Crouched low with the younglings, Obi-Wan held a finger to his lips as the council room door hissed open. They nodded at him solemnly, their fear acrid in the Force like the smoke rising from the Temple but contained. He glanced around Master Yoda's chair—oh!—and stood. The younglings stared at him, little mouths agape.
"Master!" Obi-Wan strode towards him, "I didn't sense you. How did you get through?"
Relief flooded him. He had to force himself not to throw himself at him. So many jedi were dead, dying. But Anakin was still here. The younglings peered out, some of their tension dissipating, and inched into view. Anakin studied his padawan first then looked at the younglings. Obi-Wan cocked his head. Anakin's face was shadowed by his hood and even in front of him, he still had a hard time feeling him. Their bond was almost entirely closed off. Anakin thumbed on his lightsaber, blue light humming through the dark.
"Master?"