Note: I'm not sure when I'll next be updating, because I have a lot of coursework to do over the next fortnight. But hopefully I'll still manage to update regularly.
The door of the Mandalorian settlement slid open and a man silently slipped out. He scanned the beach, making sure that there was no one who could witness him disappearing into the jungle. There were normally guards posted at the door, but not tonight. Everybody had been called from their normal tasks to attend Drystan's feast. The celebrations had almost died down now, although a couple of people still laughed and drank. For most people, the news of Melor's expulsion from the clan had killed the spirit of the event. The settlement seemed quiet but everyone was wide awake. Whispered conversations were being held in every dark corner, in every place where the words wouldn't reach Drystan's ears. Both Melor and Drystan were popular figures, and the clan was now split in two. There were those who supported Melor's expulsion and believed that Drystan had acted correctly. On the other hand were those who believed Melor to be more of an asset to them, who would rather see Drystan removed from his position of power if it meant that Melor could remain with them.
The man crossed the beach quickly, not wanting to remain too long in the open where there was a greater risk of being seen. Once he reached the edge of the jungle he began to prowl up and down the line of trees, looking carefully for a sign to tell him where Drystan had taken Melor. Eventually he found a flattened patch of grass and a few smears of blood on a nearby tree trunk. It was clear that this was where Drystan had entered the jungle, dragging an unconscious Melor behind him. The man followed the trail of flattened grass, straining his eyes in the darkness to make sure he didn't stray in the wrong direction. He followed the trail for almost an hour, the sky gradually growing lighter.
It came to an end at a break in the trees. In the middle of the clearing, hidden amongst the long grass, lay Melor. The man hurried over to him, falling to his knees at his side. He let out a growl of anger when he saw what Drystan had done. He had pulled Melor's hands behind his back and bound them with thick rope. His feet, too, had been tied together with the same rope. Instead of killing him himself, Drystan had let him helpless in the middle of a jungle teeming with vicious creatures. The scent of the blood trickling out of a cut on his forehead couldn't fail to attract rancors. Melor, completely unable to defend himself, wouldn't stand a chance.
Pulling a long knife from his belt, the man sawed and hacked at the ropes. They soon slithered off and Melor's limbs became limp. The man shook him but he didn't wake. When he shook him a second time he groaned, giving the man hope that there was still some life left in him. He slipped his arms under Melor and pulled him up. As he hauled him over his shoulder, Melor groaned again and came around.
"What…?" He croaked, struggling weakly.
"Be quiet." The man said. "I'm taking you somewhere safe."
Melor obeyed, falling silent and ending his struggles. Tightening his grip on him, the man began to run through the jungle.
Bastila sat cross legged on her bed, deep in meditation. A variety of objects were arrayed in front of her: a datapad, a belt, her lightsaber. As Mission watched, the datapad rose gently into the air and joined the other items rotating around Bastila. Mission nodded, impressed. She had insisted on staying with Bastila as she meditated, as she didn't trust the stubborn Jedi to stop before she exhausted herself. She had been at it for almost two hours and the strain was beginning to show. The colour had drained from her face, leaving her deathly pale, and the circles under her eyes were darker than ever.
Deciding that she'd worked enough for one day, Mission pushed herself out of her chair and approached the bed. She knelt next to Bastila and shook her shoulder gently. Bastila's eyes flew open and the floating objects crashed down to the floor. Mission shrieked and threw up her arms, narrowly missing being hit on the head by a falling datapad. Bastila chuckled.
"Sorry, Mission, I wasn't expecting that."
"It's okay." Mission said as she peered upwards, checking that she wasn't going to be injured by a flying plate or book. Ascertaining that she was now safe, she turned her eyes to Bastila and made her voice stern. "It's time you stopped, you'll wear yourself out."
Bastila shrugged. "Alright."
Mission blinked, shocked. She didn't know what to say. Bastila doing something that was good for her? Bastila putting herself first for once? Mission had expected her to argue, to put up a fight. She didn't expect her to agree without so much as a word of protest. Bastila swung her legs off the bed and got to her feet. She grabbed her lightsaber, grinned at Mission and headed towards the door.
Mission recovered quickly and hopped off the bed. "Wait a second! Where are you going with that thing?"
