she rarely felt concerning her Master. It’d been a long while since she felt this way towards him. Her Master had been someone she could lean on, learn from, and follow, step after step.

He was the only one she trusted.

The one whose orders tied themselves around her neck.

And so, even in parting, in their destinies, she has to listen…is that not the simple truth?

But then…

Why did part of her not want to?

Something shifts behind her, and she turns, eyes finding the raiders down the hill. Most of them were sitting on rocks, running a rock to the end of their spears, filling the air with a sharp clang. Some were napping, although she couldn’t tell because of their helmets.

She stares for a moment, questions stirring….”And what of them?”

Her Master’s eyes fall over the red men… “Lead them how you wish,” He seems almost dismissive. “Their assistance will be of use.”

Shin nods, unsure of how that would go over with them. She didn’t understand them, and they didn’t understand her, but perhaps a little persuasion with the force would help…Her Master was never dramatic with his abilities, although the subtle twinge in the force had told her enough that he’d used it in some way.

But Shin wasn’t her Master…she wasn’t Baylan. She was his apprentice.

He shifts, and his shadow falls over her, swallowing her momentarily before he brushes past, walking to their howlers. The creatures were quiet, standing at angles, nibbling at the dirt, or maybe sniffing the floor for insects.

Her Master takes the reins of his mount and orders it to sit. He doesn’t waste time climbing on and settles as the howler rises from the ground again.

Her howler squirms for a minute before going back to searching the ground.

And with the cackle of metal reins and the stifle of the saddle, Shin finds her Master's gaze. It’s one that holds weight as it settles itself onto her shoulders.

He gives him a soft look, not caring but concerned…. Contemplative….
“I wish you luck.” He begins, and the wind spirals around her, leaving her in a wasting space. Shin nods, feeling something sour well up inside her. A feeling that feels odd and discomforting.

She wishes he’d say more, but it seems that is all. He pulls the reins, and the howler turns, beginning to descend down the hillside.

Shin watches, her legs feeling stuck, locked in place.

She watches as all she knows wanders away.

Slipping through her unclasped hands.

But… When he nearly reaches the bottom, he pauses, letting out a soft breath before maneuvering the dog-like creature around to look at her.

“One parting lesson, Shin.” He calls, and the sky bristles between them; his voice feels like needles honing her senses. “Impatience for victory will guarantee defeat.”

His words end like a cut, a slam, a stake through the heart. His words vanish, the wind tugging them away, spiraling into a woodwind-like howl.

The hills roll beneath them, the terrain not hard to navigate but foreign. Riding perched atop a howler, travel was quick, nearly effortless, as the creature seemed to know every right step. The hardest part was figuring out which path provided the most coverage because, say, she came across Bridger and Wren, it’d be best she kept to the shadows—allowing her more chance at success.

Despite her swift pace, the raiders were slow but not too far behind her in a line, zigzagging as they walked down the steeper bits of the land. She didn’t wait for them; they knew where she was going after pointing out the smokey column.

Her grip tightens around the reins, and she drives the creature forward. It huffs and clambers down another slope.

The animal's fur coat was coarse and tough, making her legs itch even through the fabric of her pants. The smell wasn’t much better either, as it was some combination of sweat and griminess, but she didn’t let it bother her, forcing herself to ignore it completely.

Instead, she honed her eyes on the stream of smoke, the one that was long gone but somehow lingered in her memories. It was just over the next hill, and then maybe she’d have some kind of vantage point to see what it was.

The howler climbs effortlessly; it was a bit rockier and left her a little shaky in the saddle.

Once they reach the peak, Shin orders the beast to stop, and it does, letting out a wet snort.

Her eyes settle over the horizon, and she’s met with nothing but shadows.

Sitting, Shin waits a long moment for the clouds to move, and when they do, starlight shimmers down over the land.

Quickly, the mercenary scans the ridge's edges and spies something small, or maybe big—no. It was a collection of oval-shaped rock-like structures. She thought at first it was just a few boulders until her eye caught the rustic shine along their tops.

They’re not rocks…

They’re pods.

Surrounding them, there were no lights, no nothing, leaving them to be more like balls of shadows. But she was close enough so that if she squints, she can see signs of life. Clothing lines and stomped-out fire pits. She can see small trails engraved into the ground and small poles sticking up into the dirt. It was clearly a small town, or grouping, a family even, of creatures that had settled down.

As she observes, the raiders finally climb up alongside her. But to her surprise, upon viewing the small village, they exclaim interest in the town. Shin couldn’t be sure exactly what that meant or said, only that they were furiously pointing toward it with excited little steps as if they’d somehow walked into a goldmine.

