Lost and Found
They searched, dusk falling about. How could a boy of five years lose himself so thoroughly in a place where the next hill was as clear as the one he stood on?
Far too easily.
The whole neighborhood had come together when Owen Lars had asked for help to find his boy. The Skywalker boy, his brother's son, or at least that's what everyone thought. No one asked questions here, and fewer answered them. Family secrets remained with the family.
Except when a family member had gone missing. Then everyone knew.
And so they searched.
It had been twelve hours since they had been called out. The second sun was already threatening to slip behind the nearest hill, and young Luke was still missing. No one spoke the thoughts that filled their heads – that he must be wounded, hopelessly lost, maybe even dead at the hand of desert raiders. They simply remained.
Finally Owen himself called them to a halt. "It's no use," he said, his voice filled with regret. "It's too dark to see anything out here. We can try again in the morning."
Everyone knew how hard this must be on him – to lose first a mother, then a son to the harsh deserts of Tatooine. Slowly, they slipped away to their homes. Only Keila remained.
The seven year old hesitated after her father had walked away, wondering if there was anything else she could do. Owen and Beru hadn't noticed her presence, simply holding each other and gazing out at the desert.
Then something moved.
Her breath caught in her throat, her vivid imagination rapidly painting the sight with danger. Was it a Tusken Raider? Was it little Luke? Was it a band of pirates who had kidnapped the little boy and wanted another one?
As it approached, however, it was obvious it was none of these.
The figure was blurred, steadily approaching the homestead. As he grew nearer she could see it was swathed in brown cloth, and walking as though it carried a burden. A few steps more and she could see he was human.
The old hermit, she realized, mind rapidly filled with curiosity. What's he doing here? After her brother had discovered him three years ago, she had been unfailingly fascinated with him. "Probably been here for years," her brother had announced cheerfully between mouthfuls at the family meal that night. "Old hermit, doesn't look like he's ever moved." Their father had replied with typical desert wisdom – "Mind your own business and leave him to his."
But Keila was still curious.
The hermit had stopped at the edge of the yard, just outside the security fence. Beru slowly slipped out from under Owen's arm and walked out toward him, stopping mere feet away.
The figure slipped his brown cloak from around his arms, revealing a small boy. Luke! Keila realized excitedly, peeking out from behind the vaporator she had chosen as her hiding place. Beru reached out and the hermit carefully reached out in return to place him in her arms.
Luke seemed to wake up then, looking up anxiously at the man and grabbing his sleeve as he turned to walk away. "Don't leave," he begged, covering a yawn with one small hand before looking up pleadingly at him.
The hermit smiled softly, then told him in a gentle tone, "I'll never be far away, young one." Then he turned away, and soon vanished over the hills.
"Keila!" she heard her father call, and turned hastily away, only sneaking one last glance over her shoulder. Owen had taken Luke from Beru and both were looking the direction the man had gone.
Keila turned and hurried after her father, thoughts flowing rapidly through her mind. That was a Core-world accent, he was no hermit. Her father did business with Core-worlders. Maybe the hermit was a prince in exile, or a Rebel spy.
Or – she paused briefly and giggled at the absurdity of the thought – he could be a Jedi.
Keila hurried after her father to tell him Luke was found.