One day rolled into two, and then into three before Ahsoka finally got the opportunity to act on what little information Beru had been able to give her. She had thought of little else since that evening, unsure of what to expect, but desperate to find out for herself.
She went to work each day but she never saw even a flick of Ennen's tunic around the door frame; if she left her office at all it wasn't when Ahsoka was around. She left the children with Owen and Beru; there was something here she didn't understand and she refused to involve them in the uncertainty of it.
Her mind was at war with itself. Surely there was nothing safer than to continue on as she had been; the children were healthy and, for the most part, happy little mites. Was her own curiosity worth upending the balance of their lives? Would it be better to simply accept that there were some things she was not meant to know and move on? But the memory of Ennen's face, hooded in the darkness and then simmering with anger, would flash across her mind and she knew that she could not leave it be. If the children had a right to something then she was going to make damn sure that they received it.
It took her two days to decide and then a further day to try and work out the details. On the morning of the third day she put her gift into her bag, wrestled the children into their clothes, and then again into the speeder and set off for the Larses. She felt slow and sluggish. She wasn't sure if the children could tell or if it was pure happenstance but they seemed determined to be discontent with the world today.
Beru came out to meet her when she arrived and Ahsoka gratefully passed her Leia before turning back for Luke. She turned back to see Leia's face already set into angry lines while Beru shifted her weight from foot to foot, trying to soothe her.
"Oh dear," she said, looking at Leia's mutinous expressions. "As bad as that, is it?"
"You have no idea." Said Ahsoka, tiredly. "It's been tantrums all morning. Leia thinks Luke stole her socks."
Beru looked between the two children. "Aren't they-"
"Identical in every respect?" Ahsoka finished. "Yes. Yes, they are."
She had arrived early that morning, more so than usual, on purpose. She followed Beru into the house and deposited Luke next to his sister on their play mat. She relaxed when she saw Owen in the kitchen; the children could move alarmingly quickly when they didn't have her complete attention and an extra pair of eyes was never amiss.
She mulled over how to frame her question. She intended to ask if they would have the children for a few extra hours that evening. She wanted to learn more about the children's heritage, Ekkreth, and whatever else the slaves would tell her, but she would not bring the children into it before scouting ahead, no matter how much Ennen's anger haunted the doorways and corners of the shop. She closed her eyes briefly to try and think, her mind slow.
When she opened them, Beru was looking at her inscrutably. Ahsoka fought the urge to brace herself against the sudden vertigo and tiredness that had overtaken her.
"Did they keep you up last night?"
Ahsoka tried to smile. "No more than usual."
"You look tired."
Beru was being polite; Ahsoka looked sick. She had noticed it in the mirror this morning. The cramps, the fog, the tiredness. She hadn't been able to choke down her protein pack today, she hadn't been able to stomach even the thought of it. The hollow feeling was almost preferable
She tried for a smile once more but got the feeling it wasn't having the intended effect. "I'll be fine." She said and tried to sound reassuring, which was difficult when she wasn't a hundred percent certain she wasn't swaying where she stood. It looked for a moment as though Beru might have wanted to push the subject but a noise sounded from further in the house, perhaps a door closing or the creak of a floorboard. The moment broke. Ahsoka tried to peer down the hall to see what it was but Owen came over and picked up Luke, standing in the doorway so that she couldn't see any further.
"Why don't we take the children for the night?" Beru asked, drawing her attention once more. "Give you a chance to catch up on some rest."
Normally she would have laughed it off or tried to wave away their concern but it would be far easier for her to ferret out what she wanted to know if she could move freely without worrying about the children.
"Are you sure?" She asked eventually.
Owen snorted and spoke without looking away from Luke, who was determinedly trying to grab his nose. "'Course we are. Now go to work and quit worrying about us. And after that lay down before you fall down."
She left feeling better for the outline of a plan that was already beginning to take shape in her mind. It was a long day at work, a couple of projects, dodging Varn in the hall and meeting Jawas about a possible carburettor which turned out to be nothing more than two fuel injectors crudely welded together. Ennen's door remained closed, though she heard the sound of someone working behind it occasionally, but it didn't bother her as it had in the previous days. Tonight she had a plan.
She waited until the late afternoon when the suns were well into their descent before making an ostentatious display of packing up her work and readying herself for home. It felt a little ridiculous when Ennen wasn't around to see it, and from the state Varn was in she wasn't sure if he would remember this come morning. But still, she packed her things, bid them a cheery farewell and made in the direction for home.
She drove for a few minutes before making a sharp turn down a back alley. She flipped a coin to the man loitering on a nearby doorstep, waited for his nod, and continued her journey onward. A hand on her bag confirmed that she still had her gift. She hadn't been in this particular part of town before but Tatooine was largely similar no matter where you went, and especially so in these parts. Soon enough she was on familiar ground but she stopped a street before she would have hit the market place. She was close to Kuna's home and the slave quarters, but she didn't dare venture any further. Instead, she ducked into the nearest cantina and waited. She wrapped the strap of her bag around her wrist.
The cantina was dark, only a few lamps held in alcoves in the rough hewn walls which threw shadows on the patrons. Ahsoka didn't look too hard at the clientele, afraid of recognising as much as being recognised, but the Force was thick and gelatinous here in a manner which put her teeth on edge. She ordered the cheapest drink she could find from the bar and settled in to wait. She held her drink loosely, mostly for camouflage rather than any real desire to drink it, and began her observation. She wasn't interested in her fellow drinkers, the occasional snatches of conversation she could hear were of little to interest her, but she watched nonetheless. There were two servers here, a young boy and a man, both slaves from the looks of them, and her position near the bar gave her an unimpeded view through the window into the street.
People went to and fro, but after a few degrees she began to see the pattern. The slave quarters resided on the north-east side of the market and from the little she had heard they were a warren of narrow streets and twisting alleys. She watched for the people heading north-east.
