"What's this? What happened!"

"Found on a raid, D'agri's doing."

Anakin felt himself being exchanged from one hold to another, this time, a little more gently, and whoever held him, began to walk, slowly, with him, guiding him along carefully through the dimly lit corridors, he drifted in and out of a dreary subconscious state, not quite sure half of the time as to whether he was walking, or floating, dreaming, or not. A distant voice spoke above the void in his mind.

"The other seemed much better off than this one, the poor thing can barely stand."

"You'll see to that will you?"

A silence, the creek of a wooden door, and Anakin felt himself being gently eased down onto a small, soft, bed, in a spasm of agony, he desperately tried to push himself off his burning back and onto his side, whoever it was who tended him, made a soft shushing sound and tenderly helped him onto his side.

"His back's a mess, you will want to have that seen to before gets any worse.

"I'm not sure how much I can do for him captain, it's not our way to leave our doors wide open to anyone who stumbles into trouble, we are not a hostel."

"Come on, look at him, he needs help, help you can offer, I brought them here because I knew they'd be safe, they're Jedi, even if that blasted tribe won't look for them somebody else will, they have something that D'agri wants and what he wants, he tends to get, all I ask is that you at least get the pair of them back on their feet and off this planet, I somehow doubt they're meant to be here anyhow."

Another silence followed, and Anakin was struggling to stay conscious, the room was warm, not uncomfortable, or irritating, like the blistering Jungle outside, but comforting, and soft, and it beckoned for him to give in to his own physical needs, to relax and let himself drift into the oblivion he craved, he knew not who stood above him, who it was who were seemingly in heated disagreement about his and Obi-Wan's fate, but whatever would happen, would happen, and he found himself in a state of complete acceptance, either that, or profound indifference. One of the pair, the woman, breathed a deep and tired sigh.

"Fine, they'll be cared for, but I beg of you not to breathe a word of this to anyone outside the sacred ground. For both ours and the Jedi's sakes, if the wrong word reaches the wrong ears-"

"I know," The male, presumably the one she'd addressed as Captain, interjected. "It'll be fine, trust us." Footsteps sounded until the soft creaking of the door, indicated the captain had left. Leaving Anakin and the woman, completely alone. 'sacred ground'? Anakin mused, where in all of the galaxy's name had they ended up now? A soft scrape sounded as a chair was pulled along the cool marble floor, the woman placed the chair at his side and sat down, she rested a hand on his side, and Anakin felt his body tense, when had he become so twitchy? Not an aspect of himself he much admired right now. The silence stretched on, and the woman's small hand kept it's place on his side, it's gentle touch warming the aching skin beneath it. Eventually, she spoke, the disruption almost making Anakin jump.

"You breathe hard little one, relax now, no harm will come to you here." Her voice was soft, quiet and soothing, warmth radiated from her without her moving so much as a muscle, Anakin's body loosened, and the hand slid from his ribs to the deep and infected lacerations on his back. He shuddered and whimpered quietly, mentally kicking himself for his own weakness, as the woman's touch grazed across the burning wounds, softly resting on the right side of his back, letting the coolness of her palm sooth the heat of his flesh, Anakin tried to keep his rasping breath even, but struggled in the feat, despite the woman's tenderness, he could not seem to stem the now soaring agony in his back, he gasped for breath, grasping onto a small wisp on consciousness of the little he had left in him. The woman removed her hand, and replaced it on his forehead.

"Shhh young Jedi, the pain is good, your body is healing." He very much doubted that, as he registered that he grew progressively weaker, but he let her calming words fill his subconscious and clung onto her serene presence like a raft, she bent lower and quietened her voice to a whisper.

"I'll be back in a moment."

The door squeaked closed, and she left him to his fevered thoughts.


Obi-Wan's head ached, and he felt as though he was still bouncing around in the back of that oh-so primitive cart, jolting this way and that. He was vaguely aware that he was laying on something soft, and cool, and that his tunic had been removed, a cool breeze blew in from a small window, comforting his burnt and stinging skin. Where was he, what was happening, and where in the blazes was Anakin! He turned onto his side to get a better view of the room in which he lay, it was small, circular, and dimly lit, a small table sat beside the head of his cot, atop it at a half empty pitcher of water, and a small cup, it seemed to have been used, and Obi-Wan assumed they'd gottnen some water into him while he'd been unconscious.

The only thing that was troubling him was, whowere 'they'? and why had he been unconscious in the first place? He sighed, it didn't matter now anyway, he was obviously being taken good care of, but what of his apprentice, where was he, was he safe, was he even alive? No, he had to be alive, even without his force-enhanced senses he would know if Anakin was anything but.

