A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...
He was going to die in this desert, he was sure.
Tatooine held no promises for foreigners besides the likelihood of starvation, dehydration, and heat exhaustion. The desert wasteland inhabitants hopefully entitled a planet was nothing more than a broiling pot of despair, sand, and desolation – how one managed to survive in such a place was a thought; why one stayed on world was so far beyond his comprehension that it was unfathomable.
He'd been here three weeks; three long, miserable weeks since leaving Coruscant. In these three weeks, Obi-Wan Kenobi rationalized his survival and realized, that even in a simplistic lifestyle like that of the Jedi, he'd been comfortable and fortunate. Having much more than others and taken for granted most commonalities that here would've been luxuries, he had not realized how posh his lifestyle had been, even when having nothing of his own on a civilized, industrialized planet.
After all that had happened on Coruscant with Order 66 and the destruction of the Temple, he'd fled off-world with Padmé and Bail, desperate and beyond himself. The events had tossed Padmé into an early labor – the thought of her still, lifeless, serene body sent a child down his spine and swirled grief around his senses. All that was left of the sweet Senator was her memory and her children – both which he'd seen to to the best of his abilities.
Which had brought him to Tatooine – the older son; Luke, he'd placed with a barren young couple of moisture farmers, desperate for a child themselves and who promised a humble, true upbringing which Padmé would have desired. Organa had taken the girl, Leia, to Alderaan; to raise her in politics and under his watchful eye; to carry on the legacy of her mother, as the Senator would've wanted.
Once he'd placed the infant in the woman's hands in the Tatooine evening, Obi-Wan Kenobi was at a crossroads: either stay and watch over Luke's upbringing, as Yoda had anticipated; or go off world and vanish entirely into time and live out the continuation of his life alone. In that moment as he'd watched the young parents cradle Luke so closely; so thankful for a child, something had spread over him. Something urgent; pleading for him to say, crying out to him. He could not simply abandon Anakin's child, no matter how fallen his padawan was – he could not let Luke go without protection. Yoda had said he was chosen; chosen to replace Anakin and restore balance, to do what his father could not.
No – Obi-Wan could not abandon the future of the Jedi.
And now it had been three weeks. He had not eaten decently, nor had he had a proper change of clothes or a night sleep since his arrival. He'd traded the beast and the supplies within his first week for enough food to last him until now. Whatever clothing he'd brought with him he'd sold for water and sleep – the only personal belongings he still possessed was his Coruscanti cloak and lightsaber, tucked deep within his waist belt and in the darkness of secrecy.
To lay low he'd changed his name to the public to simply, "Ben". However, alive to him was still Obi-Wan Kenobi, though in the hidden places of his heart and mind. Locals didn't know the name Kenobi this far from Coruscant, as he'd never spent much time on Tatooine while being on the Council. For the most part he was another off-worlder, who'd foolishly chosen the desert world as a place to restart the life so long ago abandoned. To him, however, the story was different – but, that did not matter.
Today marked the third week of his arrival on Tatooine. It was a similar day, as they seemed to blend together in the unbearable heat and dryness and arid climate; hot and foreign to his city-acclimated body. He consistently sweated and thirsted, and he was sure he was on the outer verge of dehydration.
The small village was quaint and populated, not lacking in basic supplies by any means; but, just simply, small. There were about a hundred souls which populated Talba; mostly nomadic farmers that made their way around the region to move livestock and return for basic supplies and more animals. What populated the village were women and children, mostly; some hooligans and other petty criminals.
Talba was not far from the family he'd placed Luke with, roughly two or three miles to the East. Obi-Wan figured this was the outpost they gathered supplies from. The Toshi Station was six more miles West; a bigger hub for technology and luxury, but farther into the desert and much too far to travel on foot. Lacking currency and transportation kept Obi-Wan here in Talba, where he moved through the shadows of the alleys. He refused to steal, so he worked to eat and worked to sleep for a man called Issik, who ran Talba's largest marketplace and oversaw the commerce and entrepreneurship of the village's business.
"Ben!"
The man's voice called to him across the sandy street of the village, which was just beginning to stir in the early morning, already blistering with heat and heavy. Obi-Wan had barely just risen himself, and staggered out of the back room of Issik's shop, his feet heavily and body sore.
He yawned, stretched his arms over his head, and plodded across the shop towards the front room where Issik kept his books and did most of his personal business. The shop was dark as the sun hadn't fully risen yet, his shadow bouncing over shelves and merchandise as light cascaded in through the bottom of the door and other gaps in the architecture. He stopped in the doorway, watching Issik mark papers, as he was not fortunate to do his business on datapads and with technology.
