Taryn gazed at the starry night sky. She looked into the infinite and found herself wanting more. At nineteen years, she knew only her home and the forest surrounding in. In theory she had travelled to the farthest edges of the galaxy, in practice however, her travels had taken her no more then a few kilometres from home. Hers was a life of isolation and of study, and of not much else.

“Taryn,” called the voice of her mentor, Master Lo. “A restless mind is not a restful one.”

The old Krevaaki stood in the door of their hut, lit by the glowing fire inside, motioning for her to join him.

“You have a long day tomorrow,” the old one reminded her. “You will need your sleep.”

She was about to protest, to argue that she didn't need sleep, but the old one was quick to cut her short.

“Meditation,” he added turning in to the hut, “is not sleep.”

Acquiescing to his logic, the young woman followed suit.



“Monkeys?”

The spacer, a human in his mid forties, balked.

“You want me to transport a bunch of monkeys?”

The man looked every part the rogue. His too-well trimmed stubble, devil make hair and nerf-hide bomber jacket bespoke a man very invested in looking as though he was very uninvested in what he looked like. Only his blaster, slung in a well worn holster low on his lip, roughed with the signs of use tagged him as something more then a braggart.

“Not monkeys,” countered an impish Toydarian. “Monks.”

“Monks?” The spacer redoubled his shock and awe. “That's worse!”

“Look Spanner, you don't have much of a choice.” Brimming, the Toydarian abandoned his scaled down desk and flapped up to eye level. “Do this job and you'll be legit. This is a mercy mission. Pro bono work.”

“I don't do pro bono!” Spanner growled. “Free is for suckers.”

“Not,” put the blue skinned flier, “any more. You do this and you're square with the Hutts.”

Spanner spun on his heel, pacing the length of the small office in two long strides.

He asked, “What do the Hutts care about a bunch of Monks?”

The Toydarian descended to his desk.

“Not that it's any of your business Spanner, but the Hutts take jobs too. This one comes down from some Senator wants to put a smile on the War. They're too close to the Reaver front. You're going to pull them out.”

Contemplating at length, Spanner assumed a deliberately thoughtful pose.

“This isn't an offer,” snapped the Toydarian.

Snapping his fingers, Spanner announced heroically, “I'll do it!”

He was quite convincing.



Taryn stood upon a grassy plain on a far distant planet.

The savannah stretched out around her in all directions, endlessly.

On the horizon, to the west, a storm was brewing. She could see the sky burst lightning and though she could not hear the thunder she knew, it would be here all too soon. Grassland predators ruled the eastern plains, hunting in the tall grass, while mountains blocked the northerly sky from sight all together. Looking to the south she saw the continent of deep, dark forest and it looked back at her.

Lo stood beside her, his robe flapping in the raising breeze.

“See how the wind blows across the grass, how it moves through it and creates waves,” directed the old one. “See the patterns it creates.”

She focused.

“What do you see?”

“I,” Taryn paused. “I see currents and cross-currents. I see how the wind shapes and reshapes itself.”

Master Lo studied his student at length, his Krevaaki eyes taking her in.

She was, he remarked to himself, a fine specimen. Physically, she was attractive and well proportioned yet also possessed of incredible strength and endurance. Her lithe figure spoke of dexterous athleticism. The old one was often amazed by the prowess contained within her one and a half meter frame. Taryn was furthermore blessed with what other humans would call a “cute” face which, to the old Krevaaki, had always seemed more unassuming then anything else. Though he favoured her with short hair, largely for hygiene sake, she preferred to keep it longer and so compromised, keeping her auburn hair tied in a neat tail.

“Do you remember when you came to me?”

She stumbled, momentarily off put by the sudden change of topic.

“Yes,” she stammered. “Um...”

The old one reminded her, “Focus.”

Closing her eyes, Taryn slowed her breathing. Inhaling, slowly, she counted backwards from ten before exhaling on a similar count. Her focus returned, she studied the gusting wind. She felt it moving through her hair and tugging and her robe. Using the force, she extended her awareness outward. Soon she and the wind were one.

A towering calm overcame her.

The voice of her mentor entered her consciousness.

“Do you remember when you came to me?”

She did.

“I was a child.”

“Not even six years,” Master Lo confirmed. “Do you remember your parents?”

In her minds eye swam two faces but they were vague and obscured. Try as she might, Taryn could not bring them in to focus. The harder she tried the more difficult it became until, after a moment, the images were gone all together. There were, or had been names associated with those faces, she knew, and they sat on the tip of her tongue impossible to dislodge.

Frustration began to affect her focus, a knot twisting at her stomach.

“Focus,” the sage voice reminded her. “Do you remember our first meeting?”

She smiled.

“I remember being happy to see you. I remember running to you.”

Taryn twitched visibly.

“I remember... being chased?” She was tentative, doubting herself. “Was I...”

A memory, like a slow motion holo capture, came to her. Taryn could see herself, as a child, running. The look on her face, the one she had taken to be one of blissful happiness, turned in to a terrified, twisted version of the face she remembered. Taryn stood upon the plain of her own memory watching the event play out. She could look to one side and see Master Lo, a younger being then, with arms wide open awaiting the child version of herself. To the other, what would have been behind her at the time, was nothing but a smeared collection of dark pastels; red hues mingled with browns and blacks.

Thunder clapped.

Her focus broke and Taryn opened her eyes to find herself sitting outside the hut. She was drenched in sweat and and her hair matted. Master Lo sat across from her.

“You did excellent,” he commended her. “You have always possessed a talent for astral projection and clarity of vision.”

“Your ability to transcend space and time is singular, Taryn. Always embrace it.”

The old one had being saying as much for as long as she could remember. He had taught her to control her force-blessed talent to project herself far beyond her own physical body and to see visions without physical limitation. She had seen images of the future, vestiges of the ancient past and could even perceive events taking place elsewhere in the galaxy. Her skills extended beyond the mystical, Master Lo had fashioned her in to an able combatant as well.

As though reading her thoughts, Master Lo finished her line of thinking, “Everything you have and everything you have become is nothing compared to what you can one day accomplish, Taryn. You have sacrificed much and in return you have the power to shape your own destiny and the destiny of others.”

“There is no emotion,” began the old one.

Taryn finished, “There is only peace.”

“There is no death...”

“... There is only the Force.”




Master Lo had snuck out of the hut. Though aged, his skills of stealth were still keen. Taryn had not noticed his escape.

Though he had raised her in isolation, free of the distraction that was other beings, the planet on which they lived was not entirely uninhabited. Some distance from their hut, far enough that Taryn could not have made the journey on foot unassisted, yet within the reach of a battered old skimmer he had secreted away was a monastery. The monastery was home to a group of monks devoted to an ancient and all but forgotten religion. The monks, like Master Lo, were also Krevaaki.

