Author's Note:
Nope, I didn't give up on this, I just started school back. As I said last chapter, this one is mostly from Din's 3rd person POV. I still am pretty sure that chapter 7 will be the last one, but there's a small chance I might have a chapter 8. I've very basically outlined the rest of the plot, so I know what I'm doing for once. Since I made you all wait, this is the longest chapter to date. This is a pretty whumpy chapter towards the end but I promise they will be rescued soon. Thank you for all the following this story has gained so quickly, and enjoy the action of Chapter 6! P.S. I do not have a lot of experience writing action/fights but I did my best
After what may have been one of the longest hours of his life, Tranon's sun finally began to rise over the horizon and wash the mountainous landscape in dim golden light. True to his word, Din had kept close vigil of the prowling anoobas in the nearby bushes while Cara got her very much deserved sleep. The constant sounds of the lethal predators gathered in unnervingly close proximity had kept him torturously on edge for the past hour or more. Although that fear, along with the nagging discomfort of his multiple injuries, had helped him keep his promise that he would keep watch. He hated the weakness of being hurt; despite the fact that he'd slept for about ten of the last thirteen hours, he was so tired. It wasn't the natural kind of fatigue that he'd often felt after neglecting sleep for days on end during bounty hunting jobs. It was the kind that was so deep he felt it all the way into his bones that continuously tempted him to return to the blissful darkness of sleep even though he should be well-rested.
So for the past hour he'd relentlessly resisted the temptation to succumb to the welcoming oblivion and kept his eyes peeled for any threatening moves from the pack of anoobas. The canines hadn't made any move to attack the small camp all night, and now that the sun was peeking over the hills they'd quieted down significantly, much to his relief.
His eyes wandered to a ration pack lying on the grass, making him finally realize that the annoying pain in his middle wasn't just from his battered rib cage; he hadn't eaten in almost two standard days.
First confirming that Cara was still sound asleep, Din managed to reach his desired pack of rations before carefully slipping his helmet over his head. He wasn't sure why he cared anymore; after all, Cara had seen him; but for some reason he still clung to the Way, and, more specifically, his anonymity. Only five beings in the galaxy knew what he looked like now: Cara Dune, Koska Reeves, Bo-Katan Kryze, Fennec Shand, and Migs Mayfeld. He decided he'd rather keep it that way, although perhaps he'd open up to Greef one day. Nevertheless, he didn't exactly want to be known by his face or be recognizable by his facial features.
A small huff of slight amusement escaped his lips as he thought back to Morak, when he'd been awkwardly fumbling for a response to the suspicious imperial officer Valin Hess' questioning until Mayfeld had flawlessly played his part. Din had been so unsure of himself without a helmet that his brain failed to formulate a reasonable lie when Hess had asked for his name, but luckily Mayfeld quickly and convincingly gave him one: Brown Eyes. It was the first time Din had ever been described by his appearance, and he hoped it would be the last.
He was halfway through eating his tasteless ration pack when his stomach decided to roll nauseously. Dreading the thought of losing what little nutrients he'd gained, Din folded the paper container and saved the other half for later. With a tired sigh, he ran his gloved hand through his curly brown hair, pleased when he didn't feel any dried blood. The shining silver helm sitting at his side had saved him from many a bad head injury, with the exception of the E-Webb explosion on Nevarro. In that instance the helmet had saved his life, but the fracture in his skull had been so severe that he'd suffered excruciating headaches for weeks afterward. He knew he'd been lucky to walk away with a fully functioning mind after such an ordeal.
Cara suddenly began shifting in her sleep, giving Din the incentive to slip his mask back over his head. The morning was young but certainly prevailing, its warm golden sunlight washing over the mountains and the grassy plains below them.
A mumble from Cara's direction caught his attention. "Awake?"
Din heard her hum in confirmation before she rolled over onto her other side to face him. "How long?" she asked him sleepily, not looking as though she'd gotten an adequate amount of rest.
"Only an hour or so. I'm surprised you didn't sleep longer," Din informed her. He would have let her sleep all through the morning and into the afternoon, although he doubted he would've made it that long without dozing off himself.
"Too restless to sleep for too long," she replied and sat up to stretch her legs.
Din shot her an incredulous look she couldn't see, both annoyed and touched by her concern for his safety. Leave it to Cara Dune to make herself sleep-deprived over her worry for an injured Mandalorian.
The rebel marshal stood up and grabbed a rather dirty looking jug of water off of the grass before offering it to him. He shook his head in declination before she began unscrewing the cap to take a drink herself. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore," he replied honestly. As long as he didn't move a muscle in his crippled leg, nothing was excruciatingly painful anymore. His once searing ribs now only ached dully unless he moved too much, and the burn on his shoulder was becoming little more than a nuisance.