It couldn't have been anymore than an hour, but it felt like longer. It hadn't felt right to ask Kuna for details and she had baulked at the idea of asking Ennen, so when the time came Ahsoka slipped from her stool and followed the tide of people heading home at the end of the work day. She kept her head low as she joined them.
Beru had had precious few details to pass along and Ahsoka had been told rightly, the slave quarters were a warren, but she persevered. Often times she felt like she was being observed but even when she turned she could see no eyes from the windows she was passing, nor faces from the doorways. She gritted her teeth against the pervasive sense of nausea that had been dogging her on and off all day. There was no stopping, she told herself, no stopping and no need for it either, she was fine.
People became sparser as she journeyed further until she turned a corner and found herself completely alone. She tried to remember Beru's instructions on finding the Grandmothers but the words blurred in her mind.
She took a deep breath.
Keep going.
Eventually, she began to feel hopeful. That fork in the street reminded her of the one in Beru's instruction and there!—that was surely the courtyard that she had said marked the inner borough of the area. All she had to do now was…
For all the details she had been lacking Beru had described the door well enough for Ahsoka to recognise it when she was stood before it.
It was not grand, nothing here was grand, but it was a double door set high enough for her to have been able to walk through without having to duck for her montrals. It was worn, bolted and set back from the street. She permitted herself only the barest moment of hesitation before stepping forward and rapping her knuckles against it.
She held her bag tightly against her as she waited for it to be answered. She didn't have to wait long. A man, human and dark skinned, opened it and looked her up and down. She opened her mouth to tell him her name but he nodded at her before she could and stepped aside to let her pass.
Silently, she did so. She hadn't known what to expect but there was little here that she would have thought was extraordinary. The walls were stone, as was the floor, though the latter had a frayed and faded rug covering most of it. It reminded her a little of Kuna's home, though it was not so cramped. There were arches instead of doors and Ahsoka could hear voices, many of them, coming from beyond.
At a wave from the man who had let her in she ventured cautiously onward.
She passed through a room, then two, following the sounds of the voices. She wasn't prepared to pass through the final arch and find herself surrounded by people, all of them pressed into the room together and all of them looking at her.
The conversation died.
She tried not to stare but it was hard not to. They were of every age, men, women and children. She counted at least four different species as all of them turned to look at her and she fought to keep herself standing straight. She felt like an interloper.
Some were standing, some sitting, but all now watched her with wary eyes.
In the midst of the choking trepidation of the room Ahsoka saw the woman who she had come to see. Someone leaned forward to whisper in her ear but they were batted away.
The woman who sat in the centre of the room was old, impossibly so. Her skin reminded Ahsoka of creased leather, worn but soft to the touch. Her hair was a stark white against her brown skin, thin at the scalp and wispy. Her knuckles were bulbous and knarled and when she smiled Ahsoka could see that she had few teeth left.
Ahsoka looked at her and walked forward, feeling the eyes of every person in the room on her. When she reached the old woman she stopped at a respectful distance and dropped to one knee. She reached into her bag and drew out the gift she had bought, a canister of water from her own vaporator, more precious than gold.
"For the grandmother who lives here." She said as she laid it on the ground at the old woman's feet. "Grandmother, I come to ask for guidance, my name is-"
She was interrupted by a cackle. "Little Ashla Sokath!" The Grandmother exclaimed as she brought her hands up, "I had wondered when we would see you around these parts. Come, come!"
She leaned forward as though she intended to reach for Ahsoka herself and several worried hands reached out to support her.
Ahsoka stood slowly and breathed against the sudden head rush. She picked up her gift which was swiftly taken by one of the men attending the Grandmother and tried not to feel at a loss.
"You know who I am?" She asked, a little uncertainly.
The Grandmother waved her forward again until Ahsoka was at her chair. Many of the others were sat around her, braiding hair, knitting and other such pursuits. Ahsoka hovered uncertainly before sinking once more to the floor.
Master Obi-Wan had long tried to drill some form of political awareness into her and Anakin both, though it had been somewhat of a lost cause with her Master. But she thought back to that knowledge as she tried not to observe them too obviously. The room was centred around the old woman, she was being watched from every angle. The man who had taken her offering waited on the outskirts of the group, waiting to give the Grandmother the first of the water.
Matrilineal, she thought, a cultural value placed on age. Her observations sounded strangely clinical even to herself in the low light and scrutiny.
The Grandmother's face crinkled as she smiled, her dark eyes glinting from her wrinkled face.
"Oh yes," she said, still smiling, "we've all heard about the woman who raises two Skywalker children as if they were her very own." There was a ghost of a caress against her cheek and Ahsoka fought against the swell of emotion in her chest.
"They are my own." She said lowly, and the woman smiled benevolently once more. More than once had Ahsoka had cause to wish she had Master Obi-Wan's diplomacy or his ability to charm even the more cantankerous diplomats, but strangely she did not wish for it here. With the Grandmother looking down at her like she was a favoured child she felt compelled to answer with nothing but absolute honesty.
"So we have heard. Why have you come here child?"
Ahsoka had the strangest feeling of being watched intently though murmured conversation continued around her. Only the Grandmother looked down into her face. She tried to find the right words, words that had been rattling around in her head since Ennen had looked at her so bitterly.
"I want…" she started before petering out, she tried again. "The children deserve to know where they come from. Their…their father was a slave here and I want them to know their heritage." It was frustrating to hear her words out loud, how paltry they sounded without the details she could never give. She saw Anakin in her mind, on ships, on battlefields and in the Temple. Before him, his mother whom she had never known beyond the grave that she passed every time she visited the Lars homestead, swept clean and well maintained. They would never have their father, he could never even know they existed, but perhaps this much was not lost to them. She could give them this this much of him.
She had almost expected reproach or rebuke but instead she felt a gentle touch at her chin, tipping her face up.