He entered the monastery and was greeted by the most senior monk.

“Master Lo,” the monk bowed. “You are most welcome.”

“And to you,” Lo did not name the monk, no could he. Their sect had abandoned names in the pursuit of purity.

“The man has arrived,” stated the monk. “He has a ship.”

Lo began walking with the monk.

“Will you leave?” He asked. “Where will you go?”

The monk was stoic, “We will not leave.”

“Will he try to make you go?” Lo knew the ways of politics. “Do you want me to intercede?”

“No,” the monk waved a limb. “We will find a common peace.”

“Will your human be travelling?”

Lo was quiet for a time as they wound their way through the monastery. It had been built some thousand years ago by an unknown culture and suited the monks perfectly. The monastery was, in every way, spartan. The walls were unpainted, raw brick. There were no adornments or inspired mouldings. This was not, Lo remarked to himself, an opulent sect.

“Yes. It is time for her to move on. I would make a request.”

“It is granted,” the monk answered without hearing the request, as was their way. “What do you require?”

“To stay,” Lo replied, “here, among the brothers for a time. I will not be accompanying Taryn off-world, it is time for her to break free. I was going to stay behind and keep the monastery... up. As you will be staying...”

“Of course,” the monk supplied. “Of course.”



Taryn felt like she should cry. A part of her, the child inside, wanted her to kick and scream.

Leaving home was never going to be easy, she knew. Despite her talent for seeing the future this was a moment that had evaded her. Master Lo had suggested that she was keeping it from herself, preventing herself from knowing when the moment would come or what it would feel like. She secretly believed it was Lo shielding himself from it.

The pilot was the first man she had seen since childhood, the first person she'd seen outside of Master Lo. In her studies she had seen many humans and aliens in holograms and in her visions but this man was her first, in the flesh. She was surprised. Not by the man, quite the contrary; she was surprised at how very not surprised she was. There had been almost no reaction. She'd watched him land his ship and felt nothing about it, watched him come down the ramp and felt nothing.

Perhaps, she realized, she was preoccupied with the idea of leaving home. Sight-seeing wasn't high on her list yet.

Master Lo, calm and quiet as always, only watched.

They had shared their words and embraced as peers and as friends. The time to part had come and it was a simple a thing as that.

Taryn was a Jedi, trained by a Jedi.

In her mind the words repeated, “There is no emotion, there is only peace.”

And so, without fanfare or grand event, she left her childhood home behind for a life among the stars.

Another rogue Jedi in a shattered galaxy.

Life aboard the spacers ship was, she found, tolerable.

Despite having lived her entire life thus far planet bound, her home an endless expanse of untamed nature, Taryn was taking quite well to space travel. Neither the claustrophobia her mentor had detailed nor the comparatively shoulder to shoulder living that cramped quarters brought were having any effect on her. She put that down to her Jedi training though she had not meditated or practices her breathing exercises. Watching the elongated lights of hyperspace shoot past the window of her cabin soothed her.

Taryn was going places.

Having been aboard the ship two days now, leaving her room only to fetch food or water, she had managed to avoid the majority of the crew which was to her estimation a good thing. She had yet to see a smile or friendly gesture. Something had soured their mood, it was palpable through the force. Her own social skills were hampered by her up-bringing and she could not bring herself to extend the olive branch of friendship.

Her modest belongings, little more then a sack containing her lightsaber, robes and a few other necessities were folded in to a pile at the foot of her bed.

Modest, she reflected, just like her.

She postulated, “This is no way for a Jedi to behave.”

Jedi were, according to her teachings, active participants in the affairs around them. They ingratiated themselves with others, they did not segregate themselves from the people around them. As a young girl she had trouble rationalizing this with Master Lo's method. If Jedi were supposed to be social beings, why had he chosen to raise her in solitude? When asked, Lo would only say that nothing in the Universe was perfect and that he was just doing the best he could. When the time came, he would add, the burden would be on her as a fully trained and equipped Jedi to bridge the gap between herself and the rest of the galaxy.

Master Lo's words came to her, “Everything in life is a trial. Living is a Jedi's final test.”

Resolved to a course of action Taryn stood beside her cot, fetched her cloak and stepped out of her quarters on to the main passenger deck.

“Watch it!”

A Dug, an impish fellow with long tendrils for moustaches, barked at her, “Coming through!”

The little creature was struggling to get a wood-bound crate down the narrow corridor. It was easily the size of the Dug and almost as wide as the hall. There was no where for Taryn to go but backwards. Eyeing the door to her quarters, she swallowed hard and started backing down the hall.

“I'm sorry,” she offered. “Can I help you with that?”

“Damn thing,” the Dug cursed and Taryn silently hoped it was directed at the crate. “Ain't gonna float itself now, is it?”

“It could.” Taryn drew in a breath. “Watch...”

Her calm focus came quickly to her. The part of her that, like the eye of a storm, remained forever calm washed over her. It was the force and she opened herself to it. Then, with a gesture, the ungainly box seemed to grow suddenly weightless in the arms of the Dug. His eyes opened wide, confusion marking his features.

“Hey,” he demanded. “What the...?”

And then the box was floating. Out of his hands entirely it drifted effortlessly towards Taryn who, keeping pace, back stepped in time. The Dug stood astounded.

It was a wonderful moment, but it didn't last.

Walking backward as she had been, Taryn failed to notice the lip at the end of the corridor. Her attention was so wrapped up in keeping the box afloat her extended senses did not warn her in time and she tripped accordingly. Tumbling backwards Taryn lost her focus. The box came crashing down, its contents scattering along the length of the hall and half burring the Dug in the process. Taryn meanwhile managed to catch herself falling with enough grace and dignity to avoid smashing her skull on the hard decking or scuffing her knees on the grating. It was too late for the crate.

The Dug spat and cursed in his native tongue. At least, Taryn assumed it was a curse given his enthusiasm.

“I'm sorry,” she offered again, regaining her feet. “I will clean this up...”

“Damn right you will,” the Dug agreed. He was having trouble extricating himself from the cargo which Taryn now realized was food stuffs, dry packed and dehydrated.

She offered to help him out of the mountain of tetra-packed supplies but he only waved her off, adding, “I don't need you busting me wide open as well, kid.”

That stung more then it should have.

Taryn was glad then when the Dug had finally managed to pull himself out of the mess as he then promptly stomped off. She doubted he would be back until she'd cleaned everything up or, if he did return in short order, it would be with the ships captain, Spanner, in tow. The man had seemed a bundle of angst and aggravation when she first met him and did not look forward to being shouted at. Some people took any excuse.