"You called?" As if Issik had doubted his presence, he reassured the man. He leaned against the doorpost and crossed his arms in front of him, crossing his feet at the ankles as well.
"Yeah, I did," the man gave him a quick, sly smile and shuffled the papers through his hands. "Will you be staying another night?" He posed the same question every morning, and Obi-Wan gave him the same answer, as he had no other.
"Of course. What do you need me to do today?"
The man nodded, looking genuinely pleased, as usual. He tucked whatever papers he'd been working on under his arm and gestured at the door, moving around the desk quickly. "Come, I'll show you." They moved out of his office room and across the store, towards the back door again, bypassing the room Obi-Wan slept and kept his things in. "It's a big job, but I have every confidence in you, my friend."
Obi-Wan chuckled, "Nothing is too big if approached in small ways," he retorted. This caused Issik to laugh as he opened the back door, revealing the back alley. Obi-Wan was familiar with the sight – Issik did not like him to go in and out the front of the store, so he'd become quite acquainted with the back alley entrance.
Issik's building was adjacent to the village's wall, so it was the end of the back streets which ran along the village's wall – a clever place to put his merchandise, so cleverly locked in heavy boxes and crates, to discourage thieves and miscreants to keep from stealing it. Despite the security of crates, there were still attempts at thievery, which Obi-Wan drove off due to his close proximity to the door. It was a poor but necessary arrangement, for the moment.
"As you know, I've been haggling with Talor about letting me rent one of his empty stalls at the livery," Issik stepped into the alleyway, which was significantly cooler than the inside of the shop. The fresh air blasted Obi-Wan's senses and he breathed deeply, crossing his arms in front of him and nodding to confirm his understanding.
"Of course. Has Talor relented?"
The man smiled, "Naturally – who could resist such an offer? He has consented to letting me rent a stall for a decent amount of credits every month," he looked to the supplies in the alley corner, "Which is far cheaper than constantly having to worry about driving off thieves, as you well know. There is no price for peace of mind, to be sure."
Obi-Wan gave the man a small smile, "Indeed." He was familiar with the ideal, but it seemed such a mystery and long-forgotten memory after all that had transpired. His world of peace had crumbled, leaving him in chaos and misery – peace was, at this point, an unattainable dream, and he was in reality.
"So, my friend," he clapped a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, "I am entrusting my goods to your care, to see them to Talor's building. It will take you a great while, but it is necessary. You are much younger and much stronger than I am," he winked and nudged Obi-Wan's ribs with his elbows as if to make the situation comical, "Do you think it is something you can see to?"
Obi-Wan nodded, "Of course. I will go see Talor and discuss transportation of the materialsand make myself acquainted with the space."
Issik's face illuminated in a bright smile, his eyes sparkling with relief and exuberant joy. "Excellent, Ben! See to this properly, and there may be something extra in it for you." He winked again and turned from the back alley, to head back into the store. "I will check on you this afternoon to see how things go," he nodded to Obi-Wan in confirmation, "Good luck."
"Thank you, Issik. All will be well." He began rolling up the sleeve on his tunic and gave the man a confident smirk, "Don't work too hard in there." The man laughed at him, shook his head, and retreated into the store, closing the door behind him. Obi-Wan listened to his whistling a moment as he began preparing the store for business before he turned to the task at hand and set to work.
. . .
"Ahhh, if it isn't my sweet desert flower. Come in, Maridian – tell me, what has your father for me today?"
Maridian Hail stepped fully into the doorway of Talor's livery office as a man slipped by her and nodded to her politely before scouring her body with his eyes. Ignoring him, Maridian made her way towards Talor's desk and unshouldered the satchel she'd been carrying, then reaching to unwind the wrap from her head which was sprinkled with tidbits of sand from her trek across the sands.
Talor's eyes followed her hands, which were bruised and dirty – one wrapped from an incident a few days previous involving a branding iron and an angry Bantha. His eyes went from her hands to her satchel when she draped the wrap over her shoulder and stooped to open the bag. She pulled out the papers with her family's mark in the top corner and riffled through them a moment.
"My father is willing to trade four of his prize Banthas for your land," she slapped the paper down in front of him, her unwrapped hand still firmly placed on top, "He'll add two more males if you give him the oasis spring you've been keeping secret from the other herdsmen; you know, the one south of the Morovian Pass?" The look of astonishment that pulled on his face caused the corner of her lips to upturn in a smile, "And he will consider the other proposition."
