Bo-Katan's information about my quarry turned out to be extremely accurate, but I had expected nothing less from her. She detested artifice and trickery, living by her own code of honour which although quite different from my own, is nonetheless strong and true. I almost envied her resolve and unwillingness to compromise, as I had done, and time I suppose will reveal which of us made the right choice.

I fear for her young child Mara – she is strong in the Force, but already she is so mistrustful and ashamed of her potential. While Bo-Katan clearly loves her daughter, she hates her abilities and the young girl has no doubt absorbed her mother's distaste and directed it inwards. Mara is a hard-edged, mistrustful child, and I cannot help but compare her disposition to sweet Luke, although the differences in their situations also plays a part. Mara has lived her entire life on the run, hearing stories of the evil Force users who had killed her aunt, and the Jedi who had not been able to protect her.

"Does is hurt?" she asked after I had told her the story of Satine, which had not seemed to earn her trust but had at the very least intrigued her. "Inside your head?"

"No." I looked at her curiously. "Does yours, young one?"

"Sometimes," she said, looking up at me with large green eyes that seemed far older than her years. "It's like I have too much in there."

"It's the Force," I explained. "You're keeping it bottled inside you, and all that energy has nowhere else to go."

"I don't like it." She stuck out her bottom lip and scowled, and I glanced back at Bo-Katan. For a moment her cool façade dropped and I saw pure agony – at her inability to help her child, at needing to ask for help from me of all people, at the hard days ahead.

"You must learn to let go of the pain," I instructed her, and tried to touch two fingers to her temple, to reach inside her mind. But she swatted my hand away angrily, jumped up on the bed and punched me in the nose.

"Ah!" I reeled back, in surprise more than anything else. Her little fist had struck exactly where Bo-Katan's lieutenant had earlier, and I could hear the woman's laugh as I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Mara," Bo-Katan admonished her, although it was insincere. "He is trying to help you."

"Don't need his help," Mara sat back down on the bed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Not like he helped my Auntie."

Bo-Katan sobered at the mention of her sister. "It wasn't his fault," she said softly, reaching forward to stroke Mara's hair. "Not really."

I don't know if she told Mara this simply so the girl would allow me to help her, or if Bo-Katan had truly forgiven me for my part in Satine's death. I suppose I may never know, but at Bo-Katan's urging Mara allowed me to take her small head in my hands and reach out into her mind. I showed her how to stop bottling up the Force, to allow it to flow through and out of her. She was a quick learner, and took well to the simply barrier techniques I taught her – it would not be enough to sustain a Force probe, but at least she would stop projecting. She was much calmed afterwards, allowing Bo-Katan to tuck her into bed as she grew noticeably sleepy.

"Do you feel better, little one?" I asked, and she nodded, drawing the blankets up near her chin. She still eyed me somewhat suspiciously, and I suppose I could not hope to change the girl's nature in a few scant hours.

"I know a little boy," I told her softly before I left, as if telling her a bedtime story. "He is just like you – gifted. Because of this his life will be very hard, and he will face great trials. But he will do great things, and you should know, Mara, that you are not alone. You will never be alone."

I believe that, Qui-Gon. Somehow the Force tells me that young Mara has her part to place in the years to come, although I cannot see the details. I see darkness in her future, but then again darkness seems to blanket all of us, and I also see hope. That is the word, so clear in my mind that it has become an unshakable belief. Hope.

Your friend,

Ben Kenobi