“You are a Jedi,” the voice of the old one reminded her. “You are luminous.”

His voice, the memory of his teachings coming to her from beyond time, beyond space, calmed her nerves. Her cool resolve that was the Jedi's strongest ally, returned. Where she had seen a disaster, the crate broken and its contents spilled, she could see opportunity; redemption. A thing that was once whole, she believed, could always be fixed.

She set about her work and as she worked she recited the Jedi's oath.

“Jedi are the guardians of peace.”

She breathed deep.

“Jedi use their powers for defence and protection.”

The words came to her easily as she worked and her work became meditation, “Jedi respect all life, in any form.”

“Jedi serve others for the good of the galaxy.”

“Jedi,” she placed the last package into the repaired crate, “seek to improve themselves through knowledge and through training.”

Taryn, pleased, allowed herself a moment of positive reflection for a job well done.

“Is that all true?”

She spun, the voice startling her, only to find the spacer rogue standing behind her.

“All that Jedi stuff,” he went on. “Is it true?”

She nodded.

“I'm sorry about the box...”

“Don't,” he cut her off. “Water under the bridge.”

She quirked a brow.

“It's an expression,” he explained. “Take a walk with me.”

The box, she gestured to it.

“Leave it,” he ordered.

So, they walked. For a long time Spanner was quiet, gathering his thoughts. This gave Taryn time to take in the ship which was, she noted, much larger then she had originally thought. Faces passed her by, those of the crew going about their business. She counted six new faces, added to those she had already seen, and guessed the crew to be about ten to twelve strong. The ship itself was a modified freighter sporting reinforced armour, gun blisters and quarters in place of a cargo hold. Taryn, curious about this, broke their silence.

“Why so many bunks?” She asked.

“Hmm?” Spanner seemed to miss the question.

Taryn repeated herself. “Why do you have so many beds, so many quarters?”

“The Reavers,” Spanner offered, by way of an explanation. Seeing her still confused expression, he went on, “Lots of people need rescue these days, from the Reavers or whatever. We go in and get 'em out.”

He explained, “There's good money in being a hero these days.”

Wincing, she surmised, “You profit from others misfortune?”

Spanner stopped dead in his tracks, turned and fixed Taryn with a thousand yard stare, “Look kiddo, I don't know what you think you know about the galaxy growing up with monks on a backwater world, but I help people and help ain't free. So what if I make a buck? I'm not hurting anyone.”

“No,” she agreed before adding under her breath, “you're just not doing as much as you could.”

He missed it, thankfully, and went on, “It's like you...”

“I get sent to rescue a bunch of damn holy men and what do I end up with? One kid and a bunch of books!”

Cautious not to give away too much about herself too easily, particularly in the company of a scoundrel such as Spanner, she quickly changed topic, “Books?”

“Yeah,” Spanner sighed as the resumed their walk. “The old mollusks wouldn't go, so they sent their library instead. Some hero that makes me, huh? Bringing home a bunch of books while the monks stay there, on the front lines.”

“Can I see them?” She asked, adding, “And is it really that bad out here?”

“The books? What do I care, knock yourself out,” Spanner waved a hand dismissively. He assumed she had been among the monks and so the books, he also assumed, were probably hers anyway. “And yeah kid, it's worse then bad.”

“The Reavers are a menace and they're not keeping to their borders.” Spanner was very up to date on galactic events. “So instead of the Dragun Empire we get raving zombies? Not a fair trade you ask me. And that's just the start of it...”

He fixed her with a sidelong stare, “Are you really a Jedi?”

“Yes,” Taryn nodded.

“Be careful out here kid, this ain't no galaxy for a Jedi any more.” In quick, point form he summarized the events on Coruscant and the Cree'Ar invasion. He told her about the fragmented Empire and the newly minted Republic and then he told her about the Cree'Ar demands, saying, “So you've gotta be careful. There's privateers, like me, netting up Jedi and Sith and whatever else they can to turn them over to the Cree in the hope that they can buy themselves a piece.”

“Like you?” Taryn fingered the hilt of her sabre beneath her cloak. “How's that?”

Spanner laughed, “You're safe with me kid.”

She doubted that but trusted herself.

“Anyway, the books are in the lower hold. Dinner is at eighteen thirty.”

He paused, clear that their paths were about to part for the time being and asked, “You're welcome to dine with me?”

She smiled.



In the lowest hold of the ship, stacked neatly and sealed against damage, the collected works of the monks sat quietly, stoically. Many of the tomes were ancient while others were much more recent. The penned works of their order had been preserved since its foundation. This was a point of extreme irony considering that primary among their edicts was the writ to abandon the past, ignore the future and live only in the present. As such many of the books and scrolls had not been read or opened since their writing.

As she worked her way through their archives Taryn started to believe that the monks, while not truly aligned with the force, were somehow in tune with it. They spoke of tolerance and temperance, wrote parables extolling the values of selflessness, of service to others. Of particular note were their allusions to a path of least resistance and that truth and peace could only be attained through the complete and total abandonment of self and ego.

They dappled, occasionally, in what could only be called the dark side. Though their sojourns to the dark side were few and far between they tended to impact the order deeply based on the writings around and following those periods. Fortunately their explorations in the dark were very, very limited and never was true evil embraced by any although those touched by the dark side carried its mark for the rest of their written lives. Taryn herself had been tempted by the darkness and knew how compelling it was but where the monks had been alone in their exploration she had a powerful mentor to guide her.

She wondered about Master Lo, what he was doing just then. The monks were lucky to have him and she would miss him. Though the galaxy was large, she hoped their paths would cross again soon. Her ambition to return home was tempered by her desire to see the galaxy, first hand, and become a part of it rather then just watching it go by.

Taryn thought this ironic, reading the monks texts, as they espoused the values “remaining small” as one monk had put it.

A line of particular note distinguished itself, reading it aloud she read back, “Always be a part of your surroundings.”

With dismay she realized that she had been avoiding that since her arrival on the ship and, outside of her conversation with Spanner, she might as well not have been there at all. The ships name escaped her, an oversight she knew, as a ships name was of importance to its captain and crew. The crew too was a mystery to her. She had seen their faces, heard their names, yet they were nothing more then a backdrop to her story. Inadvertently she had minimized those around her and enlarged herself.

Her eyes weary, Taryn closed the book she had been reading along with her eyes and ears. The world that was the cargo hold faded and was replaced by the force. She had never meditated during space flight let alone during a hyperspace jump and she found the feeling most jarring. Where her transitions to the astral plane had been smooth, welcome events back home here, amongst the stars, the change was sudden and overwhelming.

