Good day all,

As promised, here is the next installment - please note that, within, are some characteristics that I have give Togruta. I follow the written information on the species as well as I can, but I am taking some liberties with what they can actually do. These are critical pieces of the story moving forward.

I hope you all are enjoying so far, and I can't thank you all enough for the support and the feedback that I have received. This is challenging my writing style and understanding, helping me to grow.

Happy Writing,

Eliana

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Tombur was right, after all. Ahsoka had to admit that he was so far out of her league in perception that it hurt…. When he had caught her, folded against herself with her arms holding her stomach, she had figured he was merely going to try to cheer her up. What he ended up doing was far more intense, and suddenly she understood how Djibourdi felt on the other end of his conversations. He saw straight through her, and he wasn't wrong.

"Did Dji talk to you?" she pressed weakly, relieved when he gave the affirmative. Then, timidly, she asked, "You aren't mad at him, are you?"

She already knew the answer but had to hear it for herself. Of course he wasn't and though the question alone was enough to make him justify his answer, the change she had felt through Djibourdi's Force signature signaled that the Echani wasn't leading her on. It was going to take time, the knight told her, but he held guilt for a burden that wasn't his to carry. Warren had made his choice… and no matter what any of them said now, once the human made a choice, he would never turn away from it. Tombur and Djibourdi both were going to have to find a way to live with that. So, Ahsoka mused, her friend's grandmaster had been a lot like Anakin.

They sat quietly for a long moment then, watching Djibourdi who was lounged far up within the branches of one of the leafy trees of the camp doing… something without moving (she had given up trying to understand, and that lack of understanding led her here) and then, when her gaze had strayed to her master who was fussing over the wires strewn over the ground, Tombur had gently pressed.

"Why do you hesitate to speak to him?"

"I don't," she had played off with false confidence, almost startled when he let out a genuine laugh.

"You are worse at lying than Red is….I didn't think that was possible."

At her nervous look, he softened his expression.

"Come now, my dear – give me at least some credit. Now," he briefly gestured to the human behind them then asked again, "why do you hesitate?"

"He's busy."

"He will always be busy, Ahsoka. I will always be busy. But we will always drop everything for those dear to us."

She had nibbled her lip and looked down, only finding the courage to meet his gaze again when a porcelain hand rested on her forearm.

"He does not mean to dismiss you, Ahsoka. We are in the midst of chaos, and our mutual friend has a habit of needing to keep either his mind or his hands busy. Both cannot be idle at the same time…and I well imagine that a lack of droids or things to explode has him on edge. But for you? He merely needs a reminder."

Normally she would have retorted that she knew her master more than probably anyone else, that he was no ordinary Jedi and thus she was no ordinary padawan. This time, she only found it in herself to nervously glance from one Jedi knight to the other, then found her knees oddly fascinating. Tombur had a calming way about him even though he looked right through her. He gave her the time she needed to gather herself and release that troublesome mess of emotion into the Force before he prompted again.

"You underestimate yourself. You can do the things that you convince yourself that you cannot."

He didn't elaborate as he stood and moved a couple of steps away, watching her reaction bubble up.

"Normally I would think so too – I don't know what it is, master. I watch what he does," she jerked her head to her friend who was suspended in the tree, "and suddenly it's like there's this whole class of things that I should be able to do and I ca- Ow! Hey!"

The round fruit that Tombur had quickly grabbed from the basket behind him and tossed from his hand bounced with a dull 'thunk' from her temple and rolled across the ground. She had scowled at him, rubbing the sore spot.

"What was that for?"

"Testing a theory," his answer had come smugly, a knowing grin spreading across his lips, "It seems you and Red are opposite in some ways too… he overthinks everything. You pick one line and then don't think…at all. Like Anakin."

She had appreciated his honesty, but truly wanted to tell him exactly what she thought.

"You are more capable than you realize. Stop trying so hard."

He had huffed at her expression, matching it with his own.

"You are able, Ahsoka. Your body learns faster than your mind – that is a wonderful trait of your people. Please," he had gestured her on, "Enlighten me on those thoughts bouncing around your head."

