Chapter Six: The Musings of Breakfast
Nature prevails over adversity in ways the mind cannot begin to imagine.
Golden leaves rustled in the bright spring morning, their delicate, shimmering color not faded by the Barim Acid that permeated every aspect of the bucolic world.
The great, powdery white barked Marupa trees rose up and created a great carpet at the foot of Mount Reiki. The Vollen Forest reach for hundreds of kilometers in all directions, a perfect shield against progress and the destructive equipment of Nural Lord Tanchim's mining operations.
Wild natural had so far won out against the industry where the cultivated fields along the plains had fallen victim to the machine.
The Marupa's deep roots and tough trunks were a formidable adversary to the clearing equipment. The tall canopy and the dense wooded area also provided excellent protection for the Buhka rebels that hid in the lush forest.
Occopa birds sang tweeting and twittering, their purplish-gray feathers stark against the gold leaves. Their happy chirps filled the quiet morning air as a gentle breeze shifted through the woods. Crickets scratched out their songs, unseen in the heavy foliage as tiny fireflies skipped about just above the ground, their greenish glow dulled by the day.
Thin blades of pale green grass rose from the forest floor and crunched lightly under foot. The sounds of nature softened with warning of the approaching danger. The footfalls continued unabated.
A plaintive cry from an occopa protecting a nest full of hatchlings on a low hanging branch caught the attention of the quiet stalker. Sharp pointed ears perked up as a large garou stopped, the wild canid raised its black nose to the air and sniffed. Ignoring the rude bird and its appetizers, the garou continued toward its waiting prey.
Its sleek fur of varying gray shifted over tight muscles as the principle carnivore of the Vollen Forest closed the distance between her and breakfast. Its long snout gave to a long mouth full of sharp white teeth that could easily rend flesh from bone. Sharp claws lined all four feet, each designed to grab hold of its prey and not let go, ripping into the tender leaves that littered the ground.
The fearsome beast paused before an ancient tree whose trunk was nearly two meters in diameter. A flutter of brown caused the garou to start, but then it relaxed realizing the movement out of the corner of its black eye was just harmless material draped over a branch.
Slowly the canid approached the reddish-brown cloak gently folded over a heavy horizontal branch. It ducked and swayed avoiding the movements in the gentle breeze. It dared to get a little closer, a damp nose lightly tickled by the fibers in the material.
Careful not to snort and draw attention to its self, the garou withdrew and slowly trekked around the large tree, stopping when her prey came into sight. She crouched slightly, studying the motionless figure sitting against the sturdy trunk. Carefully, she sniffed the air, seeking any hints or warnings of danger about.
There was nothing but she and a little late morning breakfast in the immediate area.
A slight wiggle of muscles as the creature crouched down and prepared to spring.
"I would not do that," Breakfast said as a hand raised and waved in a simple motion. The ginger haired man did not look up from the data pad resting on his knee. His back pressed against a slight depression in the massive tree's trunk created almost a cradle.
The garou remained frozen in place.
"You are more likely to find a slow moving rabbe than get a bite out of me, my furry canid friend."
Slowly the garou stood, she looked at him a moment longer then wondered off into the brush.
For a moment, the quiet Jedi broke his gaze from the data reader and stared up into the canopy. Warm sunlight broke through the leaf-laden branches and danced in little spots of gold over his placid expression. These quiet mornings away from the bustle and noise of civilization reminded him of the peace he had felt in the Temple gardens in his youth.
Turning his complete attention back to the data pad, Obi-Wan studied the mess of blue notes that filled the smooth black screen. With light touches of fingertips, he moved the random bits of information–names, places, and dates–into a more organized format.
It would not last long as he was just going to add more random notes. Not only was it filled with mission profiles and other relevant data, it was littered with small notes on things that had quirked his imagination, strange dreams that needed meditation on, or things that had some meaning that he could not quite place found their way into the data pad.
This one small device was filled with thousands of pages of notes and the entire Jedi Code compressed into a high memory chip. Its worn edges reflected its use, but much care had gone into the keeping of the pad for it was very important to him.
It had been a gift, offered by Master Kollas, an elderly Aqualish who ran the Ebescene Temple on Turin IV. It had been given to help him upon his decision to return to the field after the several years spent there communing with the Force and recovering what severe injuries had taken away from him here on Selenoor Buhka seven years earlier.
He missed those days by the crystal clear waters of the lake that the small temple overlooked. Even now, the name of the lake slipped his memories. Scrolling through the data pad, he found his notes on the Ebescene Temple. Scanning over the lines of scrolling data, he quickly found what he was searching for: Lake Alluen.
Tiredly he rubbed his forehead then leaned back into the tree. He brushed over his beard and then tugged at the red gold strands in a habit he had strangely adopted as of late. He needed to get his head together, straighten out his thoughts and focus on the mission at hand. The safety and of Lady Anjah and Temue was paramount.
Besides, the Jedi High Council had offered another incentive for completing this mission; they were allowing him to go home once his duties on Selenoor Buhka were complete.
He smiled at the thought. Home.
There had been trepidation when he had stared into the holographic images of the twelve members of the Council and asked them to let him come home. The pause and silence had lasted a little longer than he had hoped but at least they had agreed.
Pale blue eyes followed the simple movement of his fingers as they gently brushed the silver edge of the reader.
He had asked so many times over the years and was so rejected that he had grown accustomed to the denials. All the long missions that had kept him cut off from the only home he knew were taking their toll on him and he hoped that the masters had seen it as well.
Certainly they did, otherwise they would not accepted his request.
His heart ached from missing his home and friends for so long. How many of his friends had been knighted? Where any of them at the Temple? A few friendly, recognizable faces would be greatly appreciated upon his return. He would even be willing to go to the healing center to see Bant, if she was there.
Yes, he could not wait to return to the Temple, to go home.
Rising smoothly to he feet, paused long enough to carefully return the data reader to the protected folds of his tunic, then walked around the tree to where his cloak waited. He would return to Coruscant for the first time in many years, far less than he imagined but that is what he has been told.
First though, there was the matter of his mission to tend to and the arrival of the second team to restart the negotiations. The team that he will eventually return to Coruscant with, he wondered who they were since the Council had neglected that bit of information.