The door was pushed open, and a young woman, about 20 or 30, and bearing a small bottle of something or other,edged slowly into the room, she placed her carryings down onto the bedside table before realizing that her patient was now awake. She jumped, startled.

"Oh, you're awake." Obi-Wan didn't answer, not wanting to contribute to the painstakingly obvious. The woman sat down on the wooden stool beside the bed, and studied Obi-Wan for a few moments with her piercing gaze before speaking again.

"How do you feel." He wasn't really sure, truthfully, he hadn't really realized he'd been ill, or injured in anyway at all, though he assumed he'd never really been in any position to tell.

" Much stronger, thank you." The woman nodded and smiled. Before laying the back of her hand gently against his cheek, the rested her palm on his forehead.

"You had quite a battle with heat-stroke, you were completely exhausted when they brought you in here, so you must have been fighting it for a few days." She removed her cool hand from his head. "You were dehydrated as well, but you're doing very well now, all you need is a few days solid rest, and you should be fine." Obi-Wan nodded, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the woman's scrutiny, but letting it lie, right now, he was far more concerned with the welfare of another.

"Anakin, where's Anakin?" She looked perplexed.

"Who?" Obi-Wan pushed himself onto his elbow and looked the woman beside him hard in the eye.

"The young man with me, is he here, is he alright?" A look of realization spread over her youthful face, she nodded, and took the young Jedi master's shoulders gently in her hands.

"Lay back master Jedi you aren't strong enough yet." When he was laying back down on his cot, she answered his question in a subdued voice.

"He was in a lot worse shape than you when he was brought in."

"When was that."

"Maybe……3 or so hours ago, his wounds were infected and he was showing signs of fever, as well as heat exhaustion and dehydration." Obi-Wan nodded, poor Anakin, he always seemed to be on the receiving end of 'difficult' situations, always the one taking the worst.

"He's being well cared for, don't worry, it'll take a while for his back to fully heal, but he should be fine." Obi-Wan didn't like the way she'd emphasised the word 'should.'

"Is he your son?" She inquired, Obi-Wanlaughed, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, I don't know much of the Jedi or their ways, so you'll have to bear with me." The young woman murmured shyly. Obi-Wan shook his head again.

"Don't worry miss, it's hard to understand, he is, actually, as close to a son I'll ever have. He's my apprentice, my Padawan learner."

"So you're his teacher?"

"Yes, basically, though a master does quite a bit more than just teach, we're more guides, despite how profound that might seem, it's a pleasant way to learn I always found, instead of being preached at, you share experiences, learn together, friendship grows, and both master and Padawan learn from each other."

He didn't know quite why he was explaining every notion of the Jedi to this young woman, but she clearly seemed highly interested.

"It sounds a wonderful way to live."

"It's hard, but it's satisfying." She nodded and checked a small timepiece nailed to the wall. She stood, and bowed to the Obi-Wan. Who inclined his head in a courteous response.

"I must go, it's time for evening prayer, and do not fret for your young friend, I assure you, he is in safe hands, as are you." Her hand stretched out for the door handle, before she turned her head to regard her patient once more.

"May I ask your name?" Obi-Wan smiled.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, may I ask yours?" The young woman blushed slightly.

"Ketra."

"Good evening Ketra."

"I'll return later Master Kenobi, and I suggest you try to sleep in the meantime." Obi-wan nodded, and silence filled the room, as the door clicked shut.


Burning, fire, his body was a human furnace, whispering voices at his bedside sounded like drums in his temples, touches on his exposed skin that intended to sooth; tore agony into his body time and time again, as if each touch was lined with a burning acid, searing and tearing at his skin. He let out a pitiful cry, and the younger woman at his side turned to face the two elders who were busy filling a small basin with cold water, and fetching fresh cloths from over the small fire smouldering in the corner of the room.

"He won't calm."

One woman brought over the basin, and sat it down on a table beside the writhing man's bed. She was somewhere in her early 60's, and her weathered and lined face creased with sympathy and pity for the poor boy.

"He's in the grip of fever now, he won't calm for some time." The second woman, a decade or so younger than the other brought over the small pile of cloths from the fire, and placed them beside the basin. The older woman nodded towards the boy.

"We need to turn him on his front, so we can clean his back properly." Anakin drifted to and from oblivion, faintly registering the soft voice whispering in his ear, it sounded familiar, it was the woman who'd been with him earlier, either he had been dreaming, and was still, or this painful, agonizing reality, was his own reality.

"Can you move? Try, try and shift onto your front lad, we'll help you." Exhausted, burning, he tried, Anakin locked his shoulders to keep himself steady, each tiny movement spiked stabs of pain into his back and shoulders, several hands had a gentle but firm hold of him, coaxing him slowly onto his stomach.