In the space between the stars she felt only darkness.

She wondered, was this how space-bound Jedi fell to the dark side so easily? The force connected her to all the life around her, but out here there was nothing but the open emptiness of space. Taryn struggled to find peace in it and the realization was slow to arrive. It was not the space between that played host to the dark side, it played host to something else, something dark.

Out of the nothing that was hyperspace came a face. It appeared with shocking abruptness, resolving in to sudden, painful clarity. The face was twisted, horrifyingly disfigured. It was a hybrid of man and machine twisted by some dark, ambivalent force. Flesh turned to steel and steel back to flesh in the space of a single face. Grime and blood gathered in the cracks and creases, caked on.

The face, roaring, swallowed her up.

Taryn sat upright, eyes bolting wide and with terror on her tongue she said, “Reavers...”

She found Spanner on the bridge.

Half the crew was present and mulling about without any real purpose or direction. She had caught them between shift changes. Those preparing to go off shift were ready to make for their bunks while the others settled in to their stations. Their mood was relax and this confused Taryn given the urgency of her vision. Scuttlebutt said they would be skirting in and out of Reaver territory on the return trip. It seemed safe to assume that their route currently had them outside Reaver space.

Spanner was first to note her arrival on the bridge.

“Jedi on the bridge,” he half-mocked her. “Just kidding, but you’re a little early for dinner.”

She was having none of his good humor and demanded, “Where are we?”

Met with blank stares from the crew she repeated herself.

“Are we in Reaver space?”

It was, she noted, ironic. She had yet to see a Reaver first hand or experience the result of their incursion. Her comprehension of the monsters was limited to rumor and speculation blended with what she could glean from her trips in to the astral yet she felt as though her fear was the only real one aboard ship. The crew, throughout their journey, had seemed dismissive of the Reaver threat and, outside of a few of Spanner comments, it was almost as if the Reavers didn’t exist. She could not tell if this was some sort of coping mechanism or if they had been in the thick too long. Either way, it confounded her.

“No,” Spanner offered. “We aren’t.”

He called up an image on the central holo-display. It was a star map, it was also a cluster of jumbled information. With a few more keystrokes on his console, Spanner reduced the image to a more simplified, three dimensional rendering of what spacers dubbed “local” space. A broken line carved the map in half, everything behind it tinted a dark shade of crimson. Well away from that line was what Taryn guessed was the ships icon.

“We’re a good four light years from the outermost edge of their territory.” Spanner stroked his chin thoughtfully. “We keep our maps as up to date as possible, everyone does out here. Since the outbreak it’s been pretty standard practice. The buggers ain’t attacked out this far yet and probably won’t if the Defense Fleet does its business.”

And then he asked, curious, “Why?”

Taryn swallowed.

“I had a vision and I think we’re about to be…”

As if to finish her thought, the ships alarms blared and someone shouted, “Reavers!”




Taryn’s head throbbed. It hurt. A lot.

She struggled to remember what happened but it hurt to think. When she tried to open her eyes she was met with blinding, white pain. Her mouth was dry and there was a considerable pain in her shoulder. Her body ached all over. Alarmed by her state she redoubled her efforts.

“Quiet,” spoke a soft, familiar voice. “You must relax.”

Her lips fought to shape the words, “Master Lo?”

But nothing came out. She was parched.

In answer to her thirst something cold and wet passed her lips. Too sore to swallow, Taryn relaxed and let the water run down her throat.

“You should be dead,” the voice offered. “You saved us.”

Slowly she began to remember what happened.

She had been on the bridge when the attack came. It was so brutal and so sudden the crew had no time to react. Something solid struck the ship with such force it overwhelmed the inertial compensators and threw the crew about. Her head hit something, hard. The world went dark for a long time. That explained her head, she thought. She was being carried, Spanner had her on his back. He was running. Taryn had told him to put her down, that she was okay and it was just a bump on the head. The ship, he had shouted over the roar of the klaxons and the sound of gunfire and venting atmosphere, was lost. They needed to reach the escape pods.

“What about the cargo?” She had asked.

“I dumped it,” he snapped back, clearly upset that her focus was on the books. “And if you want to come back and get them some day that’s fine by me. This way!”

Another explosion had rocked the ship and then there they were. Reavers…

They had stood between the crew and safe evacuation. The infection was already spreading. Time limited, they couldn’t afford to deal with the Reavers. It was then that something had changed inside of her. She saw the crew, people she had hardly known, for the first time… not as obstacles to be overcome, but as charges to be protected. She was a Jedi and where they were weak, she was strong.

Taryn had thrown herself at the creatures, saber flaming crimson in hand. Their combat was brief but devastating. She attacked the Reavers with such ferocity, a mother Corellian Sand-Panther could not match. Their flesh, bonded with metal, flayed easily. Her saber cut through them with such ease and speed she had felt her confidence brimming. And then, as the last Reaver fell, something happened. Taryn, caught up in the moment of her first real combat, forgot herself.

A pain, sharp and sudden, had torn through the meat of her shoulder. Something had caught her unaware.

It was, she recalled, a Reaver.

She had collapsed, unconscious.

“Where…” her voice cracked.

“Safe,” offered the voice. “You rest now.”

“You saved us all.”

She awoke again to the smell of smoke. It was sweet and familiar like the smell of home, not acrid like the smoke aboard Spanner ship, during the attack. Wood smoke filled her nostrils.

Taryn, roused from unconsciousness, blinked her eyes open and attempted to sit up. The world swam, darkness tugging at the edge of her vision.

“Lay back down,” someone was telling her, a man.

“Spanner,” she guessed, groggily. “Is that you?”

Her vision cleared.

They were in a wood, a small clearing atop a rolling rise in some unrecognizable forrest. It was dark. Taryn could not tell how late the hour was and, she realized, it probably would not matter anyway. A fire crackled nearby. The stars looked down on her, peering suspiciously at the young Jedi woman through a break in the trees.

Spanner was at her side. His expression, difficult to read, was somewhere between concern for her well being and something else, fear perhaps.

She asked, “Where are we?”

The spacer shrugged.

“Don't know,” he said, “but we aren't out of the woods yet.”

Taryn blinked and after a moment Spanner added, “No pun intended.”

Relying on her Jedi training, Taryn was recovering quickly when it dawned on her that aside from Spanner, they were alone.

“Reavers?”

Spanner shrugged, “Don't know.”

“And the crew,” Taryn asked, standing. “Where's the rest of the crew?”

“Don't know,” he put, simply and finally. Sensing that Taryn was ready to move, Spanner stood and moved over to his fire. “We can't stay here. We have to keep moving. They're out there.”