There had been hesitation, her determined gaze locked on him to make sure he wasn't up to more tricks before she delved in again.

She had been surprisingly willing to divulge some of the heaviest things plaguing her mind, those darkened shadows that growled and traced and snapped at her as she tried to meditate. The uncertainty of their situation, the frustration of not knowing what to do, the abandonment of not being able to communicate with her own people – all in a litany of strewn together half-thoughts and sentences came tumbling from her lips. After a little while, she didn't bother to try and stop it anymore. Tombur's mere presence was like a balm for the aching pain in her heart.

"Meanwhile Dji is always making those sounds, and it's like he's having this private conversation with the planet," she had ventured, haphazardly snatching the fruit from the air and grasping it in a tightened palm, "and all I can do is listen and try to figure how he –"

The realization had finally sunk in then and she left the sentence hanging in mid-air, staring numbly at the fruit that she suddenly had possession of. Tombur had thrown another one amid her tangent, and without thought she had snatched it one-handed – she hadn't realized her body had moved until seconds later. How…

She blinked owlishly at the Echani who was beaming at her.

"Ah, you see?" his tone was warm and endearing, "Your body is free to move even if your mind is busy. The body learns faster than the mind…but that doesn't mean that the mind doesn't need the same recovery that the body does. In fact…" he had given a slight nod toward her master, silently directing her to look back to him, "It is almost more important. And that recovery comes with practice, and a listening ear."

That was all he had to do to win that 'argument'. Ahsoka had never felt more empowered before.

"I understand, master."

"I am sure you do, Ahsoka. Now," he nudged her lightly, "Off you go. Remind him to pull his head from the clouds."

"Thank you, master," she offered him with a bow before jumping off, fruit in hand to where Anakin was fiddling.

Tombur had been right: he stopped as soon as she nervously prompted, beckoning her to go with him to their quarters where there was at least some form of privacy. That had blessed the scarred face of the general with a soft smile…one that faltered to a tense frown when he allowed his attention to wander up to where his own padawan was, still resting on a high branch of the tree. Unlike Ahsoka he couldn't hear what Djibourdi was doing – but he knew exactly what it was. He didn't see the harm, but he also didn't fully support the use of his padawan's energy to such things right now.

He drew the small earpiece from the pocket of his robe, working it into his left ear and switching the receiver on. Now he could hear him clearly, the hidden waves of sound washed over him like the water over the stones in the river not far away. The series of soft clicks, singing trills, and low-pulsing hums were a conversation that was sent out as far as his young padawan could manage, and faintly he could hear one call in response that came from within the camp walls. Eddy, no doubt.

Djibourdi was watching over the trees and mountains around them in between those calls of his, and Tombur knew he was waiting for a response. There was none. Another call. No answer. The young Togruta had become the eyes of Tombur's legion, and his response to the world around his men dictated how they behaved.

If he was calm, they were calm.

If he was alert, they were alert.

If he was in pain, they would suffer.

If he called danger, they would move to eliminate it.

Even now, the Echani could see his padawan's elite guard, his Reapers, listening intently to him as they continued their daily tasks of cleaning and prepping their weapons. They always had ears on him, they were always listening, and just like Tombur in that moment they were curious as to what their commander searched for. What the two Jedi had found on their journey outside of the wall had caused a wound that Tom was sure Dji wasn't ready for –

And when those calls ceased and one sharp whine, the one that reminded the general of a wounded canine, jumped through the receiver he knew it still ached badly. His padawan was too young for such dark things… but now, whether he was too young or not, he was cursed with knowledge.

Tombur raised two porcelain fingers to his lips and gave one soft whistle, just enough to attract Djibourdi's attention.

"Red," he spoke to him in a normal tone, waving a hand to where Ahsoka had been not long before.

He watched the internal hesitation his padawan felt for just a moment before the teenager was swinging himself from the branches to the ground with an answering trill, and then running effortlessly to be by his master's side. Tombur's heart ached to put the younger in such a position… and Force knew he had his opinions on how the Council's choice had put them here. Just as soon as he had moved his padawan past the dark's grip on him over Warren's murder they had accidentally stumbled upon far worse in those woods – those same woods that the young Togruta held so sacred. It was devastating.

