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Kuill’s corpse lay cooling on the hot sand. His lifeforce gathered around the Child.
“IG-11 will avenge me,” the ghost told the Child. “He will ensure your safety. Wait for him.”
The storm troopers picked the Child up from the sand and shoved him into a knapsack. He peeked his head out and watched the ghost shimmer into the heat waves of the desert, and everything that had been Kuill went back into the energy of the force that the Child felt in all things.
The Child knew that he would not see Kuill again and he was filled with sorrow.
Regret had been new to him, but sorrow was not.
The Child waited.
It hurt when the men hit him, and darkness roiled in his soul. He had learned that he could squeeze the throats of other living things, and that if he squeezed long enough, they would not bother him anymore. He thought about it and thought about the panic in the Mandalorian’s voice when he had done it. He saw the Mandalorian kill all manner of creature, but he worried the gunslinger would be disappointed if he learned that the Child was doing the same.
IG-11’s arrival kept him from having to think about it further. It was with joy that they rode into the town. The Child felt every life that the droid took, but he was delighted with the feel of the wind around his bruised head, and the sense of safety he felt in the metallic arms of his nurse droid.
It was with abject fear when he felt the blast in the ground and felt the familiar force of his gunslinger waver.
Cara dragged the Mandalorian into the bar, and the Child could feel the life seeping from him.
The Child stood beside the Mandalorian. The warrior woman was trying to remove his helmet, and he was stopping her. The Child knew he could heal him, but he could feel the maleficence outside, and knew that if he didn't stop the evil out there, all his friends would be dead, and the Child would be alone once more.
Heat exploded around them, and he heard the stress in Cara’s voice as she pleaded with the Mandalorian to get up .
A storm trooper, cased in red stripes, walked into the ruins of the cantina. He lifted his flame thrower.
The Child raised his hand, creating a bubble of safety around the Mandalorian and Cara. The blast swelled around them and deflected back onto the enemy, and the Child felt the life snuff out from the trooper.
Weak as the Mandalorian’s force was, he felt a sense of relief and pride roll off the man.
“Good job, Kid.” The Mandalorian hadn’t said it, but the Child knew.
It was the last thought the Child had before he sank into unconsciousness.
0o0o0o0o0o0o
Later, in the dark tunnels of the Covert, the Kid was slipping back into wakefulness when he heard the Armorer tell the Mandalorian that he was as a father until he reached an age or found his people. He remembered that word, father. He had not heard it in a long time.
After they escaped the tunnels and the Mandalorian—his father—lifted him into his arms, the Kid knew he was, at last, home.
The Child snuggled in close to his father and watched the shrinking forms of his new friends.
He could feel the evil, shifting force of the man that had come after them. He knew he wasn’t dead, and that they would have to face him again.
But for now, they were safe.
He buried his face into his father’s shoulder.
Later, he helped find the volcanic rocks that his father was placing over the cooled body of Kuill. He stood and listened as his father spoke foreign words over the body of the Ugnaught. Kuill was gone, but the Child could feel his spirit around them, could feel a sense of satisfaction.
“C’mon Kid,” his father picked him up. “There’s a galaxy waiting for us.”