The man gave her a sly smile and sat back in his chair, not taking his eyes from her. Talor Jukkuun was the prize herdsmen of Talba's people, owning the only livery on the Greeken Paths, which was the most traveled of the herding routes this far from Toshi and Mos Eisley. He had direct contacts in Mos Eisley for supplies and meat, as well as moisture – a powerful man in Talba, to be certain. A powerful – and unmarried – man.
Maridian locked stares with him and then quirked a brow, removing her hand from the paper work and straightening from the other side of the desk. She crossed her arms in front of her and cocked a hip, "Well?"
The man laughed and stood up from his chair, a hulking six foot two inches which towered over her own five foot eight frame. While his reputation was a powerful one, it did not match his physical presence – he was at least three hundred pounds of well trimmed muscle, with dark eyes and hair. His skin was colored by the sun and a mixture of tattoos and scars. He was Talba's most eligible bachelor, and the village's prize. "You amuse me, Maridian. Your strength beguiles me. I will take your father's four Bantha's in payment for the land," he bent and scribbled his name on the paper, then folded it and handed it to her, "and I will think on the oasis. Wouldn't seem like a fair trade – for your father," his smile revealed white teeth and a glimmer in his eye Maridian wasn't sure about.
She plucked the paper from his hand, "He wouldn't consider it if it wasn't a fair trade," her voice trailed as she looked away and stooped to grab the satchel, slinging it over her shoulder. "I will bring the Bantha's by Friday. Expect them."
He chuckled, "As you say, my dear. Water your mount around the back and see to it that Manashe gives you ample supplies for your journey home. Perhaps she has some salve for your hand."
Maridian nodded and turned from him, removing the wrap from her shoulder and folding it in her hands as she left. She tucked it into her waist-belt She took in the village's activity from Talor's front porch before stepping down the stairs – nothing too unusual; street merchants selling wares and children playing in the streets. It was quiet this afternoon, as the heat of the day was heavy and did not call for such rigorous activity.
She left Talor's porch and met her mount, a young Eopie saddled lightly with fraying leather reigns. Maridian patted the animal's back and unwound the reigns from the porch's supporting beam, then clicked her tongue to lead the animal through the alley to the back of the livery. She rounded the corner and found it deserted – Manashe was nowhere to be seen, which was odd. The old woman usually guarded the pump with her very life.
She looked down the alley, which was more of a backstreet – Talba had its main course of travel for residents and citizens, but the back alleys were streets where most of the good trade was born. It ran adjacent with the village's wall, so the backdoors of the merchants and other vendors viewed nothing but the fortuity of the village. The alley streets were dirty and unkept, but in the shade and cool – the shadow from the wall and the buildings provided smooth, cool sands and kept the water pump of Talor's shop wet and somewhat cool.
Maridian noticed most of the doors to the alley merchants were closed – not usual for this time of day. However, there was movement down the way, in the corner – she recognized the area to be Issik's property, which was loaded with locked chests of the most rumored goods in the village. Something stirred inside her – something she was not unfamiliar with; a feeling that was, at this point in her life, not uncommon or foreign. She studied the movement, noticing it was a man moving supplies out of Issik's corner. Not surprising, for Issik had many, many contacts as the trade overseer for the village. While Talor knew livestock, Issik knew wares and other goods. She dismissed the feeling.
The beasts in the livestock building, which was adjacent about 100 yards from Talor's office, moaned longingly. Maridian noticed they were male Eopie's, and she ignored them as they pawed the earth for release from their stalls. This didn't shock her when Luna, her own beast, skitted and shifted uncomfortable beside her – it was breeding season, which drove prices higher and made her father's Bantha's exceptionally coveted on the trade market. It was no surprise to her that Talor had jumped on her father's deal – her father was known for the prizest of Banthas, and they were expensive during breeding season and would make for an excellent breeding season.
Maridian ignored the movement in Issik's corner – he always had people working for him, so it wasn't unusual to see someone in his back alley. Instead, she called out for Manashe . "Manashe? It's Maridian – I was wondering if –"
Suddenly, Luna screeched and roared a nasally call of alarm as a figure charged from around the livery's corner. He came across the 100 yards so quickly Maridian had no time to react – she dropped the reigns and backpedaled so quickly she hit the watering pump hard. Pain shot up her shoulders and into the base of her neck as the figure came at her. He was big and thick, wearing a wrap, which made it difficult to identify anything but his eyes.
