A/N: Still with me? Short chapter, the next one should be longer. Enjoy...
Impulse
Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets.
― Arthur Miller
Her boots sink into the mud as Aayla moves through the dense foliage of Honoghr's forests. The air is thick and heavy with moisture, clinging to her clothes and skin. It collects in the divots of clone armor, dripping off them with each movement. Even lightly armed she sinks into the mud, with their heavy armor and larger frames her men are worse off. Her hopes of stealth are dwindling with each passing moment and clumsy muddy step. The natives will have no trouble following their trail.
Not to mention her Commander will barely look at her.
Force knows she's seen better days.
The white clone armor stands out starkly in the dark dense greenery of Honoghr, even when liberally splattered with mud. Her eyes are drawn to Bly's broad back slogging away ahead of her.
Where he doesn't have to look at her.
Her chest is suddenly tight.
The heavy mist is slowly becoming rain, warm and heavy like the spray of blood. In the already oppressively wet atmosphere it brings no relief.
Maybe it's all for the best. The Counsel has warned her so many times about attachments, herded her carefully away from one after another. Perhaps she is finally learning why, and experience is the bitterest teacher.
She pushes a wide green leaf out of her path, a green the same shade as Kit Fisto's skin. Shame is a quick hot slither down her spine. How had she forgotten him? So wrapped up in the odd ache from Bly's desire to deny her existance Kit had completely slipped her mind. After the war they had planned to leave the Jedi...to raise children and grow old together. She loves Kit.
Her boots sink a little deeper into the mud and the rain comes down heavier on her face. Hot needles poke at her conscience.
Like she doesn't love Bly.
Fear is an icy rush no matter the heat of Honoghr's forests. She's made a mess of this, of Kit and of Bly. Stupid, stupid spur of the moment decisions -
Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering
Master Yoda's gentle voice floats to the surface of her mind, a comfortingly stable presence in the Force. Pressed for time in the forest of an enemy is not the time for meditation but she reaches out just enough for the the calming flow of the Force slides over her. The fear ebbs.
The Force will lead her.
Bly's broad back moves steadily forward, and something hovering just outside the edge of her awareness comes into focus.
Noghri.
"Get down! Ambush!" Her scream is eerily loud in the stillness, her lightsaber flaring to life as the first of the hidden grey figures come plunging toward them.