“The Reavers?” Taryn looked herself over, patting her pockets and belt. Her lightsaber was still there, tucked in its pouch. She had a few other supplies as well, but not for wilderness survival. “We didn't loose them in space?”

Wearing a deeply creased frown, Spanner locked eyes with Taryn.

“We lost them,” he emphasized the last word. “But we picked up something else.”

Spanner, kicking out the small fire with his boot, began patting at his own pockets.

“The damage was pretty bad, but when the Reavers boarded us, it was too late. You almost stopped them, saved most of the crew too.”

From inside one of his pockets, Spanner produced a cylinder. He tossed it to Taryn, remarking, “The battery is fully charged.”

She examined it. It was an emergency torch.

“From the escape pod,” Spanner informed her. “We thought you'd stopped them, but more were aboard... Had to make a break for the escape pods.”

Taryn, scanning the woods, could have surmised the rest though Spanner went on just the same.

“They, the crew that is, covered our retreat. They...”

Despite herself, tears gathered at the edges of her eyes. In the extreme low light, what little night vision she had blurred to total obscurity. She, the Jedi, had done her duty and, in the course of it, saved the lives of the ships crew. Except, she didn't. And when they came after the crew again, the Reavers did not have a Jedi between them and the civilian crew because she had let her guard down, had let herself get hurt. The crew, heroic and stupid all at once, had sacrificed themselves to cover Spanners escape, him carrying her unconscious body on his shoulders.

Bits and pieces had filtered through and she remembered them now; a Dug physically assaulting one of the Reavers, going at the zombie with a pair of kitchen shears, a flash of a woman in a flight suit blasting away with her pistol until it ran empty and being thrown, albeit gently, into the escape pod. The explosive force of the launch must have knocked her out, again.

“Jaffer, the engineer. He stayed behind. Blew the ship once we were clear.”

It was all too much. Taryn felt ill, weak.

Just then, however, her attention was drawn to the treeline. Something was out there. Spanner had said they weren't out of danger.

Her hand snapped to her side. Fingers closed around her lightsaber, Taryn searched in the darkness wiping her eyes clear with the hem of her sleeve.

For just a moment she wondered if Master Lo would be proud of her for being so quick on her guard or would he reprimand her for letting her guard falter at all. A Jedi and a woman, she balanced her feelings of remorse with the need to remain ever vigilant against the dark side.

Lo, she thought to herself, I miss you.

A beam of light splashed at her feet and then Spanner was beside her, flashing his light against the trees. He had a particle rifle under one arm and with his free hand was searching the trees for movement.

They could hear the bushes rustling but could not find the source.

Taryn felt as though she was repeating herself, “What are they?”

“Don't know,” offered Spanner. “After I dragged you out of the pod, just moments after, I heard them. We weren't alone in the life pod, but we are now. New kid, managed to make it to the pod with us. These things,” Spanner waved the rifle at the trees, “out there, they took the kid so fast I only got a glimpse. He screamed, once.”

“I threw you over my shoulder and ran.” The would-be rescuer seemed exhausted. “What I saw, looked like some sort of lizard.”

The Jedi, sensing Spanners exasperation, took over.

“Probably a pack predator. There's no telling their numbers.”

If she had the time, or the skill of Master Lo at her disposal, she could turn to the force; detect their numbers, position and possibly even affect their perception. She, a knight by title, lacked the real world experience of her mentor. If it came to combat, however, Taryn felt sure she could hold her own.

“We need to find shelter, somehow.” Taryn shot Spanner a look, “Did you see anything coming in?”

Spanner shrugged, “Mountains, maybe.”

Something in the way she had asked, or what she had asked, caused in him a flash of disparity and she thought she knew why. Spanner was a trained rescue and retrieval operative who had let the situation get the best of him. And all because he had been focused on keeping her alive. Taryn realized, she owed this man a great debt of gratitude.

She wouldn't let him die here.

“Which way?”

Spanner gestured, “That way. Maybe fifty clicks.”

“Maybe,” he added gravely.

“It's something,” the Jedi reassured the spacer. “Let's go.”

They ran and ran.

Taryn was unsure how long they had been running for, but it was still dark with no sign of daybreak. They had left the clearing in a flat sprint and had not seen any sign of the sky since. It was a struggle, coping with the dense undergrowth. Giant roots and tangling vines caught at their feet, tripping them time and again. Spanner, his light flashing wildly in the darkness, was without Taryn's gift and so found it doubly difficult. Always just out of sight, their pursuers were their noisy, ever threatening partner.

Spanner cursed and went down, hard. His light bounced from his hand, skittering off.

“Get up,” Taryn almost shouted, coming alongside. “Keep moving.”

Spanner, on his knees, froze.

“Wait,” he whispered. “Listen?”

The Jedi, likewise, froze. She opened her mouth, to increase her auditory senses, and listened hard.

“Nothing,” she agreed, whispering. “Nothing at all.”

Nodding, Spanner wondered aloud, “Where did they go?”

And then, as if in answer to their shared query, a thunderous sound split the night. Against the sudden and harsh silence, a monstrous roar shook the forest. Deep and unnerving, the bass rumble could be felt through the trembling ground. There was no way of knowing how far off it was though it echoed long after. No matter the distance, whatever had been hunting Taryn and Spanner had sensed it and fled... before their human prey.

One of Lo's teachings came to Taryn. She remembered the old man saying, “Prey animals don't have to be the fastest game, they just need to be quicker then the slowest of their like.”

Taryn looked to Spanner and said, simply, “Run.”

Guessing their best chance was still the possible mountains Spanner may have seen, Taryn sprinted in their direction with Spanner close on her heels. She summoned her lightsaber to her hand as they ran, engaged the blade, and began using it to hack a path through the brush. The smell of burnt, freshly cut wood lingered behind them. Taryn, splattered with sap, worked to speed them along.

The roaring thunder rolled through the forest again, louder and more obvious then before.

“It's behind us,” observed Spanner, deadpan.

Taryn stopped and pointed her saber at a tree. “Should we climb?”

Spanner shook his head. “What if it can climb?”

“What if it's big enough not to need to?” He added, “We need to keep running.”

They did.

“It's getting closer,” Taryn stated after it had called again. She reckoned they were the only creatures in the forest, such was the silence that surrounded them between the monsters chilling bellows. “I'll slow it down.”

Spanner stopped mid stride.

He wore a look of utter disgust, “No, you won't.”

Catching her shoulders, Spanner locked eyes with the Jedi.

“My crew died, my ship blew up and I'm probably going to get eaten by a dinosaur or something... all so that you could escape. So, Jedi, don't go thinking I'm going to let you throw all that away.”