She frowns; perhaps these were the creatures the raiders were originally looking for, or at least one of them. And although that may have satisfied them, it didn’t satisfy her.

It wasn’t what she was looking for. She was about to dismiss it and move on; perhaps she’d find another clue that would leave her on the woman’s path or maybe not. All she knew was that time must not be wasted.

Shin begins to pull the howler away, an annoyed flicker filling her chest. Patience. She urged herself. Listen to him.

Her Master's words haunt her mind like hieroglyphics. Something to be seen, to be heard, but not understood.

Redirecting the dog, she turns once more to look at the raiders who have appeared to take further interest in the small village, crawling over the rocks to slink down the slope with as much stealth and ease as possible. Shin watches, biting the urge to call them to her side. Perhaps if she let them have their fix, then they’d come back more willing or more motivated. As far as she knew, they still sought vengeance…

She narrows her eyes. It also wouldn’t be hard to recall them with her lightsaber. They’d scurry to her side with little thought, overwhelmed by fear….

Patience…

Shin exhales. What would her Master do?

He’d let them go…they were helping her, weren’t they? But…why reward them before the task has been fulfilled? She sighs again, not wanting to stop them.

Patience. Maybe she was thinking about it all too much. She shook her head, clearing it of thoughts.

She had a job to do, and she’d get it done. She would. Like she always did.

That’s all it was. A game of fetch

She was the dog. They were her ball.

The howler steps on a rock, and it dislodges under its weight. The stone tumbles down the rocky side of the hill, clattering to an uneven beat. At the sound, the dog shifts unnaturally, and Shin has to grip the saddle to keep her balance.

After it straightens, she grounds, looking up into the field only to pause.

She doesn’t blink. Her eyes are open, wide, large, owlish. They were sharp and dense like frozen ice. The wind tugs at her hair; it flies in front of her gaze, but she doesn’t bat it away. She is still.

The air around her slips down her arms, and her chest dims, becoming quiet, each pound damning the next.

Because…

Out on the field of rock and grass, coated in the morning dew, a girl walks… a girl of a thin, short stature with close-cut hair, leaving enough to mess about in the air but not enough for it to drop past her ears.

In the dark, the colors were harder to grasp, but the silhouette was one Shin had seen before, one she found herself put against, weapons of light sizzling between them.

Her face was blank, teeth grinding behind shut lips.

The woman’s strides were slow and wandering, with no direction, no purpose. She hung her head as though in fear of the world around her.

Shin’s nose twitched. Something thick was in the air; it was cold, laminating itself to her skin, icing her breath. Something twists in her gut and teases her heart with adrenaline.

It was her.

Sabine Wren.

She thought perhaps it best to move, but with her back to the hillside, she figured she didn’t stand out much, especially with the softer shade of grey rock around her.

Her fingers tighten, knuckles white. That was her, but… only her…

There was no one else, no Bridger in sight. Shin tilts her head, watching the woman kick up a rock, seemingly frustrated.

She was to keep her Master's promise.

Patience….

She needed to focus, to concentrate on Wren. She was her target…and once she found Ezra Bridger, she would deliver their corpses to Thrawn.

But she needs her to find him first…

And when she did...

She would be victorious.

She would be…

Shin was confident in that, or at least she would have been if it weren’t for the sudden outroar from over the hill. A collection of warcries fills the air, suffocating the cold. And with it, the furious ambition of their song brews a voluminous heat as though invisible fire rages above their small army.

It‘s as though fire spills from their mouths, and loud clashes begin to stir off in the near distances. Shin couldn’t see what was happening; all she knew was the raiders were gone from sight. Alarming her, she turns her howler to seek out the lone silhouette and pauses.

Wren has her nose up turned as if trying to see the village from afar. She’s still, unmoving. Another second passes, another pitched wail strikes the air, and then she’s off. Running towards madness.

Shin’s knuckles burn.

Patience….She urges, but as the silhouette grows further and further away, and the butchered sound of screams riles the air, Shin sighs. Wren would take them out far too easily, and although she wasn’t obligated to help, she felt as though, somehow, it’d be wrong. As if the ghost of her Master's voice told her otherwise.

She could stall her… Just so that they had enough time to get their fixings…

But it wasn’t her responsibility. Whether they lived or not…she didn’t need them….although she might…

Grinding her teeth, the howler shifts uneasily, ears tightly pressed against the back of its head.

She needs to think, yet there was no time for it. Patience—She cowers. Because, alas, it would have to be a lesson for another day. And with a grueling sneer, Shin bares her teeth and whips the reins of her steed.