Cara nodded before taking a swig of water, only to immediately make a disgusted face and spit it out onto the grass. "I guess this water is worse than I thought," she remarked distastefully, scrunching up her nose as she inspected it. "It's slimy with some kind of mold or something. We can't drink this."
"There's probably a stream close by," Din suggested, not very keen on drinking the brown-tinted water himself. He'd finished his small canteen of clean water overnight, and Cara had used most all of hers to treat his burn before she'd drank what little remained.
Cara seemed to consider it for a split second before she shook her head. "No. I can't leave you alone out here. You're defenseless."
"I can shoot a blaster, Cara," Din pointed out, trying not to let her mostly truthful statement irk him.
"Yes, but can you stand up?" she inquired of him with an eyebrow raised skeptically.
Din sighed and swallowed a groan of discomfort. He wasn't defenseless, per se, but he wasn't very capable of putting up a very good fight against anything either.
"The anoobas aren't going to come out in broad daylight. I'll be fine, Cara. You can go."
Cara let out a long exhale of annoyance at his stubbornness, well knowing Din would protest if she refused to go find drinkable water for them both. She knew his logic was sound, but the worry that gnawed at her heart was trying to make her ignore his sensible reasoning. Lucky for her, her experience as a soldier made her a more logical person than an emotional one.
Even still, she had a bad feeling about this.
"Fine," she relented. "But if I end up walking a mile without finding anything, I'm coming back."
Din nodded, satisfied. "I'll be waiting. Don't worry yourself over me, Marshal."
Cara let out a ghost of a laugh as she bent down to pick up her blaster and both of their empty canteens. "Easier said than done, buddy. But I'll try."
Din smiled under his helmet, and with a nod, she left.
MANDOMANMANDOMANDOMANDOMANDOMANDOMANDMANDOMANDOMANDOMANDOMANDOMANDO
Twenty minutes after Cara's departure, Din was dangerously close to falling asleep under Tranon's soothing warm sun when he was suddenly jerked awake by a growl from the nearby bushes, the same ominous sound that he had listened to all of last night.
Fearing the pack of anoobas was hungry enough to brave broad daylight, Din shot up to a sitting position and ignored his ribs' painful protest at such a sudden and quick movement. His concealed brown eyes scanned the shrubs as more growls joined the first. The former bounty hunter could practically feel the canines surrounding him, ready to pounce on their immobile prey. He considered attempting to stand up, but quickly decided that the effort would only advertise his weakness to his predators rather than make him seem threatening.
Knowing by instinct that an attack was imminent, Din slipped his blaster out of its holster and made sure his flamethrower and whip chord were at the ready. Unfortunately, he'd used the last of his whistling birds when he'd fought one of Gideon's dark troopers, so he couldn't simply fire a round and eliminate the entire pack of anoobas. And he'd left his amban rifle back on Nevarro, since it was difficult to easily carry around both his jet pack and the disintegrating rifle at the same time.
Based on the sounds and movements of the prowling creatures, he guessed that there were four in total. He'd been comfortable with four to one odds before, and he felt fairly confident that he could make it out of this relatively unscathed, the key word being 'relatively.'
Confirming that his blaster was charged, Din sat up as straight as he could and aimed the barrel of his IB-94 towards the bushes, waiting for the anoobas to reveal themselves. He saw a part of a long tooth poke out of the bushes in front of him, and as he turned to look around himself he saw three more from all sides of him. Hoping to perhaps frighten the creatures away, Din fired a shot towards the nearest hidden canine. A vicious snarl rather than a pained howl followed, indicating that he'd missed, and that his show of aggression had seemingly only made them angrier. Fantastic.
At last, all four predators stalked fully out of their hiding place, revealing their large, imposing figures armed with tooth and claw. Din instantly noticed that they were exceptionally thin and bony, with their hips jutting out of their tough skin and the ridges of their ribs visible under their spotted fur. It was no wonder that they were risking daylight to hunt.
Din focused on his breathing as he analyzed their plan of attack. It was unlikely that they would all pounce simultaneously; most pack creatures he'd encountered had one or two go in while the others came in only if needed. He'd fought one of these creatures before, and knew that they utilized their large tooth to tackle their target before using their jaws to bite or strangle their prey. He knew his helmet would make it extremely difficult for them to strangle him, and his beskar covered enough of his body that he was fairly sure he'd be able to block any bites they attempted. It was their numbers and the singular horn-like tooth jutting out of their chins that worried him the most, should he be pinned to the ground and unable to block all of their attacks.
