Mealtime traditions are among the most important for the Ka'andesi. Meals are when the work of the day can be put aside. They are a time for sharing news and for sharing each other.
—Reflections on the Ka'andesi Home Life, by Inalia Kenobi, Chronicler of the Ch'lliear
Giggling, Ierie and I dashed through the wide, lemon-tiled kitchen, skirting my mother on either side as we ran for the 'fresher at the end of the hall. Ierie pulled both faucet-handles forward and we shoved our hands into the sink basin, fighting amiably over the single bar of soap until our hands were passably clean.
"Are you ever going to get a sonic sink like normal people?" Ierei asked as she stepped back and yanked a towel off the rack behind us. Faorrins didn't like washing with water when it could be avoided. Water left their fur a matted mess and it was difficult for them to dry themselves. More importantly, the smell of wet wolf was so unpleasant that even my mother would sometimes let Ierie skip washing before meals if we weren't particularly dirty.
"Only the desert clan uses those," I reminded her, ducking my head to scoop a handful of water on my neck. I'd learned that if I didn't scrub my face and neck until they were red, the adults would only send me back again, further delaying my meal.
"I was at Miri Deccol's house last week when my father went into the city, and they have them," Ierei told me.
"They're practically outclan anyway," I said as I finished washing. I shut off the water and reached back for the towel in Ierei's hand. She gave it to me, but when I brought it near my face, I saw that the whole thing was covered in fur. Turning, I held it up for her to look at.
"What?" she blinked.
"Nevermind," I sighed, balling up the towel. By the time I had chucked it down the chute, Ierie was already racing back to the kitchen. I ran after her, the soles of my boots pounding heavily against the worn wood floor. She beat me to the table anyway, and was already sliding to her knees in front of it when I came through the doorway. Without thinking, I dropped to the floor and skidded across the tiles. The maneuver brought me to a halt roughly at the same time that Ierie had settled herself, and I stuck out my tongue at her in satisfaction.
"Owen," my mother chided automatically.
I quickly pulling my tongue back into my mouth and mumbled an apology that was half in Ka'andesi the way I had spoken to my father outside, "Sorry, Uadi."
Mom shook her head, but there was a smile in her eyes.
"It wasn't all that long ago that we were pulling that trick, Sajani," remarked my aunt as she and Uncle Dannik entered from the interior of the compound. I was a little surprised that they were still here. Usually, if Ierei and I were late to lunch, they finished their meals and went back to work. Our homestead wasn't a working farm anymore—it hadn't been since my grandparents died—but Aunt Bee was the ranking Weaver in our district. She was always making medicines or out taking care of the sick and injured. Dad and Uncle Dannik had a machine shop behind the main compound where they fixed everything from droids to farm equipment to airspeeders. As Clan Chronicler, my mother had a little more time, but it was rare for everyone to linger at midday like this.
"Hush, Bee," Mom laughed softly, drawing my attention back to the conversation at hand. Ierei and I both turned toward my aunt, eager to hear more. I wasn't sure that I could really imagine my mother sliding across the kitchen floor on her knees.
Aunt Bee waved her hand dismissively at Mom, then swept her gaze over Ierei and I as she lowered herself to the floor. "Well, it was a little different. Owen's grandmother used to put the table up when weren't eating. You know, the way the clans used to in the travelling days. Well, Sajani could run in from the 'fresher and slide clear across the kitchen to the other side."
"Wow, Mom!" I cried in amazement.
"Will you show us, Aunt Sajani?" pleaded Ierei.
"No, I will not," my mother laughed.
"Come on, Sajani," Uncle Dannik joked as he joined the group at the table. "I'd pay to see that."
"I'll double whatever you're paying," Dad added.
"I'm sure you will," Mom sighed good-naturedly. Then without further comment, she picked up the oval-shaped loaf of bread from the center of the table, broke it, and passed one half to my father and the other to Aunt Bee.
Conversation lulled for a few minutes as my aunt murmured a soft prayer to thank the land that fed us and the Force that sustained us. Then she and Dad tore off pieces of the bread and placed them back on my mother's plate before taking some for themselves.
"Who has news?" asked Mom as the bread made its way around to Ierei and I.
"We do!" I exclaimed, wanting a chance to tell about the hawk before the grown-ups started trading whatever boring stories they had to share today. Ierei nodded in emphatic agreement. My parents shared an odd, quiet laugh, and we both frowned at them.
"All right, Owen, you first," Dad said with unusual gravity.
"We found a pair of nesting hawks—" I began.
"The big ones," added Ierei, then she looked at me and wrinkled her nose. "What do you call them?"
"Ben'ya in our clan," I said, frowning thoughtfully. "I don't know what the other clans say."
Mom and Aunt Bee exchanged significant looks. Then Mom told us softly, "All the clans call them Ben'ya. We brought them with us from the Unknown Regions."
"Where were they, Owen?" my aunt asked in a tone she only used when she was acting as a Weaver.
I gave her the location as precisely as I could remember. She nodded crisply, needing only a moment or two to remember the particular homestead I mentioned. Then she asked, "Did you look in the nest?"
"Yes, Ayadi, but we did everything the way you showed us," I replied.
"That's what took us so long getting back for lunch," added Ierei.
"Were there eggs?" Aunt Bee asked.
"Only one…" I bit my lip as the adults began to exchange glances. "What?"
"It's a good omen, isn't it Bee?" my father asked. I felt my eyes widen at the question. I shot a look at Ierei and saw that she had cocked her head to one side in confusion. My father liked the clan legends because they were good stories, but he didn't believe in omens the way that a lot of the old Ka'andesi did. Why would he care about something like that?
"A strong one," replied Aunt Bee, reaching squeeze my mother's arm.
That wasn't quite the same thing, but Mom smiled. She seemed happy with the answer, and Dad visibly relaxed. So, why did I suddenly feel so uncomfortable? What were they talking about anyway?
"Omen for what?" I asked.
"We have news, too, Owen," Mom told me.
"Okay…?"
"Son, you're going to be a brother soon," she said simply. And my slow, quiet existence crumbled and fell out from under me. I had no idea yet how much Ben would change me—change my life and the way I saw the galaxy—but even then I understood enough to realize that nothing in my house was ever going to be the way it had been a moment ago.
