Chapter Text
You stride through the forest weaving between the large conifers. They stretch high, blocking out the light emitted from the twin moons, they’re old, as old as the planet itself. You’re in pursuit of your next meal, a juvenile Acalay that you’ve been tracking for miles. The large crustaceans were introduced to the forests when an incompetent smuggler forgot to lock their gate while refuelling in a time before the empire. They have roamed the forests ever since, but they have become far and few between in recent years, due in part to their popularity in gladiatorial battles. For an untrained hunter their size would be intimidating, but your grandmother had taught you the way long ago, so for you its size indicated months worth of food. Silence was key, one wrong move, one misstep, one branch cracking, and one of its six claws would snap you in half like the twig that gave you away. You had taken out larger ones at a younger age. Yes, your grandmother had taught you how to hunt, how to track, how to feel the earth around you.
She had also taught you about your mother, who died saving you and your father executed for not revealing your whereabouts. As a child she would tell you that you were one of the galaxy's best kept secrets. Quickly, you realized you were not like the other children and as you continued to grow the puzzle of your past was slowly pieced together. She would tell you stories of the old war, and how it came to be. How your mother fought against a cult in order to maintain a balance in the universe. With each new revelation you became increasingly aware that your existence was to be kept hidden. On your eightieth birthday your grandmother explained how your mother was a Jedi and that you shared her gift, an ability to use the force. That’s why you were here on this planet, for safekeeping. She told you she had been training you in the ways of the Jedi, as she had trained your mother, and that she would continue to do so until her time came. So you lived alone, here amongst the trees. Well, not completely alone, a small vulptice kept you company. It was adapted to a forest environment with a body of roots, a belly covered in deep green moss and grass growing over top. Every spring it would bloom flowers of brilliant colours. You had named it Anya and it had been your companion, and closest friend over the years. The mysticism of your grandmother's arrival had sparked rumours, ones that stretched far and wide. The locals had labelled her a witch, and you had become a legend of sorts. These rumours brought outsiders, with their flashy weapons and armour hard as steel. Since your grandmother's passing it had only gotten worse. Fortunately, you were an able fighter, primed to win even when up against advanced weaponry. Those who had doubted your abilities now littered the path to your house. A warning to those who would come sooner or later.
You remember her words as you spot your target, “Breath child, put your focus on the tip of the arrow, listen to the breeze and it will guide you.” you lift the arrow stretching the sinew chord back until your thumb brushes against your nose. You're about to loose the arrow when the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Someone’s here. You rush back leaping through the branches, silently moving towards you home. You stop above the stone cottage, staring down you see a tall figure approaching. It moves towards the door, avoiding the helmets and bones of those who came before. Silently you float to the ground, taking aim you make your presence known
“Drop the blaster”.