Din felt as ready as he could before one of the anoobas got impatient and charged at him, quickly shortening the distance between them as it tore through the grass. Din squeezed the trigger of his pistol, and the slightly clumsy shot only singed the predator's fur and momentarily slowed it. Encouraged by their comrade, two more came ready to tackle him onto his back, but he responded quicker by activating the flamethrower on his vambrace, the whooshing orange flames catching onto one and causing the other to yelp and jump out of the way. The anooba that caught fire howled and rolled on the dirt in an attempt to put out the fire scorching its fur as the fourth and largest of the pack finally started its approach. This one seemed older, more methodical to Din. It hadn't simply rushed in rashly, but it had waited to see how its prey would defend himself before deciding to make its move. The first anooba that Din had grazed with a blaster bolt had recovered and was following the supposed leader's example, while the one which had evaded his flamethrower cautiously came to assist behind them.
Adrenaline and focus kicking in, Din launched his whip chord as soon as the canines came close enough and caught one of the smaller ones around the legs. He swiftly released the chord from his vambrace, allowing the tight metal to fully wrap around the anooba's legs and take it off its feet before it could pounce. It fell on its side in an ungraceful heap with a howl of surprise and began desperately struggling to get free.
However, too swiftly for him to prevent it, the other small predator launched at him with the goal to tackle him into his back. Din quickly raised his arm and fired his blaster, the red bolt finding its mark on the canine's chest. Unfortunately, its corpse fell onto his helmet and obstructed his vision just long enough for the pack leader to make his move.
With a grunt of effort, Din pulled the dead predator off of himself, but it was too late. Before he could think of a way to block it, the largest anooba launched of its hind legs and slammed its large tooth into his chest plate and pinned him to the ground with its two front paws. The impact plus the knife-like pain that lanced through his ribs was so strong that it instantly took his breath away, but the pain was somewhat replaced by fear and an adrenaline rush as he stared up at the drooling jaws of his attacker. It did not attempt to bite yet, as it seemed to be taking in his protective beskar. Din took the opportunity and lifted his blaster to shoot, but the shot missed as the anooba's right paw pinned down his blaster arm, its claws digging into the gaps in his armor. Din didn't waste any time, however, and desperately kicked his good leg up under the canine's stomach.
The kick hit home and his predator howled and rolled off of him, finally releasing the suffocating weight of the canine pressing on his chest. Adrenaline and the need for oxygen muted the pain in his middle and he sucked in much-needed gulps of air and pushed himself back into a sitting position before the largest anooba could recover. The one he had set on fire had retreated into the bushes, while the other was still tangled in his whip chord a few feet away but seemingly making progress getting out of it.
Both bruised but not beaten, Din and his attacker stared at one another as the creature began to circle him. Din did his best to follow its movements, but it was difficult since turning fully around took too long due to his crippled leg lying useless in front of him. Formulating a plan, Din turned his back to the creature and waited for it to pounce. Seeming to think that it was an opportunity, the anooba took the bait and sprung towards him. Ready for it, Din went flat on his stomach before his attacker jumped and rolled over onto his back as the canine was in the air. With not a moment to spare, Din pulled his left leg back and slammed his boot right into the flying anooba's throat before it could pin him down with its tooth again.
The powerful kick connected with the canine's tender neck and produced a loud pained yowl from the creature, but unfortunately its neck did not break as Din had intended it to.
Not having planned on the animal surviving, Din hesitated just long enough for the anooba to recover and scramble back onto its feet angrily. As it snarled and prowled around him, it seemed to decide that its prey's kick was his most powerful defense as it suddenly went for his legs.
Opting to use his most successful defense, Din kicked his leg out and fired a shot with his blaster simultaneously. The anooba dodged the kick, but the bolt singed its fur and caused it to yelp in surprise and pain. However, it was only fazed for a moment before it pounced again, this time its weight landing on probably the worst place it could have before Din could prevent it.
Din was pretty sure that the sheer pain of around two hundred pounds crashing onto his broken leg caused him to black out momentarily, because the next thing he knew he distantly heard yelling and someone firing a blaster far away. Seconds later, the weight was blessedly released, and he barely lucidly blinked away spots from his vision while his delirium plus his adrenaline made him somehow forget the unbearable agony he knew he surely should be experiencing right now.
A muffled voice reached his ears, the words jumbled and unintelligible, followed by another blaster shot and a howl. Slowly, he managed to turn his head to look towards the source of the blaster shots to see a dark-haired woman carrying a large blaster with two canteens hanging off of her belt. Her eyes were wild and her face contorted in anger as she stomped through the grass with a purpose, and Din's fogged mind finally registered who it was that had saved him.
"Cara."
Notes:
Phew, this was a tough one to write but I got through it. Chapter 7 will be much happier, at least at the end. Expect it probably next weekend. Thanks for reading!
*IB-94 is the model of Din's blaster pistol (thank you Wookieepedia)
