AN: There's only going to be two chapters, maybe three, of Ahsoka's childhood now! I like writing about her at this age, but the lack of dialogue on her part is so hard.
Ahsoka's mother, Mai, was weak. Her breathing was tired from the smoke, but she motioned for Ahsoka to come closer, "Dear one," she rasped, "Watch out." Ahsoka, as usual, couldn't understand her mother's words, but she could feel the river of warning beneath them. Ahsoka crawled beside her mother and watched her chest rise and fall, a sign of life. Ahsoka was so happy that her mother had lived the fire, so relieved, but she was also-as always-impatient.
Even though her mother had warned her, Ahsoka felt no immediate danger. The child didn't know of the Force, and so it came when it wished, it warned her when it felt it should, but it didn't now. Now Ahsoka was bored. Too nervous to sleep from the earlier excitement, Ahsoka crawled about five feet away from her mother and played in the grass, searching out insects and strands of grass that she threw in the air. They came to rest on her lap and Mai's body. Ahsoka watched her mother's nose twitch when the grass landed on her nose. Ahsoka giggled, and was so preoccupied with her new pastime she didn't notice a shadow in the moonlight, or the looming presence until she was suspended in midair, somebody's large hands around her waist.
The man put a cloth over Ahsoka's mouth and when she tried to cry out, her sounds were muffled. Tears trailed down her cheeks, dampening the man's hands. Now Ahsoka knew who he was. It was Aron, the evil man her mother had loved.
"Don't worry, child." Aron stroked Ahsoka's tear stained cheek, "Your mother will not be harmed. I've got what I need." Ahsoka snarled, or tried to, and struggled to free herself, but Aron's hands held fast to her waist.
Ahsoka wished that she was past this 'cute' stage, the thing that kept her out of trouble, so she could speak up and fight this man, but she couldn't. Scared, Ahsoka tried to cry out again. Danger loomed over her, and she noticed that carefully poised in Aron's fingers was a tranquilizing dart. Paralyzed, Ahsoka felt a sharp sting in her upper arm. She gave a muffled gasp, and fell limp, giving Aron the freedom to even murder her. But he didn't. He merely laughed, a husky, deep evil sound that rose from his throat and penetrated even the air. When Mai stirred, mumbling for Ahsoka, Aron left, carrying the supposedly sleeping child. Ahsoka wasn't sleeping, though. She was near death.
Mai grunted, feeling for her daughter's warm body, but she only felt the sharp Shilli grasses. Disgruntled, the young mother shot upright, her frantic blue eyes searching for Ahsoka. There was nothing, not even a trace of where she was.
Mai tried to comfort herself. If Aron took her, there was no way she wouldn't have heard her child's cries. Or seen the sky blue tears falling from those sapphire eyes. Mai's fingers twitched, almost as though she were wiping the blue drops away now. But Ahsoka wasn't in sight, and the heavy, lead pit in Mai's stomach told her that for once Ahsoka hadn't just wandered away, feeling that there was better things to do. Mai had failed.
She fell to the ground, stiff and immobile, her thoughts still, her eyes wide open, but she stared at nothing. The truth finally came forward. Aron had won, and Ahsoka was gone.
When Ahsoka finally awoke, she was groggy and so very, very confused. Her stomach churned with nausea and a touch of a headache…well, not a touch. Her head was roaring and thudding against her temples. Ahsoka had never felt so sick in her short life. She cried out as her stomach rebelled. She managed to hold in what so desperately wanted out. As Ahsoka gagged, her wide eyes took in her surroundings. She was in a wooden crate with a lumpy, worn blanket as a mattress. Ahsoka's nose crinkled at the vile smell rising from the blanket. She kneeled, looking for the small closet that was her room, the cheery, frantic Mai, the large, but messy kitchen. None of it was here. This wasn't her house. Panicked, Ahsoka almost cried out until she remembered the bright orange flames rising from the small house, and her sick mother. Ahsoka felt betrayed. Her normal warning had failed. The child pouted, her lower lip stuck out. She crossed her arms and landed heavily on the blanket, or more like rags.
Someone's heavy footsteps jolted Ahsoka out of her reverie. It was Aron. Who else would it be? Ahsoka thought irritably, glaring at the man with two narrow eyes. She scowled darkly at him as he lifted her, "You'll do well, baby doll." He crooned, but his voice was fake. When Ahsoka made no move, when she didn't warm up to him, he said to himself, as dark as Ahsoka's scowl had been. "If your mother doesn't show up to ruin it all."
In the statement…as usual, Ahsoka couldn't understand-it was so frustrating!-she felt a flicker of nervousness, of dread, but to her young mind, all she could comprehend was hope for herself. Relief coursed through her small body, and she smiled a bit, hiding her small grin from her father.
Aron's rough hands held her firmly and when he began to walk, Ahsoka fidgeted and squirmed. He brought her outside, and Ahsoka didn't recognize the rundown yard, but when she saw it, her eyes widened and she looked around. The beating of her small fists on Aron's chest ceased, and when he saw her looking around in bewilderment, he said, "You like it, child?" Ahsoka glanced at him, wrinkling her nose slightly. She obviously meant no.
Aron grunted and set her on a banged up speeder, but he made no move to watch her. That is, until Ahsoka's playful demeanor set in and her fingers came out. She pressed a button. The speeder spun into a 360, with Aron roaring at Ahsoka and Ahsoka giggling. When the speeder came to a rest, Aron glanced at the smiling child with dangerous eyes and said flatly, "Watch it, Ahsoka." After that, Aron's eyes never left her. Ahsoka could feel him remembering a piece of paper, and she could feel the feelings of anxiety, of…problems with speeders, and her mother, and a slightly smaller version of herself.
But that didn't matter, not now. When they arrived at the market, Aron grabbed Ahsoka off the speeder, still cussing about her previous near crash on the speeder and carried the protesting child into the middle of the stands. The sweet, poisonous smell of rotting fruit made Ahsoka's stomach begin to rebel again, but she pushed her own personal feelings aside.
Aron's stride was long and confident, and Ahsoka hated the swagger. She pulled away from his warm chest. But when she pulled away, instead of Aron's arms, she was in this other Togruta's. He handed Aron some credits, and cradling the squirming child, thanked Aron for this 'child he would call his own.' So confused, Ahsoka glanced into the warm, open face. She supposed she should of instantly liked him, for he seemed friendly, but there was the Force again, telling her otherwise.
But a distant voice stopped them all. She was too far away, and Aron, rather hurriedly, bade him a farewell and stepped into the streets. He furtively drew a hood over his face to conceal his markings and disappeared. Ahsoka had a feeling she wouldn't see him again.
The distant voice grew louder. Ahsoka blinked with recognition and she cried out suddenly. It was Mai, but when she opened her mouth, the Togruta man whose arms held her a firm prisoner was already quickly walking away. All Ahsoka could see was her mother with pain-filled eyes, just watching them.
Neither of them knew it, but Ahsoka Tano had just become a slave.
Mai was angry. She would kill Aron, she would murder him...but she couldn't. She vowed she'd get Ahsoka back, she promised herself. But even then, the promise was dull and empty as Mai's heart.