Here's the thing. Nothing belongs to me. If you want to know about anyone else but Ezra, go to "What Would Have Been" for the whole story. This is a branch off because it is going to be very interesting…

BTW, I write all guys perspective in second person and girls in first person.

Ezra Bridger (9 years old)

He lay, alone, in a desolate alley. The small boy curled up inside a cardboard box, near his childhood home. He hasn't left his town ever since the incident. He still hasn't forgotten, and he won't for a very long time.

There were only 3 things on his mind: find food, don't freeze to death, and find his parents. After two years, he could barely remember what they looked like. He didn't have anyone, anything. The Empire had taken it all away. He still remembered the night they came, and yet he didn't remember some of the sweetest memories of him and his parents. Why do good memories leave so easily?

He didn't want to remember. He wanted for it to all go away, to have never known another life. You can't miss what you never had. But he's had a cushy life, and now he must learn to survive on his own.

He hated the Empire, who took away all he had known. He hated the gangs that beat him up for the smallest of scraps. He hated the vendors, for cheating him out of what little money he had. Most of all, he hated himself. Why don't I ever fight back? He thought to himself. Why don't I grab something sharp and stab those guys in the gut? Why not punish them for all the pain and misery they've given me? Why don't I make my own rules, and become the most feared person in the whole EMPIRE?

He turned on his back, rocks digging into his flesh. Why? He sneered at himself. Because you're a coward. You'll never amount to anything, to anyone.

He tried to shut off the arguing voices in his head, and when he couldn't, he stood up and shook the dust off himself. He would go on a stroll.

Walking to the town center at night was probably the only way he could get food. The vendors were so wasteful with bruised or dirty fruit, and when a shipment came in like that, those were the nights got to eat. Provided the others kept away. He didn't know who lived here, or anyone else who was an orphan, who had to live on their own, like him. Orphan. He mentally spat the word out. It was a sad, harsh reality, one he had accepted as his own. When he got to the square, though, he could see signs of other people. There was nothing left.

He cursed himself for not coming sooner, and his anger formed a consciousness. It seemed that his heart took control of his body; his limbs were no longer under his control. Narrowing his eyes, he walked up to the nearest empty stall and stood. The air thickened around him, the movements, if any, around his slowing. All his focus was directed at the flimsy piece of wood.

"Yaaaaaaaaa!" He shouted, bringing his fist forward with more strength and speed than he thought he had. The wood splintered in his hands, and he watched in fascination as the splinters flew through the air, and the stall collapsed. He jumped backwards to avoid being caught by the debris, and stared in fascination at his hand, as if it might tell him answers.

A shuffle came from behind him. A normal human shouldn't have been able to hear it, they were sure, but the figure in the square seemed to notice.

"Is anyone there?" He shouted, his tiny voice echoing slightly off the stone walls. So it was a boy, not very old.

They emerged slowly from the shadows, drawing hand signals through the air. 3 more shuffles. The two people began to count. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6! They came out of the shadows, yelling at the top of their lungs. One grabbed Ezra's arm and twisted it behind his back; the other pulled his backpack away from him. Nine-year old Ezra stared in fear at his captors. They both wore masks, with only the eyes showing. They were not much taller than him, but the full black outfits they wore blended into the night, and Ezra wouldn't have even seen them had they not come straight out and attacked him.

The one with his backpack rifled through it, but didn't take anything. They both clapped 3 times at the same time, and nodded. They seemed to agree with each other. Ezra was extremely confused. Who were these people? What did they want? Why did they take him?

His arm was getting extremely uncomfortable, so he tried to shift it, but the person who caught his arm glared at him and held him tighter. They definitely knew what they were doing.

One began to fish in their backpack, and Ezra still wasn't sure if they were female or male. The person brought something that he couldn't make out in the dim light, and bound it around his hands. It nearly cut through his skin. Nylon, maybe, or metal.

They stood up, seemingly satisfied. Then the one that held his backpack put it on him and helped him up. This was definitely the nicer one, and he was determined to stick closer to this person.

They walked in silence for a while, neither side wanting to talk. Ezra's captors continued to hand signal each other, but it didn't look like they were mute. When they got to a bar that appeared to be closed for the night, they stopped. The pair let go of Ezra and began to pry open a sideboard. He could run; he had his backpack, his legs were free; his captors must not have been as professional as he thought, because they were letting him escape. That or they trusted him to stay. He didn't know why, but he stood his ground as the pair opened their custom-made entry way. The nicer one gestured at him to come in, and when he followed, he didn't see a bar.

This looked a lot like a basement, but unlike any he'd seen. There were shelves everywhere full of odd gadgets, trinkets, food, tools… Anything and everything. There was a whole lot of technology too, which was very uncommon on Lothal. He went back to his original theory: whoever these people were, they weren't messing around.

He realized that he couldn't see them anymore. He listened intently, hoping to find them by sound alone. He detected a faint murmur behind what he had thought was a closet door. He walked closer to it, his footsteps muffled through sheer will. As he got closer, he could make out bits of the conversation, in the voices now, finally.

"We… street rat… room…"

"He… live…day…"

Ezra was downright confused. The voices sounded young, naïve, feminine.

He must have let out a gasp, because the door opened in his face. He ducked back a few seconds before it happened, just as his captors showed their faces.

He was looking at a girls' room, though there wasn't much to distinguish it. Everything in here was in its original color, even the white sheets. They were a pair of girls, but definitely not an ordinary friendship. One looked Mandalorian, with her piercing hazel eyes and jet-black hair. It was maybe shoulder-length, but tied back in a messy ponytail. The other was obviously born on Lothal, with brown hair (Ash Blond, as he later learns), blue eyes and a whole lot of anger. They were obviously not expecting him to eavesdrop.

But then his heart constricted. Because he finally realized what they had said.

"He cannot live past daylight."

Here's a contest. If you give me a book recommendation, and I like it, I will write anything for any idea of yours. Anything. At. All. Doesn't even have to be about Star Wars. Anything.