"It isn't fair of me to suddenly ask so much of you," he spoke sadly to the worn red face, his own turned in grief, "And I never wanted you to learn of these things this way."

Djibourdi understood that, and he was quick to offer that assurance through their bond. Tombur felt himself warm with endearment. He nudged at the gaping wound on his padawan's shield, pleased when, even mixed with pain, the feeling of dedication pulsed through.

"You honor me, Djibourdi. I need you to focus on that honor…I need you here with me. In the here and now, not out there," he nodded at the realization that flashed in his padawan's eyes, "I know that this is a lot for me to ask you to rise to… but in the coming days, we will have to make a choice. A single Jedi cannot run those legions alone – but, maybe, their chosen leader can. If we cannot gain communication with Coruscant and what we believe comes to pass without their knowledge, we must intervene. I need you here with me. To run with me. We must be ready. What say you, padawan-mine?"

He didn't need to ask. Djibourdi had understood the moment they stumbled upon that horror what might have to be done, and he had already allowed himself to face the knowledge that their hand was being forced. The table was tilted, the game was rigged, and if they couldn't organize off-planet they wouldn't have much other alternative.

His answer was one hand that clenched itself into a fist and then found its place against the palm of his other in front of his chest, body bending in a bow.

"Alright then, Big Red. Take today to prepare yourself. Tomorrow, we will begin preparations in case we must intervene – that is the only way we can help your people now."

Then, tenor voice falling into the determined soft bass, he ordered him off to his training station that stood just past the walls against the rise of one of the mountains. Djibourdi relented obediently, skin warmed by the morning sun that soaked his back as he ventured across the grass to the course.

Ahsoka would follow behind a couple standard hours later, at about 0930. Finding a moment where he had wandered off she was quick to get onto the course behind him, digging into the determination she had become famous for.

She was going to get this right – this time she knew she had it, all she had to do was take a deep breath and keep her head straight and make sure she raised her foot –

Or, you know, she could botch the move again and tumble like a crecheling to the ground with a muttered curse. How did he do it?!

She had watched him do it earlier with her own eyes, witnessed him like a finely-tuned chrono despite the fatigue that he had to be feeling after the trip the previous day and the run he had gone on while she was with Anakin. Instead of being tired, he had been bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Any relief she had been granted after finally confronting that demon that nipped at her soul was now replaced with intrigue…and frustration. It wasn't that Djibourdi had, yet again, left without her to train.

It was that he had chosen to line the ground underneath him with all manner of short obstacles: stones, small logs, raised bits of stumps – and that as he maneuvered the twin lightsabers through the air and allowed them to sing he somehow danced around the obstacles at his feet. But he never looked at them. That's what had fascinated her: she couldn't understand how he could dodge those obstacles, do those forms, mind those blades, and not fall flat on his face without sparing a glance to the obstacle course he was in…but she wanted to do it too. She had watched him for a while until he retired back to his makeshift quarters to wash up and read, and Ahsoka had thought that she could mimic what she watched.

So here she was, just trying to kriffin crab-walk between some of the small logs that were arranged in columns…and slipped up yet again. She was beginning to get annoyed. So filled with her task was she that she hadn't noticed that her friend had returned and found refuge in a low-hanging branch of a Sindu tree, softly sipping some steaming caf as he scrolled through the data pad he had brought with him. It hadn't surprised him to find her here. The four of them had meditated together in the very early hours that morning and within Ahsoka's Force signature was a shaking hesitance that had him curious - curious if she had felt the same disturbance that he and his master had or if it was a hesitance built from some internal inferiority complex.

This was his answer, and he was more than willing to make sure she didn't break her leg while figuring this out. Besides, he found her mere presence oddly comforting, especially while he was in the embrace of such a kind tree and the birds sang to him from overhead, the soft whispering of the tree leaves blending with their song to form a soothing hymn. That momentary peace was shaken when his friend hit her knees with another loud curse – she had chosen Basic to illustrate the pain and aggravation she felt, and of course one of the most colorful sets of words in the language flew from her lips. He almost choked on his caf.

