Hanharr's body is finally still, cut up and cauterised, and she's sad about it. The smell of his hair burning was with her all through the fight. It nearly threw her off a couple times.

For a moment, Mira contemplates cutting off the slave-binders he wears on his wrists. But, no, that would be ridiculous. Better to just leave the poor guy there. She's paid him back, you know. That's the end of that. He'd probably be happy with the way it turned out.

Can't win 'em all.

It just would have been nice to give him a better ending than that.

She moves on swiftly, her attention on her stuff now. Lightsaber securely fastened, heavy blaster still on the side. Wrist-mounted rocket launcher. The hell kind of padawan learner has one of those? Doesn't matter, she might need them. As much as she'd like to rely on her three or four days of fencing practice, she probably ought to work every angle here.

The Jedi hasn't gotten far. Mira can tell, when she concentrates. It's kinda like hearing her footsteps… that's the best way she can describe it now, anyways. Like hearing her. She's moving slow, stopping every minute or so. That may have something to do with the handy trail of dead lizards she's been leaving.

Man, it would be good to have her a little closer. This really isn't Mira's kind of place. No life to it. The Jedi's footsteps are the only thing she can sense here, and it makes them seem pretty special. Not that they aren't. It's just… this planet.

Mira allows herself to close her eyes. There are sheer cliff-faces on either side, Hanharr lying behind her. She outstretches her fingers.

And now there are whispers all over the planet. Things she never noticed. The lizard things looking for food, or something like it. Someone worrying a ways ahead of her, but she can't make anything out. Maybe it's some sort of Sith scout. Then the target's footsteps, a little closer. With them, slightly laboured breaths.

With a deep breath of her own, Mira stretches further, her hands stiffening without her realising it. And suddenly, there's a whole lot going on. There's screaming somewhere. Fear, lots of that. She doesn't even know if this is stuff that's going on now, or if it's just leftovers from the battle that destroyed the planet.

There's too much to concentrate on. Her hand shaking a touch, Mira keeps listening and breathing, a little less evenly. Maybe she can focus here… get something useful. Out of nowhere, she feels a vacuum in the Force, something she can't understand but which scares her half to death. There's so much grief in this thing… so much death… and another...

I can feel this... planet... I can't shut it out! It's louder now… it hurts!

And now Mira is terrifed beyond words. She's a little girl again at the end of a blaster carbine. She's throwing mines down, running for her life. Dangling in a psychopath's fist over a tall building. Trapped.

She lets go, flexes a little and coughs. Still shaking.

The Jedi is ahead, and she could probably use a hand. This will count as on-the-job training, anyway.

Leaving the Force alone for a minute, she gets her bearings the old-fashioned way and walks slowly. She looks over her shoulder once more at Hanharr. He's really dead this time. Maybe he's at peace. Wow, she's really doing this now, huh. Jedi training.

Is the Exile her 'master'? That's actually scarier than what she was sensing just now. Shouldn't it be 'mistress' anyway? No.

One can live their whole life with such echoes, Mira. But I can teach you to accept them.

She's a friend, is what she is. And she's as good a sentient being as she's ever known. And she's teaching Mira how to be like her. Stronger.

Yeah, a master. For the time being, Mira needs one. She's damn lucky she found such a good one.