"You want them to know us." Said the Grandmother, "And we want to know them. You are welcome here, Ashla Sokath." With that pronouncement she put a finger in her mouth and dotted it on Ahsoka's forehead. She would have started back but it was as though the room let out a sigh, as a vigilance she couldn't see loosened into something more relaxed. A sign of acceptance, a blessing perhaps.
"Gather, gather! We have a guest and the night is yet young enough for a story!" Called out the Grandmother, her voice low but carrying. Immediately she was the focus of attention and she waved her fellows forward. Ahsoka wondered if she should stand and move away, perhaps to the back of the room, or else let someone else take her place. Only the Grandmother's hand on her shoulder stopped her. A few of the younger ones dropped down on the floor beside her, from children who would barely reach her waist standing to those who looked to be almost of an age with her. Beside her a little girl, Twi'lek and with skin nearly the colour of Ahsoka's own, had taken up her spot and sat with her legs crossed and eyes wide. Around the room adults settled in and made themselves comfortable, leaning on each other and shuffling closer.
"The Krayt dragon!" Shouted out one of the children from her left.
"The slaves who crossed the bridge all the way to the stars!" Called another.
"A story of Ekkreth!" Said one of the adults from the back of them room, only to flush when the Grandmother looked at her.
"There are many stories of Ekkreth. Where to begin?"
"How he brought the rains from the Wastes!"
"The story of the walled city!"
The Grandmother presided over the calls and raised voices with a benign smile. Ahsoka had never heard of any of them. She turned to the little girl next to her.
"Who's Ekkreth?" She whispered. She had heard it often enough but after speaking to Beru she had thought it was a mere translation, the Skywalker name transposed into Amatakka.
The little girl turned to look at her, mouth open. "You don't know?" She whispered. Ahsoka shook her head. The girl grinned, revealing two front teeth that were missing. "He's a shape changer! He comes and frees the slaves and tricks all the masters!" She looked back to the old woman sitting above them and Ahsoka did the same.
A hush fell across the expectant faces as they turned towards the Grandmother.
"A story of Ekkreth, hm? There are as many stories as the Trickster God has faces. Who could forget of the walls that he pulled down in the ancient city of Mos Deeno? Or of the gladiators that he faced in the area of Master Kren?" The Grandmother's voice carried across the room, deep and even, as she mused. Ahsoka found herself falling under its spell, much like the children gathered around her.
"What did he look like?" Someone called out from the back of the room. Ahsoka started at the interruption but the Grandmother grinned.
"Oh, a little like you, I suppose." She said.
"What colour was his hair?" Asked someone to Ahsoka's left.
The Grandmother squinted in the direction of the question. "The same as your own." She answered.
"How tall was he?" Asked the little girl beside Ahsoka, who was fairly buzzing with excitement.
The grandmother smiled as she looked down and said, "Not so different from you, little one."
There was a ripple of laughter as the girl preened. Ahsoka couldn't quite bite back a smile either.
The grandmother settled more comfortably in her chair and tugged her shawl around her shoulders. "Many years ago our story begins in the desert. One day Ekkreth was flying over the dunes in the guise of a great vulture when he heard the sound far off in the distance of a woman crying. He found her sat slumped against the walls of a great city, crying as though her heart was fit to break. He appeared to her as a man of no great consequence, dressed in a simple tunic with no sandals upon his feet.
'Why do you cry, Lady?' He asked when she looked up at him.
The woman looked at him but did not know him, for Ekkreth has many faces. 'My son is dying,' she said when she had caught her breath, 'he does not have enough to eat and the Master will not give us any water.'
Ekkreth looked at the great gates of the city, greater than the tallest dune, sprung from the ground as though pulled up by giants.
'But the harvest has been bountiful this year. Why does your son starve?'
The woman had a sorry tale to tell indeed. 'The Master keeps the harvest under lock and key in his vaults under the palace. He has hired one hundred sell swords who guard the door day and night. He keeps them loyal with great feasts and plentiful cups. When they are finished there are not even enough scraps for us to live on.'
Ekkreth frowned and for a moment the woman perceived a great power in this stranger from the desert.
'Give your son to me, Lady.' He told her, 'Bring him forth to the gate as the suns sink and night grows dark. I come from a land of plenty and I will take him there. I will return him to you well and see that no harm comes to him.'
The woman looked upon this stranger and thought of her son, a small boy with no life left ahead of him, and ran to her home. That night she returned with her son in her arms.
Ekkreth was waiting for her.
He took the child in silence and carried him through the gates of that great city. The woman did not see where he took the child but for three days and three nights she watched the horizon and prayed for her son's safe return.
On the dawn of the fourth morning they came a joyful knock at the door. When she opened it she saw, in amazement, the face of her son. He beamed at her, even as she wept. 'Oh mother, I have come back!' He said as he danced through the room. 'Ekkreth showed me a land of such wonders, a land of flowing water as far as the eye can see, where fruit weighs so heavily on the trees that the branches creak in the wind and gold rises unbidden from the sand. A land beyond the dunes and behind the horizon, where no Master can ever tread!'
The woman cared not for gold and riches but her aching heart was soothed by the sight of her son, his eyes so bright and his cheeks so flushed.
Before long the tale spread among the slaves that Ekkreth walked among them. He would come to them when they were their most desperate, when their hearts failed and their mouths grew dry. He spirited them away to his land beyond the horizon, where the sun never burned them and the rains fell at his command.
Eventually the Master came to hear of these tales, for how could he fail to when each slave came back with their own fantastical tale? Each was different, for everyone had new details to add and new stories of fabled riches to tell.
'Where is this man?' Raged the Master, 'Why should such a man have access to such riches when I have none for myself?'
And so the Master sent for Ekkreth but Ekkreth would not come. Every night, like clockwork, Ekkreth did not come.
The Master grew enraged. He seethed. 'He means to mock me. Very well, double the guard at the gate and follow him should he try to leave my city.'