His strides were big and he lunged for her arm, but she rolled away from the pump quickly and pushed herself up. Her feet skidded through the sands, but she came around quickly to meet his next attack with a handful of sand and tossed it at him. He growled, cried out, and began rubbing at his eyes as she shot past him, pushing him aside and running for Luna's reigns. Maridian was about to grab them when a thick arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back. A calloused hand clapped over her mouth, and the man began dragging her back towards shadows of the livery where he'd come.
She fought him, thrashing wildly, trying to free her arms to get a blow to his side. But, this man was accomplished, and had her pinned so tightly against him that she couldn't have freed herself it she'd tried. His hand clamped tighter around her mouth and he grabbed her wrist while still holding her against him, then hissed in her ear darkly " Say one word and I'll kill you – understand?"
Her eyes widened and she swallowed thickly, him pushing her away from her body roughly. He forced her onto the sandy ground, pinned her arms with his knees, and took her head wrap from her belt and stuffed it into her mouth. She writhed and arched her back and kicked her feet, his immense weight sending burning, crushing pain up her arms and into her spine. Rage boiled within her and the feeling returned, that strange sense she'd accustomed herself to swirled around her stomach. It felt as if a scream was embedded within her gut and was pulling for release – as if she were screaming internally, but no noise left her throat.
She pleaded in her mind for Talor, praying he would come out the back entrance and rescue her from this, and her eyes kept moving around the man, who was doing his best to restrain her; towards the building. No one came, Luna only wandering towards the locked stalls of the male Eopies. Maridian thrashed and kicked her feet in the sand, but it did nothing as her core was pinned by the massive weight of this attacker. Tears of rage and panic stung her eyes as his hands roughly ran down her sides, searching for the hem of her clothing. The only thing running through her brain was the shame that would follow her forever; Talor's refusal of her dowry; her family's downfall – the death of her father, her sisters being sold into slavery.
There was a dark, guttural chuckle before a sharp, haggard tear of cloth.
. . .
Obi-Wan had felt the jarring and strong shift in the Force, which had caused him to turn around and notice the figure at the end of the back alley street, and had identified it as a younger woman. She was a traveler off the sands with a female Eopie, if he had interpreted her garb correctly; come to water at Talor's pump – he reasoned she must've been a beautiful woman to find such favor with Talor, for Talor didn't allow such privileges with everyone and anyone. And certainly not plain or homely individuals – it surprised him that she was travelling alone, especially in Talba; as this village wasn't known as a safe place for wandering ladies to travel unescorted.
What had surprised him even more than her lack of escort was the fact that the Force pulled him towards her – it was a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach, one that almost drove him to the point of pain; strong, sudden, urging. He regretted the feeling almost instantaneously – usually it always meant, in such waves and strength, that there was trouble, and trouble was what he didn't need.
He had wiped his brow and watched her a moment as she looked around the back of Talor's shop – she didn't know Manashe had left suddenly for whatever purpose and was not around. Sweat trickled down his temple from his hair, now slick with perspiration, as she looked around cautiously, leading the beast carefully. He blinked when she caught sight of him, and he turned to her when he noticed she had taken note of him and was watching.
He hefted a crate, feeling the pull and pain in his leg muscles, his fingers slick and slippery with sweat. He'd rubbed sand through his fingers to give him traction, and felt his boots shift in the sand; felt exhaustion pull his nerves tighter and tighter. He was starving and in desperate need of bath and change of clothing, but would find no relief – he had not yet asked Issik for use of commodities, instead just cooled himself and cleaned at the pump a few doors down the back alley.
Obi-Wan ignored the woman as he moved the box towards the hover-craft, sliding it into place with the others he'd already loaded, when a pang of warning shot through his stomach and the Force almost knocked him to his knees; so hard, in fact, he staggered backwards a few steps. IT seemed to cry out to him, this shift – or, it was crying out to him, alerting him, stirring his awareness. Stirring his sense of honor and diplomacy.
The girl.
He spun back around, the sands shifting beneath his boots, and stopped short, jarring back in surprise. He watched as the girl threw a handful of sand at a tall, hulking man dressed in black. The man staggered backwards, swiping at his face, and she shoved him away and ran for the animal, reaching for the reigns –
-not before the man had recovered, pivoted, and wrapped a hugely thick arm around her waist, The other wrapped around her front, obviously to cover her mouth, and he began dragging her through the sands, towards Talor's livery building. Alarm punched Obi-Wan in the gut and he did not think twice before taking off across the sands towards the scene.