"Gently now, gently." A different voice, but nonetheless friendly, a cool hand was placed on his abdomen as he was carefully laid down on his front, slipping away from beneath him once he was lying flat. A small gasp arose from one of the woman beside him. Anakin realized he must have looked a fair mess.

"Oh the poor boy."

"Barbaric." another concurred, the elder woman turned to the younger two.

"Marla, I need you to fetch a role of bandages, make sure they are clean, and Hyra, fetch some felda-weed, honey, didra milk and baskly, can you remember all that? We need to make a poultice for his back."

Both women nodded, and hurriedly exited the room to carry out their assigned errands, the old woman quietly turned back to the young man in her charge, who was now breathing hard and fast, shuddering at each exhaled breath.

"Let's see if we can't clean you up some, eh?" She took her place on the small chair beside him, and soaked a cloth in the basin of water. She wrung it out, she watched the young man's face twitch at the sharp sound of the tinkling water.

"Lie still now." She commanded gently, and as softly as she could, pressed the drenched cloth against his bloodied and beaten back. He instantly recoiled in pain, and a soft moan escaped his dry throat. The woman bit back the rush of guilt she felt, she certainly didn't want to bring this young man anymore pain than he was already in, but the cool bath would do him good, and she gently began to sponge down his stinging back with the dripping cloth. His moans and cries of pain, shrank and withdrew to soft pained mews as time drew on, his strength failing him, and the darkness claiming him. She managed to wipe most of the dried blood away from the wounds, and cleared away the dirt and grime visible on his sore back, she frowned at what she saw, dozens of deep, red lashes marked the whole of his back from his shoulders to his trouser line by his kidneys, the infection had set in, and dried, dirt stained blood crusted against the painful openings. The woman continued to coax away the grime, it was an appalling sight, the boy must've been in terrible pain, but he was deeply unconscious now, his breathing softer, and steadier, it'll be easier to tend to him now. She turned her head as the young girl, Marla, re-entered the room, placing a role of clean, white woollen bandages down on the bedside table obediently.

"Thank you, good girl." Marla nodded, and regarded the boy who lay motionless now, twitching occasionally when the cloth with which the elder bathed him, rubbed painfully against his wounds.

"How is he fairing?"

"He's asleep now. Hopefully he'll stay that way for a while, I don't want to have to put him through so much pain again. It's distressing you know, seeing a child cry out whenever you try to tend him. He shouldn't have to experience that." The girl nodded, and only moments later, Hyra appeared through the door, with the basket of ingredients The elder had requested.

"Thank you Hyra, put them over there." She indicated the work table by the hearth fire in the corner, and the woman quietly obeyed. The elder replaced the now blood soaked cloth back into the basin of water.

"There, that'll do for now, Marla, see if you can't get him back onto his side while Hyra and I make the poultice." The young woman nodded, and bent lower beside the wounded frame of the man. Gently placing her hands on his sides, she heaved him over, feeling his muscles tense and his body stiffen as he tried to help her. Without much fuss, he was lying soundly on his side once more, gingerly, Marla stroked his short dark blonde hair, speaking to him softly, about nothing in particular, just hoping silently that a presence would bring him some comfort. He writhed slowly and groaned. A soft murmur sounded from his otherwise stilled form.

"Master."

The elder spun round from her work.

"What did he say?"

Marla could merely shrug, it wasn't long before he whimpered the name again, more loudly this time, struggling for movement.

"Master!" Marla held his shoulders and made to sooth his fevered cries.

"Hush, young Jedi hush, you'll be with your master soon, it's alright." The young man in her arms continued to writhe weakly, crying out incoherent and detached words, names and places she was not familiar with.

"He's probably having a nightmare, let him be now." Reluctant, Marla pulled way, not wanting to have to let this boy suffer alone, crying out and pleading to nothingness, burning and writhing uncomforted and unaided, no one deserved that. But abiding her elder's command, she stood, and left his side. The smell of the balm Hyra and the elder were making wafted over to the opposite end of the room, sweet-smelling and pure. The elder wiped her hands on her long cream coloured habit.

"There now, we should lay it on him when he's quieter, when he's relaxed a bit, until then, we should head to evening prayer." Hyra nodded, bowed, and made her way back towards the door, casting one swift look back towards the injured Jedi, then leaving.

"Marla, I want you to stay and keep an eye on the boy, make sure you keep him cool and as still as possible. We'll return in one hour."

"Yes Ma'am." Marla bowed to her elder, before the small, elderly, but elegant woman made swiftly to leave the warm room.

Marla returned to the young man's side, who tossed and turned in his feverish unrest, she lay her hand on his belly, and hushed him, after several long minutes, he quietened, and Marla leant back in her chair. This would probably be a long night. But it would probably be even longer for the poor boy, shivering on the cot, crying outdespairingly for his master.