Suddenly she was there below him, hands planted on her hips and eyes alight with annoyance – yet warmed by affection.

"Okay, spill," she demanded of him.

He thought carefully how to respond. He was still hesitant after so long to be open with anyone other than his master, but Tombur's nudge in the back of his mind helped him make the choice.

"I just made this caf, Ahsoka. I would rather not be wasteful."

Ahsoka stood there, almost as though she was stuck in suspended animation. Djibourdi made a joke… it was a horribly dull joke, but it was a joke. He was joking with her. She almost gave a fist-pump of pure victory. Instead, she gave him a playful scowl.

"Very funny, fox boy. I mean that," she gestured to where she had been tripping over obstacles and logs not long ago, "how do you focus on so many things at once but still manage to watch where you're going?"

"I don't."

She suddenly had an innate desire to smack him over the back of the head but managed to curb the urge. He didn't offer her anything else as he took another sip of his caf, but he did turn off the data pad and slip it into one of the pockets of the loose fatigue pants he wore. Finally, he prompted:

"You give me too much credit, Ahsoka."

Now Ahsoka was confused.

"No I don't – I watched you. I saw you do it. You never looked at the ground but you made it through all of those things and never touched a single one… I try to walk through looking straight ahead and suddenly Kachina looks like a track star. So, if you aren't focusing on everything at the same time how do you do it?"

"I listen."

"I'm listening too, Dji – like right now I'm listening to you try to be all mystical and wise-like but it's just giving me a migraine," she grumbled back, moving to massage her temples with her fingers in an attempt to soothe her oncoming headache.

"I don't mean that," his soft voice sounded again, and her eyes turned back to him where he was still lounged on the branch, "you don't need to listen," he gestured around him to emphasize the birds and breeze that were both singing, "you need to listen."

Then he pointed to his montrals before reaching below him to knock on the tree branch as an example. Ahsoka looked lost so he decided to try and explain a different way, utilizing the Force to float his mug safely to a small boulder before hopping out of the tree and to the ground. He beckoned her over with him to where there was some loose gravel on the ground, crouching with her next to it.

"Everything is connected," he told her, picking up a handful of the pebbles. They tumbled loosely in his grip, and he looked at her expectantly. She only looked back to him blankly, her birthmarks almost appearing to stretch over her frustrated face.

"Everything is connected to everything else. Everything must go somewhere, nature knows best. Therefore, everything one does as an individual affects the whole. All thoughts, words, prayers, images, blessings, and deeds are listened to by all that is. You need to let nature guide you. Stop fighting to guide it instead."

The pebbles moved loosely as he wiggled his fingers lightly.

"Now don't listen," he reminded her by shaking them in his hand, then pointed quickly to her montrals with his finger, "listen."

Ahsoka focused in herself, watching those tiny stones roll from his palm and go clattering back to the ground, small goosebumps lighting across her skin when she felt the faint movement echo through her montrals. She didn't hear their sound as they clattered down. Instead, only one sense in her focus, she noticed something she had never noticed before: she could almost feel the surfaces of them impact differently as they rolled and, mesmerized, she looked back at him as he moved to stand. Her montrals tingled with the sudden work she was putting them through and, surprised at how dizzy she suddenly felt, made a concerted effort to pull herself back out of it again. How did he switch between them so simply?!

"You are not your master."

She huffed at his sudden statement.

"Duh."

"No, Ahsoka, I mean that… he is a very talented man, a good Jedi. But that is what he is. He is a human man, you are not."

"You're going to have to clarify that a bit more, Dji," was the response as she followed him back to the tiny logs she had been tripping on earlier, "You either lost me a while ago or you aren't making sense."

"Just as there are things that your master can do that you cannot, the same can be said in reverse. You are Togruta," the slight accent in his voice grew heavier with that statement, and his golden eyes beckoned to her own shining blue, "You cannot follow the same rules that he follows. Use your senses to your advantage – your body will move for you so that your mind is free to think."