That night Ekkreth appeared to the slaves once more. This time he took with him a woman, a woman barely more than a girl, and so near death that he took her in his arms to the gate.
The guards followed.
The next morning the guards returned, empty handed.
'He was too quick, Master,' they said, 'no sooner had we caught sight of him than he was gone once more.' The Master fumed and doubled the guard once more.
Two days later the young woman walked through the city gate on her own two feet, singing a tune with high colour in her cheeks. She waved to the dunes where the guards could perceive Ekkreth to be stood.
That night the guards ventured forth to find him once more.
'We could go no further,' they told the Master, 'our way was blocked by a great Krayt dragon and with our numbers so few we dared not attempt to pass.'
The Master howled in his rage. He pulled more and more of his men from the precious vault until the city walls were lined with bodies looking out towards the desert and not a single guard remained looking inward.
After three days of waiting one of the guards suddenly cried out as the suns set upon the horizon. 'There, in the distance!' He cried, 'The crest of a great city, I see the land of Ekkreth!"
He dashed through the gates and began to run. Men looked, and men squinted and soon the cry was taken up all along the wall.
'Ekkreth's homeland!'
'Land of trees and lakes!'
'Land of plenty, land of bounty!'
The Master laughed as his men charged into the desert, sure that he was about to become rich beyond the ken of mortal men.
He did not notice that the wall was empty, that his halls were quiet or that his vault unguarded. He noticed nothing, so caught was he in his dreams.
Until Ekkreth walked through the front gates, unimpeded and unmolested.
The Master looked around him and realised a terrible truth, for indeed he was not alone. Around him on every side were the slaves that he had had whipped and beaten, whom he had denied until the point of death and whom he had kept in terrible fear. There was no one to offer him the protection of their sword, and no one left for him to buy.
Ekkreth drew the great bar across the gate and the Master knew he was done.
'You tricked me!' He whimpered, 'There is no land of plenty, you have sent my men to the desert to die.'
Ekkreth's gaze was cool as he looked upon the man who was no longer a Master. 'I have tricked you.' He agreed, 'I have taken the sick from your number and hidden them from you while I gave them cool water and rest. I have told them to tell you astonishing tales and pique your greed. If you had been an honest man, good and true, you needn't have feared any danger, for an honest man would not seek to rob me. But in one thing I have told nothing but the truth; there is a land of plenty to be had and I have delivered my people to it.'
For a moment the Not-Master's heart gladdened as he thought of his men tearing through the desert, for perhaps they would chance upon this land and bring it back for him.
But behind him, from deep in the palace there came a creaking noise that set his heart to ice. The hinges of the great Vault swung open and the men and women who had once been his household slaves began to bring forth the harvest that he had stolen from them.
All around him the people rejoiced.
As they ate they came upon a choice. What were they to do with the Not-Master who had enslaved them? Some argued for execution, and some argued for clemency. Some asked to put him in chains and have him serve them while still more argued to lock him in the Vault and leave him to starve. At long length Ekkreth stood and raised his hands. His people fell silent.
'Rise above or sink to his level,' he said, 'it seems to me that there is but one option. We must treat this man with the same kindness he has shown to you.'
And so it was that the Not-Master was dragged to the great gates and thrown through them. He was left a thimble full of water, a gift, and more mercy than he himself had ever shown. It is said that he raged through the night and wept when morning came. When he could do neither he beat his hands against the great gate which towered, unflinchingly, before him.
Some say, even now, that when the wind howls and the sand beats against the walls of the city, you can still hear his pleading in the night, begging Ekkreth for a mercy that he does not deserve."
Ahsoka felt as though the air had been stolen from her lungs when she leaned back. She hadn't even realised she had been leaning towards the Grandmother as she spoke, her voice low and becalming. She felt as though she had been lulled under a spell, the story unfolding before her exactly as the old woman spoke. She felt warm, not just from the press of bodies in the room around her but the unifying experience, the sense of harmony that she could feel from the Force.
The Grandmother sat back in her chair and accepted a cup from one of the young women hovering at her elbow, she took a small sip before handing it back. Ahsoka watched as it was passed around the room. Another woman offered her food, Ahsoka had seen her chewing it to make it easier for the Grandmother to eat, but she held up a hand and it was taken away.
The Grandmother seemed content to stay relaxed in her chair while the group before her dispersed, as others took up her mantle and told stories amongst themselves, or gathered all of the children for quiet games. Ahsoka remained where she was, fiercely unsure of her place.
She looked up to see the Grandmother watching her. With a gnarled hand she gestured her closer.
"What did you think of the story, young one?" She asked. Her voice was rougher now, talking for so long having taken its toll. Ahsoka hadn't noticed before.
Ahsoka floundered. She didn't have the words to explain how the story had made her feel, everything she wanted to say didn't sound right or she knew it would come out too trite to be forgiven.
The Grandmother looked at her and Ahsoka saw that she knew what Ahsoka could not find the words for.
"Did you understand the story?" She asked instead, but not without a smile.
it was a much easier question and Ahsoka was glad of it. "I did." She said.
It was different from the stories they had been told in the Temple but Ahsoka could better understand it after living on Tatooine for even the short time that she had. Broken promises, fairness, and absolute justice; she could fit them like jigsaw pieces into her own life. Ekkreth, some small part of her echoed, Ennen was right, the children would need to hear about Ekkreth.
"And did you like it?"
"I did." She said quietly, and found it to be true.
There was more she wanted to say, more questions she wanted to ask but before she could the cup of water was once again returned to the Grandmother. She held it out to Ahsoka.
"Drink, child."
Ahsoka took it uneasily. It had come from her own vaporator, it was true, but there was more at home for her.
"You gave it to me, didn't you?" Asked the grandmother, smiling at her benevolently.
Ahsoka nodded.
"So it is mine to do with as I will. Join us."