Taryn wasn't paying attention. She was looking past Spanner, over his shoulder, at something behind him. The spacer, sensing her distraction, turned and was greeted with an unexpected sight.

A pair of giant, bipedal lizards blocked the path ahead of them while, mounted on their shoulders, a pair of humanoid aliens in tribal dress waved long spears at the spacer and the Jedi.

“Dinosaur riding natives?” Spanner half chuckled. “Okay, fine. I give up.”

Ironically, he stuck his hands in the air.

The riders exchanged looks and then said, “You need to come with us.”

Driving their mounts closer, they dropped their spears into holsters on the sides of their saddles and extended six finger, two-thumbed hands at the pair of off-world strangers. “Ride with us.”

It was their turn to exchange looks. Spanner turned to Taryn and shrugged.

For her part, she sensed nothing dark in the pair. They shared a common tongue, the riders seemed almost human, outside of their six digits, and they were offering to help.

“May the force be with us,” Taryn offered by way of a quick prayer before taking the offered hand and pulling herself up, into the saddle behind the rider. “It seems to have been so far.”

Her rider fixed her with an uncomfortable, unfamiliar look but he said nothing.

And then, with Spanner in the saddle behind the second rider, the animal handlers clicked at their mounts and tugged at their reigns. With shocking speed and uncanny grace, the lizard mounts sprinted through the forest.

Taryn marveled at the creatures speed, they moved through the thick undergrowth as if it wasn't there. Their mounts, now that she had been close enough to tell, were very nearly human. They were, perhaps a little taller and more lithe, yet aside from their extra digits, very near baseline humans. And they steered their mounts easily, in stride with their every kick and thrust. Were it not for her hold on his body Taryn would surely have been thrown.

It was not awkward, however. After all she had been through Taryn was thankful for their arrival. The rider, for his part, seemed to ignore her presence behind him. Wether by intent or distracted by the task of steering his steed, Taryn did not know. Maybe natives had mistaken Taryn and Spanner for their own, or perhaps these weren't the first off world types they'd seen. Either way, she was glad they had come along when they did.

Spanner, clutching on to the saddle, rode behind the other native not far off her flank.

She wanted to call out to him, to say something, but she could not find the words.

And then, all at once, they broke from the forest. A great, empty plain of rolling grassland stretched out endlessly before them. In the full glow of a near-by moon (Taryn noted only one moon) the plains seemed infinite.

The riders did not pause and once in the open their mounts put on such a sudden turn of speed that Taryn nearly fell from the saddle. Her rider effortlessly reached behind himself, steadying her.

“Do not fall,” he huffed. “Do not look back.”

Naturally, she did.

The creature, whatever had taken up the chase in place of the pack which had been hunting them, broke from the trees. It was unlike anything Taryn had ever seen. Master Lo had told her stories about great dragons, he called them Kyrat. As a child she had imagined them. This, she realized, was worse.

It was massive, and even thinking it she found the word too small. Not massive, she considered, gargantuan.

She turned back.

“It will not follow us far from the trees,” the rider assured her.

“How far is far?” She asked, “If you're that big.”

The rider might have chuckled, she couldn't tell, though he did spur his mount on. He called at it, loudly, with shouts and screams, and the creature responded, putting its long head low, into the wind, with its tail flat out behind itself like some giant keel.

Eyes closed against the rushing wind, her head pressed against the riders back, and the thumping, pounding footfalls of their mount, Taryn felt connected to the force in a way that had escaped her since leaving Lo. The energy, the vibrations, seemed to be speaking to her through the force. Her breathing slowed and time seemed to slow with it. The ways of the Jedi trance came to her more easily here, amidst this chaos of activity, then it had in the most serene moments at home.

Taryn slipped deeper into her meditation, connecting with the beast beneath her. She had shared the astral plane with Master Lo and he had taught her to influence the minds of others but this was unlike anything she had known before. It was not as though she was viewing the animal, as she might in some projective state, nor was it like touching a mind, forcing it to behave in particular way. This was more intimate, as though they shared the same thoughts.

Her senses filled with details, thousands of times more acute and percise then her own. Even with her eyes closed she could see, but her vision was changed; she could see with great detail the smallest blade of grass while the rest of the world became a blur. Smells unlike any scent known to the human nose wafted through her awareness and thens he was breathing hard, pumping breath into her lungs with great gulps of oxygen rich air. Her body, the physical part of her that was muscle, bone and flesh, seemed as one with the mount and it became effortless to remain astride.

On the very edge of their shared senses Taryn became aware of the creature retreating to the forest and their shared sense of anxiety began to fade.

The riders slowed their mounts and Taryn felt her connection fading leaving in its place an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. With a heavy breath she slumped against the rider.

“Breath easy,” he remarked. “My village is close.”

“You are safe now.”

The village was unlike anything Taryn had expected. This was likely a result of her own assumption; thinking the native primitive. They were technologically inclined people, and this became obvious as they neared the settlement. For instance, the glimmering, vague and opaque energy field which formed a dome over and around the village – even to Taryn it was clear that this was some sort of energy shield. As they entered the camp Taryn realized something else, that these people were at least semi-nomadic. It looked as though they could pack up and move at a moments notice.

Their homes, roughly equal in size and placement, looked to be a combination of leather hides cast over polymer frames (themselves comprised of interlocking tubes). Each dwelling showed the signs of limited horticulture, too. Small gardens were spread throughout the camp. Pastoralism was an evident part of their lifestyle, Taryn counted half a dozen corrals with a variety of creatures penned in.

Nearing the center of the village, Taryn and Spanner found their attention drawn to a singular, much larger structure. This, made of worked stone, was no temporary structure. A pyramid, it showed the signs of advanced construction techniques, masonry and stone cutting. A large radial dish atop the structure, some sort of broadcast and/or receiver antenna, it looked capable of very long range communication.

At the foot of the radio tower a group had gathered.

Taryn estimated around forty individuals, sliding out of the saddle. Spanner moved to join her, the riders who had been their rescue remaining close.

She sensed waves of tension rolling off of the crowd until one of the locals (Taryn wasn't sure they were native at all) moved forward. He was old, much older then the riders, and seemed to be the eldest present. Bare chested, his pectorals were painted with tattoo’s and he wore a band of sinew on his forehead.

“Please,” he spoke in a deep, gravelly voice. “I am called Old Eyes, we are the people of the grass and we offer you welcome, off worlders.”

Old Eyes stuck out his hand at Spanner and in a very human gesture, shook his hand.

Spanner shook the offered hand in return, “Name's Spanner.”

He jerked a thumb, “That's Taryn.”

“Mind if I sit?” he asked before collapsing on to his posterior.