With a feather touch to her elbow he moved her to stand next to those logs on the ground, quietly requesting her to pull off the gloves she wore. She did as he asked, tossing them with a soft Force-push to land next to his mug in the distance before letting him guide her hands. He moved them both to stand in front of each other, arms bent at the elbow and palms parallel but not touching, their middle and ring fingers on both hands lightly touching each other's pulse points.

"Do you trust me?"

She didn't know why he bothered to ask, knowing what her answer would be.

"Yes."

"Close your eyes."

She complied, feeling his pulse beating soothingly beneath her fingers.

"Through all of the sounds and vibrations around us, pick one. Only one. It will be your guide."

Ahsoka chose the easiest of them to find and latch onto – the one that thrummed beneath her fingers and chased away the hesitation of what she was trying to accomplish.

"Everything else in the world must fall away," Djibourdi's voice sounded like a soft bell, Ahsoka's mind following the instruction. The songs of the birds, the whisper of the wind, even the sound of her breath faded – leaving only the steady rhythm of his pulse behind. It was strange… she could almost place herself where she was standing with her eyes closed. Every beat of his heart illuminated the dark surrounding her and instead of the desire to immediately open her eyes again, she was filled with the urge to follow that rhythm.

"Keep your eyes closed, stay focused. Walk left with me."

She did, her legs moving sideways to begin the crabwalk she had started earlier as her body and head faced him. Their hands stayed hovering apart, their fingers planted softly on each other's pulse points as they moved together as a unit. The rhythm of his heart was so steady, so soothing that when suddenly it disappeared as his hands gripped hers, she opened her eyes to make sure he was still there.

He was, standing stationery in front of her where they had stopped. She wanted to ask him what was wrong or why they had stopped but he curbed those racing thoughts with a soft smile, gesturing to her right where they had come from. She didn't know how to respond other than to gape at the expanse of obstacles they had crossed successfully… and then she took a deep breath, looked back to him, and told him plainly:

"I want to do it again."

He chuckled and complied.

A standard hour later Anakin walked to stand next to the Echani who had summoned him out onto the railing of one of the outlooks, spotting immediately what had grabbed his friend's attention. He wasn't sure when or why the two padawans had climbed their way onto the top of the camp wall until he took count of what they were doing – and all too quickly he had to take stock of just how quickly Ahsoka could learn when things were presented to her.

There they were, both poised and straight-legged on a jutting log a piece, eyes shut and shoulders loose with their hands pressed at their chests as they balanced yards from the ground. Balanced on their bent arms were powered off data pads, indicators on whether the hold was balanced or not. Anakin had never seen his padawan so willing to be still…

They were both still and statue-like until a soft thump, a side effect sound of his current electrical work rerouting power, sounded. At its signal they both jumped, eyes still closed and arms balanced, down onto the next log below them. Then again. And again. Their exercise culminated in their landing smoothly on the ground without a shift of a pebble, those data pads still carefully balanced on their arms when they finally settled back onto the earth.

Whatever odd shift Ahsoka had taken on was quickly shattered at her ecstatic woop, Djibourdi swiftly collecting the data pads that went soaring through the air with a look of mortification. He was relieved when they were all safe back in his grip, amused as he watched his friend gallivant around him with a barely-concealed air of accomplishment. She was nothing but self-confidence….it was a ridiculous amount of self-confidence, but it was something he was willing to let her have.

It was a start.

Anakin reached out to pat Tombur's shoulder.

"You padawan is quite the teacher," he praised, surprised when the scarred temple wrinkled with the Echani's smile.

"I am hoping, Master Skywalker, that yours is as well."

He didn't offer any further wisdom but instead turned to head down the pathway toward his Praetorians, content to leave his apprentice with his friend. For the first time since his master's passing, he had his padawan back with him – and if his hunch was right, Ahsoka would ground him a bit more in the coming hours. The day was young.

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The deepest of respects to Barry Commoner and Serge King for the quotes that I melded. I am a studying ecologist, and those words stay with me – and Djibourdi.