Ahsoka had no wish to argue, nor to cause offence with her disrespect. She took the barest sip from the edge of the cup before passing it back. the Grandmother smiled at her once more, the edges of her eyes crinkling with joy. "I am glad you came to us this night, Ashla Sokath. This was but one of many stories about Ekkreth Chain-Breaker. When you come back you will hear more and one day you will bring your children and they will hear for themselves. Come." She gestured Ahsoka forward until Ahsoka was bent over her chair. The Grandmother caught her shoulder with a surprisingly strong grip and Ahsoka bent obligingly under its pressure until the Grandmother pressed a kiss to her brow.
"Go now, Ashla, but come back. There are many stories to share. May the desert winds bring you good fortune."
Ahsoka stood straight when she was released and made her goodbyes, overwhelmed. It wasn't until the cool night air hit her in the winding streets of the slave quarters that she realised how warm she had been. She crossed her arms in front of her and hurried down the path she remembered.
She was fortunate, she told herself, fortunate to be free, to be able to care for the children and to have a home to go to. Even if she left alone to go to her empty house for the night she was still fortunate.
But there was none of the warmth and steady companionship to be had outside in the night. For a moment there, lost in the story, she had forgotten that she was alone in the galaxy. Perhaps not totally alone, for she had the children, but they depended entirely on her for everything. There was Owen and Beru but she loathed to take more from them than she already had. There was no one left who knew her. She used to feel like a part of something bigger than herself, the Temple, the Order, even just her lineage, and for a moment tonight she had felt that again, but it was like looking in from the outside. For a moment the hem of bodies and intent focus had reminded her of the camaraderie of the clones, their brotherhood of millions into which she was accepted and included. She missed Rex.
She shivered again and hurried forward.
It didn't take her long to find her way back to her speeder, nor to steal back through the dunes to her own homestead. It was dark when she walked though the door and even when she flicked on the lights it felt cold and empty, something intrinsic missing with the children gone to Owen and Beru.
She laid in bed that night trying to sort through her thoughts. If she still meditated she would have done so but she had not had the time since she arrived on Tatooine and she was too tired to try and start now. Even so, she let her thoughts pass though her mind, separate from herself, and tried to calm herself.
She wondered if Anakin had listened to those same stories as a child. If he too had sat at the knee of a Grandmother and been told of Ekkreth Chain-Breaker. She wondered if he had ever thought about those he had left behind, and if had ever wanted to go back to them.
Sleep came swiftly while she was still thinking of the story she had been told that night, of a man in the desert, windswept and hair sun-faded, whose familiar face she did not recognise, looking straight through her.
Her morning ran a lot smoother wit the twins gone but Ahsoka found a certain relief in leaving the sudden quietness of home to go and collect them. She knew that Beru would likely offer to keep them for the day if she phoned ahead which was exactly why she had left without calling. She felt unsteady after her night, a little fragile and a little scraped raw after leaving the winding streets of the slave quarter. She couldn't shake the feeling of the little girl pressed up against her side as the Grandmother spun her story, only a child and yet enslaved since birth. The thought of Luke and Leia in her place made her glad she was in her speeder alone, no one to see if she pushed it to its limit to reach the children.
She didn't feel quite right even as she greeted Owen and Beru, though she was careful to smile and thank them. She couldn't quite separate the nausea that seemed to follow her everywhere now from the nameless emotion that arose when she thought of the little girl while she held her children in her arms. Leia was cooperative as Ahsoka strapped her into the speeder, whereas Luke seemed to be determined to grab at whatever he could find and jam it into her mouth.
"Thank you." She said once more to Owen who had come to see her off.
He nodded but didn't answer, but even his customary laconic farewell couldn't quite disguise the way he looked at her, a crease between the brow, a pinch to the mouth. She made sure to smile brightly before she left; she didn't need to worry anyone else.
She talked to the children for the entire drive about anything that passed through her head. The drive usually lulled them to sleep by the time they reached the outskirts of the city but both were still awake by the time they hit paved roads and the constant stream of babbling had made Ahsoka's smile more genuine by the time she pulled around to the back of the garage.
She paused before unloading the children. Normally she had no fear of running into Varn on the shop floor, but today she wasn't sure she would be able to take it, the Grandmother's story of Masters still fresh in her mind. She looked, the shop was empty. There was no one there and despite the early hour she would be willing to bet Varn was already in some hole in the wall and likely to stay there. She took the children from the car and set them up in their usual area.
She'd childproofed it as best she could and the children seemed as content there as anywhere but the idea of finding some kind of daycare for them floated through her mind. It didn't feel right to keep asking Owen and Beru when they had given so much but nor did having them spend all their lives in the shop seem any better. She had heard from some of the repeat clients that came by that the Darklighter family, who had children only slightly older than the twins, ran something of an informal school. She watched as Luke dragged himself to standing with the bars she had set up to keep them from the work floor and look over it. She didn't know how early she could enrol them in any kind of school but their curiosity about the chop shop was beginning to seem like an omen for trouble. Schooling would be another expense, to be sure, but a necessary one.
She forced her mind from the children and to her day's work. She had several projects on the go and her docket was full, but the closest deadline was still several days away. She tried to focus her mind on the tasks at hand, lest it wander to the previous evening, but with limited success. As noon crept up on her she sighed and gave up; she had made some progress but not enough. She glanced over at the twins. They had tired themselves out over the course of her work and eventually drowsed themselves into a nap. She'd wait a little longer to give their lunch. Her own protein pack was visible in her back, entirely unappetising.
In the meantime she pushed away the oscillator that Julen Lightfuller had dropped by the previous day and pulled her new project towards her.
The Med-droid that was one of her few holdovers from Before was basic and mostly unsuited to what she needed, but she had little in the ways of materials to play with. She was unsure if it would have been able to protect the children as she had asked it to on the night that Cen's men had attacked, had it come to that. She'd had the vague idea of trying to modify it into something more useful but she'd only found the time to try in the few scant half hours she could find at work and the moments before tumbling into bed.