There was a long silence, a heavy awkwardness that dominated the night air. It hushed the gathered crowd suddenly and it was clear the locals were unsure what to make of it. Taryn, for her part, understood. Spanner had been going non-stop since the attack, and he didn't have her Jedi conditioning to bank on, nor had he gotten any rest since the event. Add to that the long, probably very uncomfortable ride on the back of a saddle built for one, but shared by two, and Taryn guessed that his legs simply did not have anything left. He was spent.

She knelt beside him, sharing a look of concern. Then, unsure, looked up at Old Eyes and, in that instant, something happened. The young Jedi felt lost, swallowed up by the dark, wrinkle-rimmed eyes of the old man. It lasted only a moment and then, as quick as it had come, was gone. Gone so quick, Taryn wasn't sure it had happened at all.

Abruptly, Old Eyes began to laugh.

Turning to his people, Old Eyes put his hands in the air and said, “Child Legs!”

“Ha Ha!” He laughed, “legs like a child!”

The crowd joined in.

Taryn sat, legs crossed, before a bountiful spread.

She marveled at the food, marveled at how the Grass People had brought together such a feast so suddenly and all just to make two strangers, two aliens, feel welcome. Eyes wet with gratitude, she studied the spread and cast a sidelong glance at Spanner.

Old Eyes, his family and most of the tribe had gathered around the blanket upon which the offering had been set. The blanket, more of a rug, was a woven tapestry with depictions of giant lizards and wooly mammals and covered a significant area of ground. Dishes carved of hollowed wooden knots or from the bones of some great creatures, decorated with colorful paints, offered an array of strange and wonderful smelling... things.

A series of torches were arranged around the blanket and carried by members of the tribe. They burned with bright, yellow flame. What they burned, however, was a mystery but these were not stone age torches.

Though they had thought the hour late, children of all ages crowded around Taryn and Spanner, utterly mesmerized by them.

Old Eyes had been fairly quiet since giving Spanner his new name, a name the children laughingly called him, as though waiting for the feast to be served before breaking the silence that had fallen between him and his guests. The Grass People continued to chatter, of course, but none of it was directed at Spanner or Taryn, though they guessed much of it was about them.

Thinking it best to respect their traditions, to observe their culture, Taryn and Spanner found themselves playing along, quietly. Always amicable, neither took offense at the comments they overheard or pushed away any who came close, inspecting the off world aliens with their hands.

Once around the blanket, Old Eyes spoke.

“Come,” he said, waving his hand over the food. “You must eat.”

Taryn was starving and Spanner was running on empty. If the food was poisoned, they didn't care. Once given the go ahead by the village elder, the pair dove in with abandon.

Spanner was a spacer, a hard core deep space smuggler, rogue and all around adventurer. He was trained in rescue and recovery, trained to survive in the most adverse conditions, trained for combat. The food, for all its strangeness, did not put him off for a moment.

Taryn was a Jedi, but more then that, she had been raised by an alien mollusk. Her definition of strange food didn't even compare.

They were well into stuffing their faces when they realized, with some measure of shame, that no one else was eating. Taryn swallowed a bite of something that tasted like corn, but had the texture of porridge and asked, “Aren't you eating.”

Old Eyes just smiled. “You are our guests,” he remarked. “First, feed your belly.”

He gestured reassuringly, “The Grass People are few on the plains. We live so others may live.”

“There is much danger alone,” Old Eyes smiled, the wrinkles on his face forming a roadmap of years lived. “You could be dead this night. You could be lost, alone.”

Leaning in, Old Eyes stared at them from across the blanket and the feast spread across it. “Think on this and enjoy what is now.”

“Where are we?” Spanner asked between bites of what might have been meat. “I mean, this planet. You seem to have a bit of tech, so I'm guessing you've had contact with off worlders before?”

Old Eyes half scoffed.

“Men and beasts from the sky have come before,” Old Eyes agreed. “Like you.”

Taryn noticed a heavy inflection on that last part, directed at Spanner.

She spoke up, “But they are gone?”

Nodding heavily, Old Eyes explained, “There is much danger here. Many come alone, they want to be alone. They are angry and they attack the People with their... tech... The People of the Grass and of the Forest and the Mountains offer welcome but they do not come for peace and without the People to show them how to live...”

“Others come with peace in their hearts,” Old Eyes was studying Taryn as he spoke now. “They find home here, with the People.”

Taryn asked, “With your people? The Grass people?”

“Some are my people,” his head bobbed. “Some are not. The Hill People, the Marsh People.”

They had stopped eating, Spanner having gorged himself while Taryn ate only to satisfaction. As if some unspoken agreement had been made, the people started to crowd on to the blanket, joining them. A small child, a girl, crawled in to Taryns lap, playing with her hair.

“I would like to learn more about the People,” Taryn spoke to Old Eyes, intermittently distracted by the child. “And about your lands also.”

“You will stay this night,” Old Eyes went on. “On the new sun we will talk more.”

“Thanks,” Spanner smiled, bits of maybe seeds stuck in his teeth. “But we've really gotta get going as soon as possible. You could just point us in the direction of... however we get off this rock?”

And then, despite herself, Taryn smacked Spanner upside his head and once it was done, and they were staring one another in the eye with looks of bemused aggravation, Taryn wasn't quite sure why she'd done it yet she was glad she had. It was out of character for her, she realized, but it had felt good.

“Of course we will accept your hospitality,” Taryn said, her gaze returning to Old Eyes. “And thank you, Old Eyes. You, your people, saved our lives this night.”

“I know,” replied the elder, standing. “I know.”

That night, for the first time since leaving her home, Taryn slept soundly under an open, starry sky.

Old Eyes greeted her the next morning, Taryn unable to recall falling asleep. He stood over her, waiting for her to awake and when she it was upon him that her eyes first fell and that sense of fellowship which had connected them the night before returned. The morning sun, warm against her skin, paled in comparison to the feeling of warmth that was his smiling, friendly face.

Taryn found herself smiling.

“I thought,” she said sleepily, “you were someone else.”

“Your teacher?” Old Eyes asked.

“Um,” Taryn paused, “Yes, actually. How...”

“I knew?” Old Eyes sat, legs crossed. “You are Jedi. Young Jedi.”

Alarmed, Taryn sat upright abruptly. She hadn't told anyone, had she?

“Please,” begged the elder, palm upturned. “Be calm.”

“Jedi have been among us,” he waved a hand to indicate the village and for a moment, a mere instant, Taryn imagined them, other Jedi among the people. “But that was long ago.”