His eyes were forever cemented on the man as he drug the woman into the shadows and forced her to the floor. The man's twitching and struggling frame indicated she was fighting back to the best of her ability; he pushed himself harder across the sands, his heart racing; and the man pinned himself on top of the woman. There were no sounds or cries, so he assumed she was gagged; the Force was urging, pushing, jarring him forward, almost forcing him through the air. His breath was heavy and his lungs burning, his mouth dry and hot – this could ruin everything, he told himself; he couldn't – wouldn't – use the Force. Could not, under any circumstances.
The woman writhed in the sand, kicking her feet, unable to move her upper body due to the man's weight. Obi-Wan could see the man's hands roaming, and he was almost there when he heard the deep, guttural chuckle and a tear of clothing. His heart jumped into his throat, his stomach exploded with rage, and he felt his body tense in reaction – it was over, right here. He was losing his ability to be calm –
-without thought, he slid to a stop in the sands, swiftly shifted his weight to his right leg and sharply landed his left foot in-between the man's shoulder blades. The girl screamed through the gag, writhing in panic, as the man fell on top of her and rolled off. As soon as the weight had lifted the girl was backpedaling on her elbows away from the scene, the attacker facing Obi-Wan with a startled and unprepared look in his eyes.
Obi-Wan poised himself, careful not to indicate too much training, and balled his fists tightly. He was sweating bullets now, his clothes all but dripping, droplets dancing down his face from his hair and beard. The girl was no up and pulled the gag from her mouth, tossing it aside. To his surprise, she moved towards him, the man watching, and turned to face her attacker, arms brought up and fists balled tightly. She had a level look in her eye and his awareness piqued – the Force was rushing through him now, speaking to him, sensing him – who was this woman -?
Without warning, the woman roared and leaped towards the man, her foot landing right in his jaw, sending him flying backwards in the sand in an elegantly precise kick – at this, his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. The woman did a serious of blocks as the man had risen and threw multiple strikes at her, but failed; she instead landing a strong punch to his nose and send him reeling back again.
At this point he intervened, moving past her and landed another blow to the man's temple. He missed, the man instead slamming his fist into Obi-Wan's nose. He felt something pop, then realized he'd reeled back a few steps, dazed. In rage, he swung around and roundhoused, his boot landing the man in the temple.
This time the attacker did not move, instead drooped into the sand unconscious. The only sounds were the waning moan of the Eopie's in the stalls and her haggard breathing, his own matched with heavy breaths. He turned to look at her and then reached up to touch his nose, which erupted in a fire of pain as he felt the sticky, warm blood run down his fingers. He winced.
"Hold on," she quickly turned from him and jogged through the sand around the corner, and returned a few moments later with a cloth and canteen. She unscrewed the lid, and doused the rag with water. Droplets ran down her fingers and she approached him, placing the cloth against his nose, "this will numb it." He nodded and took the cloth from her and pulled it away, it stained with sharp, red blotches of his blood.
"Thank you," he cleared his throat and pressed the cloth back to his nose. He focused his attention on her as she screwed the lid back on the canteen. He noticed one of her hands was wrapped, the other bruised and sporting cuts and callouses. What was left of her clothes wasn't much, as it was hanging in torn shreds around her midriff. "Are you -?"
"I'm fine," she interjected, waving away the thought as she reached for a hanging piece of her shirt, "He didn't get far," she looked up at him and gave him a confused look, "Who are you?" She did not waste time with formalities – neither did her eyes; they were demanding and inquisitive as they reached inside his own, which startled him only slightly.
"I'm Ben," he gestured towards Issik's shop with a wave of his hand, "Issik's help, at the moment." His speech was nasally with the cloth pressed against his nose, which sounded humorous, he imagined. The small smile playing at her lips told him it was funny, and he gestured to her, "And you?"
She extended a hand, "Maridian Hail," he shook it, noticing her firm grip and rough hands – but, still feminine hands nonetheless. He nodded at the name – he knew the name Hail; as in Bartholomew Hail, the rancher just outside of Talba. He owned much of the sands around the area and was known for his prize Bantha's – and known for his relationship with Talor.
"Bartholomew Hail's daughter," she looked much too young to be his wife, he presumed. Much too young, indeed. She couldn't have been more than 21 or 22, at least from what he could tell by her face and eyes, which was difficult given the disarray and dirt and sand.