Her first goal was to try and integrate a voice box. Perhaps not the most pressing of issues, but a simple one and something that she was sure was within her ability.
Forty minutes later she was revising her hasty opinion.
It was possible she was using an incompatible program but she was becoming increasingly convinced that the droid could talk but was choosing not to, probably just to be contrary. She was probably imagining the smug aura, she told herself. Then again, Artoo had never needed to speak basic to be understood.
She missed Artoo.
She reached out again to adjust the voice modulation box only to flinch back when she got a sharp shock for her troubles.
"Fuck you too." She muttered under her breath, shaking out her hand. She glanced guiltily at the children; still sleeping. She should probably look into the school sooner rather than later if she wanted to be able to tell people what their first words had been.
"Bad time?" Came a voice from the door.
Ahsoka looked around sharply but it was only Ennen. She was unsure if Varn would be able to recognise a personal project from a work one but she had no desire to find out. But if Ennen was wandering around freely then Varn hadn't returned yet.
"Not at all." She said cautiously, and watched as Ennen crossed the threshold. There was a heavy sort of feeling in her chest, something closer to trepidation than guilt but pulled between the two.
"No children?" Asked Ennen with what might have been disappointment. Ahsoka pointed to where they lay sleeping and Ennen looked over to them and brightened.
"They're quiet today." She murmured, obviously trying not to wake them.
Ahsoka swallowed. "They stayed with their aunt and uncle last night."
Ennen looked back at her, her gaze direct. "You went to see the Grandmothers."
It wasn't a question and Ahsoka was at a loss. She wondered if she should stand but Ennen dropped to the floor across from her, the half disassembled droid between them.
"I did." She said eventually.
"Why?"
She paused again before answering. She didn't want a repeat of their last conversation, it felt important that Ennen understood her.
"You were right." She said, and resisted the urge to pick at the droid in front of her to have something to do with her hands. "I don't know enough about what it means to bear the name Skywalker. The man I knew…" She swallowed and tried again, "It doesn't matter. I'm raising them now and I want to do it right. I want them to know where they came from. I want them to be happy."
She could have stopped there, Ennen was still looking at her but she could have stopped. Instead words continued to tumble from her and she wasn't sure she could stop them if she tried.
"I know I'm free Ennen, and I know what a gift it is." Zygerria had been a life time ago and though the stint had been brief the effects had been long. She pressed on, "I know, trust me. But I have lived. I've seen enough of the galaxy, done enough that…it doesn't matter. I've known hardship too. That's why I offered to help you. I'm not trying to..to trip you up or anything."
She couldn't look up come the end of her halting little speech but she felt the well of loneliness within her. Perhaps it was selfish when she had more than most on this backwater planet but she remembered all too well that day when she hoped Ennen might be a friend and instead had had to face her own misconstrued, but still thoughtless, words. She wasn't sure she would be able to take it so well a second time.
But when she looked up Ennen wasn't angry. She looked uncomfortable. Much as Ahsoka herself did, she imagined.
"I would like to…apologise." Ennen said eventually, and then waved off Ahsoka's protests. "I was quick to judge when perhaps I shouldn't have been. People have not been generally…helpful in my past experience." Ahsoka smiled at her tentatively and, to her relief, Ennen smiled back. It felt like a knot loosening in her chest, the air clearer between them. "I am sorry for implying you knew nothing of loss." She said again. "And I wanted to say that— if you wanted to— I would be glad to listen."
The offer took her by surprise and for a single moment an instinctive denial sat on her tongue. But…well, she was lonely. She had no doubt if she turned down this peace offering Ennen would be unlikely offer again. Her mind was already turning, translating her past into a story that she could offer to Ennen freely. Her mind cast Master Obi-Wan as a father, Master Plo into a favourite uncle and Anakin, Anakin would be a treasured brother. It hurt to even think about but she tried to smile.
"I'd like that." She said, "One day I'd like that."
She desperately tried to think of something to say in return. She wanted to blurt out her questions about that night, to ask where Ennen had been going, why the secrecy but the peace between them felt new and fragile. She was saved by the sound of Leia grousing as she began to wake.
Ennen grinned, swift and brilliant, as she leapt to her feet. Ahsoka struggled to her feet behind her, but Ennen hardly noticed. Ahsoka could hear her already speaking to Leia her voice a low and pleased hum.
"It must be time for your meal, little one, I'm sure your aunt has- Ashla?"
Ahsoka's vision browned out as the head rush refused to receded. "I'm fine." She ground out, trying to stay upright. Her hand fumbled for something to support her but found only warm flesh. She gripped it tightly until her vision slowly began to return. She was breathing heavily by the time she was able to right herself. "Head rush." She said. She released Ennen's arm. "It happens."
She went to move to the twins but Ennen stopped her.
"How long as that been happening?" She asked.
"It's nothing."
But Ennen refused to be prevaricated. "How long?"
"A little while." Ahsoka hedged and considered trying to get by her. "It's not serious, it's just a vitamin thing.
Ennen looked down at Ahsoka's bag, the protein pack visible within. But whatever she was expecting to happen next it wasn't for Ennen to reach out and flick one of her montrals.
"Are these for decoration?" Ennen asked.
"What? No of course not." Ahsoka said, head ringing uncomfortably from the vibration.
"Oh, so then you are a Togruta. And the last time I looked Togrutas eat a carnivore diet." She stooped to grab the protein pack and read the back of it. "These aren't going to do you any good." She said flatly.
"They've done alright for the last year." Ahsoka said defensively, despite the fact that she knew Ennen was right. They weren't meant as anything more than a holdover and she'd been subsisting on them for months, with barely any scraps of meat in-between. The effects had only gotten worse.
"A year?" Ennen gaped, "Stars above, even Jabba gives his Togrutas meat."
"What?" Said Ahsoka, startled at the familiar name.
