Family
Cool air washed over my face like water from paradise.
I sighed, long and deep, and the moment was promptly ruined by the cracking and bleeding of my cracked lips. I tried to sit up.
"Not just yet," a calm voice murmured soothingly, and a warm hand pushed me back down. My heart began to race.
"I… I can't see…" my voice was a whisper, thin and coarse, and I winced at how weak I sounded.
"There's a bandage around your eyes—they were burnt. But don't worry," the voice added on quickly, sensing my panic, "you should feel better soon."
I relaxed slightly, and felt like I could trust this person. Maybe they were another Sith and I was safe in a base somewhere—it's not like anyone else would treat a Sith like this.
It was too much to hope for, but my heart swelled, and I knew it was too late.
Hope had already seeded inside of me.
The next time I woke, my eye opened with my consciousness. Everything was gold, and a bright light was shining in my face. I sat up and looked around silently.
I was in a small sandstone house with smoothe golden wall and huge gaps in the walls for doors that made the whole place feel open and airy. I heard movement in some of the other rooms, which echoed off the round walls and domed roof. A face appeared suddenly in one of the entryways, and I tensed.
"Ah, you're up," a woman smiled and began to walk towards me. I scooted back on the rough bed I was laying on, and felt an abrupt wave of nausea from that one motion. Her expression changed from thankful to worried in a second, and she rushed over to me, pressing a warm glass of water into my hands.
"Where am I?" I asked, trying not to be tempted by the liquid I held, and trying even harder not to trust this strange woman.
She opened her mouth as if to say something, but was immediately cut off by a shout from across the house that sent pain throbbing through my brain in time with my heartbeat.
"Hey!" the new voice was small and high-pitched, and its screams were happy, "She's up!"
A little girl darted into the room, her golden blonde hair glinting in the light that spilled through the windows and her green eyes glinting with excitement. She hopped onto the bed, but I was already up and reaching for my lightsabers, ready to fight at a moment's notice.
But my sabers weren't there. Nothing was.
A tall, bearded man and a youth of around Twenty strode into the room.
"Kanji!" the older man exclaimed, scooping her up into his arms with ease, "Let the girl have a break!"
"Aww, but Dakku!" the child whined, but obeyed nonetheless.
"Where's my—"
"Gear?" the woman I assumed was the mother interrupted me with a smile, "It's in the kitchen over there," she motioned to a room just to my left. I dashed away and grabbed my lightsaber, feeling a wave of comfort and relief flood me as I strapped them onto my belt.
"What are you doing?" the mother asked, her face creased with worry and confusion.
"I need to go," was my simple reply. For a moment, the family just stood there, shocked.
"But… but you'll die out there!" Kanji, the girl, gasped dramatically.
I paused. However young she was, she was also right. I couldn't see Blood if I was dead…
"You're welcome to stay here as long as you like," the young man offered, and his mother nodded.
"Sure," I shrugged, then frowned when I realized I was a charity case. "But I'll work for it."
Dakku brightened, but his wife looked concerned.
"You're not well enough—"
"I'm well enough," I insisted, hating to feel weak. She nodded reluctantly.
When we walked outside, the first thing I noticed was the sun, hovering directly above me… strange, hadn't it been like that when I'd passed out?
"How long have I been unconscious?" I asked, dreading the answer.
"A day," Kanji beamed, and I groaned. I had an extra day's work to make up, and I had a feeling I wasn't going to enjoy it.
The hunter was on the trail.
He knelt beside the broken-down speeder, fingering the sand-crusted paint.
A faint growl escaped his throat, deep and gravelly. He was getting closer—he could sense it.
The hunter was on the trail.
I plowed the family's fields as diligently as I could, hoping to pay for whatever resources I had wasted with my uselessness. Eventually, I fell into an unthinking pattern, which made things easier on my sand-scratched robotic arm.
"Hey!" the voice of Kanji, a distraction I'd become used to, floated over to me like sand on the breeze. I didn't look up.
"Hey!"
I absentmindedly wondered how she could scream at me, but still sound cheerful and unbearably happy.
"What?" I snapped, hoping she would go away. The girl was unfazed.
"Where are you from?"
I winced. This was a sore spot with me, considering I didn't exactly know, myself. I looked up, glaring harshly to see the small child grinning at me. Her dark-haired mother and blonde father looked on from a distance, blissfully unaware of how dangerous I could and would be. My gaze turned back to Kanji's bright blue eyes, which dimmed when she realized she'd asked the wrong question. Still, I could tell she was dying to ask more, so I nodded my consent. She beamed, brighter than the sun.
"What's your name?"
"Rain."
"Ooh! I love that name!" the kid stared at the sky wistfully. "we don't get much rain here."
"I can tell," I smirked, mainly at how ignorant she was. Of course I hadn't told her my full name—DeathRain was a Sith-sounding name in itself, and more than enough to scare a little girl like her and her family into kicking me out.
During the lunch break, I ate apart from the family, shooting them wary glances from time to time.
"Are you sure you don't want to it with us?" the mother asked hopefully, green eyes flashing.
"Yes…" I trailed off, realizing I didn't know her name.
"Mrs. Jett," she smiled gently at me, "but you can call me Anya. My husband over there is Dakku, my eldest son Jase, and… well, you already know Kanji!" she laughed musically, trying her best to break the ice.
I nodded once and walked away, much to her dismay.
When the rest was over, I tried my best to get back to my mindless routine, but Kanji was determined to keep that from happening. Question after question, she fired away, until it was all I could do not to smile at her. She was a sweet kid, really.
I couldn't help but like her. I knew it was a bad thing, too.
This went on for das; I worked my tail off to pay my debt, and the family worked their tails off to get me to talk. And, of course, they were succeeding.
I didn't know if I could take this anymore. It was against all I've been taught—coming close to people I knew I was bound to leave forever.
Then one night, everything changed.