"That thing?" Bastila gasped. "That thing is one of the finest weapons in the-"
"Bastila," Mission warned. "Don't change the subject. What are you doing?"
"Training." Bastila tried her best to look innocent.
"Training." Mission repeated slowly. Bastila nodded and smiled, then turned back to the door. "Wait!" Mission strode forwards and grabbed the lightsaber off her.
"Hey!"
"No training! It's bad enough you're exhausting yourself with all this meditating, you're not prancing around the ship waving a lightsaber."
"Prancing! I do not pra-"
"No, you're not going to do any prancing because I won't let you." Mission grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shove towards the bed. "You're going to lie down and get some rest."
"But-"
"No arguments!" Mission turned and hurried out of the room before Bastila could say anything else. Bastila glowered at the door. Several seconds later there was a loud thump in the corridor and Mission shrieked. Bastila smiled and flopped down onto the bed. When Carth saw Mission a few moments later she was muttering to herself and rubbing her backside. He raised his eyebrows at her, but before he could say anything she mumbled "Don't ask." and shuffled out of the room.
Jana sat next to Revan, staring down at the floor. She hadn't left the room since last night. She had stayed dutifully at her side taking care of her, although there wasn't that much that she could do. Revan's cuts and bruises were healing at an amazing speed, and she no longer bled. Despite this Jana didn't remove her bandages; she wanted her to appeal frailer than she was if her father came into the room. Her main job was to stop Revan from doing herself any more damage. If she wasn't heavily sedated she thrashed about in her sleep, and more than once she'd almost fallen off the bed.
When Jana was absolutely sure that no one was near, she'd lean close to Revan and whisper in her ear. "Don't wake up. Don't wake up. Don't wake up." It had become a sort of mantra for her. When the possibilities of what could have befallen Melor threatened to overwhelm her, repeating the same three words offered a strange kind of comfort. It made her feel better to think that she was doing something, no matter how small, to protect someone from Drystan.
The door slid open and Jana sprang to her feet, tensing immediately. She had expected to see her father but it was only Keir. Keir was one of the clan's stronger warriors who had recently been allocated the task of giving the older children their initial training. Jana knew him because he was Melor's closest friend, and one of the only people to know about their secret relationship. She began to ask him what he wanted but he placed a silencing finger on his lips and quietly shut the door. He looked around the room cautiously.
"Are we alone?" He murmured.
"Yes, apart from her." Jana jerked her head towards the unconscious Revan.
"Good." Keir seemed to relax slightly. He grabbed Jana by the elbow and dragged her as far away from the door as possible. "I can't stay long, and no one can know I was here, but there's something I need to tell you."
He paused and cocked his head, listening for any sounds coming from the passageway. Jana looked up at him, waiting. "I went out into the jungle a while before dawn. I found Melor."
Jana gasped. "Is he…?" Her sentence hung unfinished in the air.
"Alive? Yes." He nodded. "He was shaken and confused when I first found him, but once I got him somewhere safe he returned to normal."
"Where is he?"
"Hiding in the jungle."
Jana gnawed on her bottom lip anxiously. "What are we going to do?" Her voice sounded desperate.
"Melor has an idea, but we'll need your-" He broke off suddenly, falling silent. "Did you hear that?" He asked, his eyes riveted to the door.
"I didn't hear anything. Now what about Melor?"
Keir shook his head. "Not now. I shouldn't have come here during the daytime, it was stupid of me." He released Jana and began to back away.
"But I need to know-"
"Not now. Be patient. I'll be back when it's safer." He retreated quickly, leaving Jana staring desperately after him.
Revan was trapped. She hung somewhere between sleeping and waking, aware of everything that was going on around her but unable to move her body properly. Every time she gained some measure of control over her body something pricked her skin, and a great lethargy stole over her, weighing her down. She knew that something had changed. The voices around her no longer spoke Rakatan; they were Mandalorian. She also had a memory of being picked up and moved, of feeling fresh air against her face.
The pain that had kept her comatose for so long was now receding. She knew that her body was now successfully healing itself. Although she was desperate to escape her prison, a part of her was terrified of what she'd find when she woke. Throughout the day there was a constant presence at her side, a soft female voice warning her not to wake.