Ennen looked at her for a long moment. "I was a dancing girl, before." She said eventually. "Before I was bought from Jabba I was a dancer at his palace. There were many girls there, some of them Togruta. He gave them meat, it's all they can stomach." There was a long pause before Ennen said, with a small amount of humour, "You don't believe me."
"No, no, I do-"
But it was too late, Ennen rose to the point of her toes and, with a quick glance at her surroundings, span a perfect pirouette, both arms raised and one leg extended gracefully behind her.
Ahsoka laughed despite herself. Ennen straightened herself and smiled back.
"How did you end up here?" Ahsoka asked her before she could stop herself.
But Ennen didn't look offended. "I was at the Palace longer than I can remember. They started to train me as a dancer when I was a child until I was out there with all the other girls. Dancers don't usually last long and most of them would sell each other out for a crust of bread but I had an unusual run of good luck; one or two loyal patrons, no major injuries and no fatherless children."
"Fatherless…? Oh."
"But you won't see any old dancers out there no matter how skilled. I was coming to the end of my run when one of my regulars asked if I had a head for numbers. I had no idea but I said I did. She bought me the very next day. I was lucky, it turns out accounts aren't that difficult and I had this place back on steady footing within a month."
"She?"
"Master Varn's sister used to own this place."
"Used to?"
"Used to. He inherited the business a few years ago now. As far as Masters go, I've had worse. This one only beats me for things I've actually done, and even then only when he catches me."
It had the cadence of a mischievous joke but Ahsoka couldn't laugh. It had receded to the back of her mind but once more she remembered the Grandmother's story.
Leia grumbled again, more persistently, and both of them looked towards the children.
"You need to eat." Ennen said, somewhat more gently, "If not for yourself, then for them."
Ahsoka shifted uncomfortably. It was a strange thing to have someone berate her out of care once more—
(No, don't reverse the grip, Snips, and stop shifting your weight back when you parry. Young one, please do try and remember that the kitchen can be used to wash the plates as well as store them)
—especially when she wished she could comply.
"There's not always enough to go around." Was all she said, but Ennen nodded. Ahsoka was sure that if anyone could understand, it would be an accountant. She made enough for them to survive, for the twins to thrive, but little more. The threat of some unforeseen emergency or looming disaster on the horizon always cautioned her against spending what little leftovers she managed to squirrel away.
"You live out in the Dunes, don't you?" Ennen asked eventually.
"We do." Ahsoka said with some confusion.
"Then you've probably seen the herds that roam around that way." Ennen said slowly, "Bantha is at a premium and poaching is illegal but, perhaps, if someone was quick and only took one every so often…well, a single bantha could get lost in the Dunes and not make its way home."
Ahsoka had seen the herd several times as she travelled to and from the city. She wouldn't want to guess at the size of it but she had thought it looked substantial. She'd never seen them up close.
"Aren't they…big?" She asked.
Ennen raised an eyebrow. "People talk around here you know, and you should hear what they've been saying about you. I wouldn't have thought they'd give you too much trouble."
She wanted to ask what was being said about her but she could imagine it all too well. It had been the point in those early days, building up a reputation that made people think twice about going where they weren't welcome.
"It's not that." She said, "It's just… that's a lot of meat."
There was a tentative hope unfurling in her chest. She'd thought about hunting once or twice before but it had never seemed worth the risk of getting caught, of risking not being able to be with the children just because she was struggling. But Ennen was right, it was getting dangerous now. She needed to be able to protect the children and at this rate she wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to keep going. The small voice, relic of a bygone time, that asked who was going to look after her was inconsequential.
"You've got a cellar, don't you? Most places do." Ennen leaned back and looked at her speculatively, and Ahsoka had the abrupt feeling of being evaluated, but this time, not coming up lacking. The warmth between them was something she hadn't known she had wanted so desperately. "And there's always people who need a little more help than they're willing to let on. Tell me, how well can you make a krayt call?"
The suns were sinking low by the time she summited the tallest dune in the vicinity, sledge in tow. The air was cooling, and would soon be cooler still, but when she had had to use her hands to scrabble up the side of the dune she could feel the heat that was still coming off the sand. Night was always cold in the desert but she had wanted the extra assurance of the dying light to make sure she wasn't spotted.
She knelt atop the dune and looked out across the desert. Even now Tatooine had the ability to steal her breath at the oddest of moments. In the dying sunlight the horizon was painted in burnished gold, the sky streaked with everything from the deepest blues to the softest pinks. The desert had become a masterpiece of chiaroscuro; the sands the warmest yellow where the sunlight lingered, and the deepest black where the peaks cast their shadows. Even as she watched the shadows grew longer.
She drew a deep breath and tried to centre herself. It was easier than she might have expected. The children were at home under the watchful eye of the Med-droid and she was utterly free of distraction. She let her senses wander across the flat plains as far as she dared stretch them. It was as she expected, she was alone. She could feel the simple minds of the bantha herd below her, in the valleys and dips of the dunes, but there was little else.
She had had to think carefully about how she was going to approach them. She may have been a natural predator but all of her formal hunts had been on Shili, where the jungle had proved to be her biggest advantage and most challenging obstacle. The herd was far enough away that they would not be able to see her as she began her slow descent and she had been careful to stay downwind.
As she grew closer she slowed. She was screened by the curvature of the dunes but she was near enough to smell them now. They were great shaggy beats, more imposing than they had seemed at a distance. Beru had once told her that Tusken Raiders would sometimes use them as mounts, but only up close could she fully believe it. They had great spiralling horns, curved back on themselves, but Ahsoka didn't fear them. Beasts of burden that they were, she had hunted far more dangerous animals before and for much less pressing reasons. She didn't even have her sabers on her. She had taken to wearing them less now that she was more established in the city. Sometimes she was worried that the temptation would be too much and that her startled hand would reach for a saber when it should have reached for a gun and they would be right back where they were a year ago. Both of her sabers were in a box, tucked under the floorboards of her bed, hidden away with two others that she still could not look at.
