One

"Her shoulder's infected," Dass Jennir spoke, "but she'll live. If she survived this long, she'll make it through."

Solan set his jaw firmly and nodded, staring up at the blonde haired Jedi. "Will she still have use of her arm?"

Sighing, Dass nodded as well. "I believe so. She was grazed, really—her position in the struggle may have saved her life, Padawan."

"And the others?"

"Dead." Dass replied, his voice having a hint of melancholy behind his cool exterior. "At least the most of them. Those who Vader did not kill in the temple either died like your master or were fooled into returning to the temple."

Dass Jennir saw the boy struggle with his own feelings as he swallowed all of his pain and fury. The padawan had short, black hair and the long, thin braid of a trainee going past his shoulder. He was small now, at only fifteen, but the boy had begun to mature and his features were already strong.

"Why did they turn on us, Master Jennir?"

"I believe they were against us all along." Looking away, Jennir stared at his new comrades, the Nosaurians, for a moment and then turned back to the green eyed boy. "And their time to strike had come. We fell for a false security."

A few more silent moments passed between the two of them and then Jennir stepped forward, bringing out his lightsaber. "The time of the Jedi has passed, and so has your time as a padawan," igniting his lightsaber, Jennir deftly cut the braid from the boy's hair and then stepped back, "I would train you myself now if I was arrogant enough, but there is little reason to. Go to your sister."

Solan tried to keep his lips from trembling as he passed Jennir and entered the lavish tent where his sister rested. Going to Seren, the dark haired boy sat at her side and took his sister's hand.

Seren was beautiful, her lips curved gently, her face round and soft-skinned despite a few nicks from her fall. Like her brother, Seren had black hair, but hers was long and wavy, letting the braid blend in better. When Seren woke up, Solan would take her braid from her as well, but right now she was in a tender state and he did not wish to wake her.

A tear escaped Solan's left eye, but he did not move to wipe it away as it trailed down his cheek and dripped off of his chin. Everything was so uncertain now. Would Master Jennir allow them to stay with him and fight or would he send them elsewhere? Would Seren die from her wound, despite Jennir's blessing, or would she survive? Would living be better than death?

"Why are you crying?"

Solan turned and gazed down at Seren, who stared at him with groggy concern. Wiping away the mess, Solan sniffed back the tears and shook his head. "It's nothing."

When Seren went to sit up, she was thwarted by a sharp pain in her right shoulder and lay back down. Staring up at Solan, Seren squeezed his hand, making him look at her.

"What's the matter?"

"I'm…" Solan closed his eyes, "so afraid."

A gentle hand wiped away more of the tears and Solan opened his eyes to gaze at his twin sister. "So am I." She said softly.

Instantly Solan embraced his twin, despite her current state, but she opened her arms wide for comfort and held him with more strength that she thought she had. Small cries emitted from Solan as Seren kept a firm hold of her brother. Seren allowed her brother to cry for a few more minutes before releasing him and pushing him away to look into his eyes.

"The worst of it's over." She assured him. "And we still have each other."

"I'm sorry…I…didn't mean to wake you."

"Oh hush." Seren teased and smiled softly. "You're my brother, Solan, I could probably forgive you if you cut my arm off."