She nodded, "You know my father."
He shook his head no, "Just the name and the reputation."
She nodded, smiled, and stepped back, "Let me get you something," she gestured over her shoulder back towards the pump, "Please." He nodded and followed her, and she approached the beast and grabbed the reigns, opening one of the saddle bags before leading the animal back towards the water pump. It was another canteen, and she draped the animal's reigns over the back porch rail and set to work on the pump, initiating the buttons and commands.
He seated himself on the bottom step of the porch, "You had better get someone to tend to that man," he pulled the cloth away, the coolness of it soothing his nose, "before he gets any more ideas."
She nodded, "Talor will deal with him," she collected the water from the pump and approached him, handing him the sweating, cold canteen. Deep from beneath the sands, the water was fresh and cold; inviting. He set the rag on the step beside him and downed a strong, long gulp of the water. She moved past him and up the steps, "Give me a second. I'll be right back."
Nodding, he said nothing as she disappeared into the back door, leaving him, the beast, and the unconscious man over behind the livery. The animal's dumb eyes watched him wet the cloth and press it against the back of his neck, the cool water soothing Obi-Wan's muscles, for the moment. There was movement in the building, then vibrations and voices.
"What? Who attacked you?"
"Talor, it's nothing –"
"It isn't nothing, Maridian!" The door to the building swung open and Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder – the hulking business man glared at him, tromped down the step loudly, and moved towards the livery. He stopped short when he breeched the building and whipped around, to face them from a distance. Maridian was leaning against the porch post, arms crossed in front of her.
"He's…unconscious," Talor approached them, a look of surprise and confusion on his face. He frowned at Obi-Wan and looked to the woman, "And this man rescued you?"
She nodded, "Yes. He knocked the man unconscious," she gave him a small smile, "Without him, I'd be – "
"Don't even speak such a thing," Talor frowned and reached for her hand, then gently placed a kiss on her knuckles. "I will have someone come for the man immediately." Obi-Wan suddenly felt as if he'd taken too much liberty in his study of the girl – she had been beautiful, he'd noticed it from the very beginning, but now he had regretted his gazes. The man turned to him suddenly and clapped a hand on his shoulder, "And you, my good man – you are?"
"Ben," Obi-Wan offered him his hand, "Ben Kenobi. I am working for Issik,"
The man nodded, "Ah, Issik! He mentioned you – you are bringing supplies to one of the stalls this afternoon?" He rubbed the goatee on his chin and smiled, "Though it would appear you've busied yourself with rescuing my desert flower instead," his eyes leveled on Maridian; a look of devotion and adoration flooding his eyes, "And I must thank you. You have prevented a great catastrophe – you have my honor and my deepest gratitude."
Obi-Wan nodded and folded the cloth in his hands, looking over his shoulder to the woman, Maridian, who was smiling at him softly. "It was my duty – any gentleman would have done the same."
Talor laugh was abrupt and most disheartening to him, "The same – my good man! No one in Talba would have done such a thing!" He shook his head and grabbed Obi-Wan's arm, helping him to his feet quickly, "Issik was right – you are not from here. Come," he gestured to Obi-Wan and scanned him over, "For your heroics I will see that you have new clothes, a decent meal, and a bath. Issik has told me you do not have much aside from what's on your back right this moment. "
Obi-Wan nodded, "Issik is an observant man,"
Talor chuckled again, "Of course he is – and a cheap one, too, I might add." He moved up the steps and motioned for Obi-Wan to follow, then stopped before Maridian. He grabbed her shoulders, "You are sure you are alright? I wouldn't think of letting you travel home after such an ordeal – I will send a holocall to your father immediately and tell him you will stay with Manashe for the night and return home at first light, escorted."
Maridian nodded and looked away, shifting her gaze to Obi-Wan for just a moment before looking back at Talor, "I am all right, Talor. Don't worry." She patted his shoulder, "I will stay the night, if you insist. It is too late to travel anyway ."
He nodded, cupped her cheeks in his hands, and kissed her forehead. "Of course. Stable your mount and come inside, my dear." He released her and turned to Obi-Wan, waving him inside. "Come, Ben. I may have something for you." He scanned Obi-Wan, gave him a curious look, and nodded. "Yes. Something indeed."
Obi-Wan followed him into the house, and stopped to watch the woman move down the stairs and lead the Eopie away across the sands and around the corner of the livery.