***Disclaimer: I don't own anything, nor am I making any money off of this. Everything belongs to George Lucas, except for my own characters and anything else I've created.
Child of Secrets
Prologue: Shadows
The small village stood out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by brush and under wood. By day it was concealed from the naked eye by blending in with its surroundings: the thatched roofs of the numerous circular huts were scattered with vines and brush, a perfect symphony of local fauna. By night, not a single twinkle of light could be seen from within the huts thanks to the intricate and expertly woven walls of tree bark. Even the large hill that overlooked the village did not give away its presence.
Sitting inside one of these huts was a little girl of just over three standard years. She sat in the common area of her home, immersed in the play that so often entranced little girls: dolls. She had many of them scattered about her as she sat in front of the crackling fire, and was now trying to decide which doll would make the perfect princess for her next bout of imagination.
After a few minutes of contemplation, she suddenly remembered the beautiful tree bark doll her Baba had given her just days ago. He had made it himself, pounding and wearing down the bark until it had dried in the sun into a medium sized piece of soft material. Then he had sewn it into a doll's head and body, with cute little arms and legs, and stuffed it with softest goose feathers in the village.
But where was it now? Puzzled, the little girl looked around and realized it was not among the pile she had. She thought harder and remembered that it was sitting on her bed in the next room. With new purpose, the little girl strode over to the hallway that broke off into different parts of her home. As she approached the hallway, she could hear the hushed voices of her parents. They had secluded themselves in the kitchen area ever since Baba had come barging into their common area.
The little girl paused for a moment, her young ears straining to hear what was being said. Although she could not hear anything intelligible, she knew that the anxiety and worry that was emanating from behind the door concerned her. It was her, she knew, that her parents and Baba were concerned about, but she didn't know why.
When the hushed voices suddenly stopped, the little girl carefully backed away from the door. It wouldn't be good if they found her listening; her parents would be disappointed, she was sure. She quietly turned on her heel and headed in the opposite direction, headed for her room. She needed her doll.
A sudden scream pierced the night sky, followed by something cracking then breaking through. Instinctively, the little girl ran for her bedroom and crawled behind the large pile of unfinished laundry that sat in a dark corner of her room. She heard a familiar snap and hiss, then the hurried footsteps towards her room. From her hiding spot, she saw her mother and Baba enter the room and quickly shut the door. Baba began to barricade the door with the sparse furniture that was in her room, while her mother frantically looked around.
"Where is she?" her mother demanded in their native tongue, "Where is my daughter? Daughter? Are you in here?" She ran back and forth, searching.
The little girl wanted to answer her mother, but her instincts told her not to. She was safe where she was now and if she hoped to remain that way from her unseen threat, she would have to keep quiet. And so she did.
She was quiet when she saw her bedroom door explode into a million pieces, throwing her mother and Baba against the wall. And, she was definitely quiet when the dark shadows in the shape of men slithered into her room and demanded, "Where is the child?" She was also quiet when her Mama defiantly told the men that she would die before allowing such filth to touch her daughter, and did not make a peep when one of the men leapt forward and struck her mother down. She did not cry, but merely watched as Baba then stepped forward and struck the other man with his sword, only to be run through at the stomach. She watched with horror-filled eyes as Baba fell to the floor and lay so still, but she still did not make a sound.
The two shadows now surveyed the room, searching. The little girl knew it was she they searched for and that scared her more than anything. She noiselessly breathed in through her nose, and then exhaled just as silently through her mouth. Her thumping heart began to slow to a calm and steady beat and she sat there, waiting.
Finally, the shadows left and the little girl counted to a hundred before emerging from her secret spot. Slowly, she approached the bodies of her mother and Baba, quietly, as if they were merely sleeping and she didn't want to wake them. She kneeled beside her mother's body, and gently brushed her long, midnight black hair away from her face. Her eyes were closed and she looked peaceful, which calmed the daughter's heart even more. The little one gently tucked a silken strand behind the older woman's hair, her small fingers lightly brushing the heart-shaped birthmark that lay hidden behind the ear.
The little girl softly smiled as she looked at that birthmark, remembering the explanation Mama had given her when she'd asked what it was. "It's a reminder of when you were born," she'd said, "It reminds me of the special gift your father gave to me: you." She touched it once more, then bent down to kiss her mother softly on the forehead. It was a kiss of farewell, because she knew she would not see them again. Her instincts were screaming at her to run, but she needed to say good-bye.
She rose and moved to do the same to her Baba, but was suddenly snatched from behind. As she was roughly picked off her feet, a hand deftly clamped over her mouth, muffling the scream that rose in her throat. Struggling against her captor, the little girl suddenly twisted around, allowing her a full view of the one who held her against her will.
She screamed then and did not stop, even when the man of shadows laughed darkly and carried her away.