Taryn had been trained by a Jedi and she identified herself as such but in truth a part of her, and no small part at that, doubted herself; could she truly call herself Jedi, never having been among them (save for her master). She longed to find others like herself. The loss of the monks scrolls, their tomes of collected knowledge, she had hoped to find a clue as to where she may find other Jedi. Lo, a galactic recluse and hermit, even by Jedi standards, had been deliberately elusive regarding the Jedi in recent years during her training. He would speak in cloaked truths and conundrums, often hinting at some dire fate. She couldn’t just ask, either. After all they had been through together, Taryn did not want to compromise her relationship with Spanner. Asking about the Jedi, she guessed, would in turn start him asking questions about her.

These thoughts tumbled through her brain. Further, she considered the immediate implications. For one, she surmised, if the Jedi had been here then it stood to reason that others, people with the means on and off planet, had done also... and may be doing, right now. That would mean a way home, for Spanner.

Taryn considered, What’s my next move?

Old Eyes seemed to sense her inner turmoil. He said, “Your friend snores.”

She blinked.

“It scared the children,” he smiled.

Despite herself, Taryn smirked.

“The women did not sleep,” he added. “He scared them, also.”

Laughing now, Taryn let her guard down and, casting her eyes to the still slumbering Spanner, found great relief in it. He had ingratiated himself to the children the night before preforming an animated ballad of some sort for their amusement. So much for that, she thought.

“Come,” asked the elder. He offered her his hand, standing. “I would like to show you something.”

They walked among the huts and tents toward the perimeter fence. Old Eyes suggested the leave Spanner to his dreaming. Breakfast, he had said, would be ready soon. Better to wake to the smell of frying bread and smoked meats. They neared a pair of the mounts that had spirited her to safety the night before.

See recognized the pair as the very same. Surprised at herself for being able to distinguish the animals from one another, having only just encountered them. Yet, as she looked at the animals she could discern clear differences. One was slightly taller then the other, for example while the smaller of the two seemed to have more girth.

One, the taller mount, swung its head around, peering at her. Something, she wasn’t sure what, told her that this was the creature she had bonded with. Binocular vision, sharp teeth and keen intellect regarded her at length. There was something disconcerting in the way it stared at her though she couldn’t say what. As unnerving as it was to be so regarded by an animal, she found a warmth in those eyes, their reptilian attributes did not put her off that sensation.

“We call them dunnak.” Old Eyes bent, catching something in his hands. “They have the spirits of men.”

He tossed the object, something furry and red, into the air. The dunnak whipped its head up, away from Taryn, catching the offering out of the air in one swift, quick motion. It didn’t chew, it simply swallowed it whole.

Taryn, half shocked, shot Old Eyes a confused look.

“They eat plants,” he shrugged. “But also meat.”

Omnivores, she thought. Evolutionarily speaking, it was an effective adaptation. But with those teeth...

“Do they...” she paused. “Is the Force with them?”

Smiling, the elder recalled a story told to him by his father, of a Jedi among his people when his father was but a child. The Jedi was like the People and they did not know he was one, at first. He spent many years with the People and when Old Eye’s father was a young man, the Jedi revealed himself as such. He apologized for his deception but told the People it was necessary for his safety and theirs as well. The stars had become unsafe for the Jedi. The People kept his secret and the Jedi stayed among them for a time longer. During that time he taught the People about the Force and how it was connected to their spirits and their gods and even to their magic. He taught them that the magic they could make between the People and the animals was a bond created through the force, something that was unique on their planet.

“Our riders,” Old Eyes explained, “like those that found you, share their spirits with their dunnak. It makes them stronger, faster but also better. That is what you felt.”

She looked at him.

“How did you know?”

Old Eyes, in that mysterious and aloof way, smiled.

“In the way I know you as Jedi,” he offered an old, wrinkled hand to the dunnak. It sniffed, deeply, then dropped its head and pushed gently against the hand. It was an incredibly mammalian gesture and the scientist in her was going crazy with questions. Old Eyes, his hand pressing against the creatures head, closed his eyes and the dunnak dig likewise. “We share our thoughts. The dunnak told me.”

It all made sense, all at once.

And just then, Spanner suddenly arrived. He appeared, as if searching for Taryn, from around one of the huts.

“You ready to get moving?” He asked, ever ambitious to get back to his life, whatever that was.

“No,” she replied, half aware she was speaking. “I don’t think I am.”

Taryn reached out, pressing her hand against the dunnak. She closed her eyes.

"What?" Spanner, confused, asked. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you want to go..." He trailed off.

"Home?" Taryn shot back angrily. "My home is on the frontline of a war I did not ask for. It was war that stranded us here."

She, looking around herself at the meger dwellings, their subsitence lifestyle so appealing to her, gave Spanner a long, contemplative sigh. Reflecting on her adventure thus far, Taryn found the relative peace, the sense of restfulness she felt here. Even allowing herself, just for a moment, to toy with the notion of bringing Master Lo here, away from the galactic turmoil. So much could be gleaned from living among The People.

"I am not ready to leave," she stated flatly. "I won't stop you from going."

For his part, Spanner shot her a look of utter incredulity. That soon passed, however; only to be replaced by one of outrage.

"Listen here, little miss Jedi," he began, ranting. "Because of you I lost my ship, my crew and everything I own in the galaxy. I've damn near been Reaver bait, dino chow and after that ride last night I will probably never have children! So, if you think I am leaving this rock without you, you're sorely mistaken. I intend to get paid, after all this, and for that I need something to show for it. That something is you!"

Taryn rounded on him, knuckled balled into fists.

"You bullheaded..." she searched herself, eyes landing on the mounts, "dunnak!"

Old Eyes chose that moment to interject. Inserting himself flawlessly into the conversation, he stepped between the pair to impart a piece of wisdom.

"We all must walk our own path," the elder offered. "When we cross paths with others it is good not to become confused who walks where."

It was at this point that they realized, simultaneously, that neither had been invited to stay. In their sudden awkwardness all thoughts of arguing the matter seemed to fade. How ethnocentric a behavior, they seemed to say, to behave with such entitlement, such presumption.

Old Eyes, however, simply smiled. "Of course," he paused to put arms around their shoulders, "You are welcome to remain with us. It is unsafe to travel during the rut. Had we not seen your fall from the sky we would not have sent riders to search, it is too dangerous to be out without reason... and a fast dunnak."

Spanner seemed to concede.

"There's probably no harm in staying," he said, pouting. "For now."

"Good," Old Eyes shook their shoulders. "You will have time to learn."

Exchanging glances, Taryn and Spanner asked in tandem, "Learn what?"

"Ha ha," the elder laughed mockingly. "Learn how to work, of course."

"Life is not all conversation and feasting, after all."

It was their turn to sigh, but it was better then being food for the lizards.