She had her blasters at her belt but they wouldn't be enough to finish the job, she knew. The banthas' hides were far too thick for a blaster, it wouldn't be clean and that was not how she was taught to hunt though she found herself with little choice now. She went through her pack until she found the only knife she had been able to find on short notice, one from her own kitchen. Blunt but hopefully serviceable.
She abandoned her sledge at the foot of the dune and continued onwards on silent foot.
She felt instinct hum beneath her skin as she prowled forward. Even half starved she could feel the almost forgotten excitement of a hunt. It was easy to assess the herd. She was coming up behind them, the main body still somewhat distant. Her eyes flitted over them- there. That was the one she wanted.
The animal that caught her attention was neither the closest nor the largest, but it was close enough for her to catch if it spooked and that was what mattered. She had no eye for that sort of thing but it looked healthy enough.
She waited for a moment at the foot of the dune. She unclipped the blaster from her belt. It was crude and unsuited to the task but she was beyond caring. She crouched. She observed the herd while she waited for a clear line of sight. They paid her little heed and must have been used to people corralling them. She palmed the knife into her waiting hand.
The great beast heard something in the distance, it raised its shaggy head from the ground as though listening. It was all the opportunity Ahsoka needed. She squeezed the trigger and watched in satisfaction as the shot took the animal in the head. She had known it wasn't going to be enough to kill a full grown bantha but it bellowed in pain and staggered on unsteady feet. Instinct took over and she was sprinting before conscious thought had even formed in her mind. She leapt, coming down in a high arc upon the struggling beast. She had the impression of frantic movement, pain, confusion and then nothing as she drove her knife through its eye. The great beast slumped beneath her.
She was breathing hard. Even that small exertion had her arms shaking. She barely noticed the thunder of the fleeing herd, it was unimportant to her. She stood slowly. She didn't give herself time to rest but went instead to her sledge and dragged it over to her quarry. She unpacked it quickly, it held what bags she could scrounge and a good deal of tarpaulin which plentiful at the shop.
The bantha was a large animal and it took a lot of shifting and grunting until she had it positioned to her liking. She hadn't had to field dress anything for a long time but she didn't find it too hard to remember.
She sawed her knife through the thick skin and split the carcass. Her knife made a horrible job of the hide but, nevertheless, she persisted. Immediately, in the cooling air, she felt the heat escape from its body. She ran her tongue over her teeth and continued. She was unfamiliar with bantha but she had hunted large game before and it was a vaguely familiar process to cut through hide muscle and membrane. She didn't care when innards spilt out onto the sand but she took great care to keep the meat from touching either sand or hair. She cut away great slabs of meat and flesh from the animal. The smell of it set her mouth to watering but she continued to wrap her bounty carefully and place it on her sledge. The animal was too large for her to take everything that she would have liked; she would have no way of hauling everything back to her speeder. Organ meat, innards and bones she would have to leave though the thought of waste was already foreign to her.
She was bloody up to her elbows as she started to finish up. It was a small comfort that at least the animal wouldn't be wasted. She had no doubt that as soon as she left the scavengers would arrive and soon there would be no trace of her poaching and even less of her butchery. She rocked backwards and surveyed her work. She had made a hash of it and there was a time she would have been ashamed of the whole affair but now the only thing she could feel was a rush of relief.
She went to leave but hesitated. There was so much she couldn't bring with her but perhaps there was one thing that she didn't have to leave behind. She reached back into the beast, through into the chest cavity and, after no small amount of tugging and cutting, came back with her prize. She held its heart it her hands, still cooling in the evening air.
She could wrap it and take it with her-
Her teeth sank into the flesh. No sooner had she had the thought she was tearing into it, teeth sharp and hands gripping tightly. The taste of it, the taste of real food flooded her every sense. It was such physical relief that she felt her body sag. Rich and slick, she chewed through the lean muscle, uncaring of the smears she could feel on her cheeks. Sweet and almost metallic, she could not recall having eaten anything so fine in her entire life.
She gasped as she finished it and leaned back. There was a hunger awoken in her that she had not felt since she first started on the protein packs but she knew better than to gorge herself. Even so, it was easier to secure the sledge and begin the walk back tot he speeder. Once she summited the dune again she looked back. The sand was red where she had worked but she had no doubt it would not remain so for long. She looked at her sledge. Packed precariously high with meat it looked like security. She had debts that she intended to pay and gifts to make, but even so there was more than enough for her for a little while yet.
The trek back to the speeder felt like hardly any distance at all. She wasn't a fool; she knew the damage and deprivations to her body could not be fixed by a single meal but it was the promise of more that sustained her. The promise of health and strength on the horizon. In no time at all she was speeding back over the dunes into familiar territory. She had much to do before the suns rose, and she would be tired tomorrow no doubt, but she didn't care.
Night had only just fallen by the time she reached the Lars homestead.
She pulled in and looked for a moment. She didn't feel for Owen and Beru in their home but she could see the lights on in the house. She knocked on the door.
The door opened a crack and then fully when Beru saw it was Ahsoka.
"Ashla." She said, sounding almost wary, "We weren't expecting you."
Ahsoka smiled at her. "I can't stay but I have something for you."
Beru stepped through her door, closing it behind her so Ahsoka couldn't see into the house. She followed her into the speeder and made a small noise of shock when she saw the haul stacked in the back.
"Poaching's illegal you know." She said eventually, but without recrimination.
"Maybe." Said Ahsoka, "But seems like the real crime would be letting it go to waste."
"Can't argue with that." Came Owen's voice from behind them. "Besides, it'd be stranger if someone wasn't breaking some type of law around here."
Ahsoka looked over and smiled once more. She hadn't heard him approach but she was glad he was there. She turned back to the speeder and began separating the parcels into piles.
"This is for you." She said, handing some of them over to Beru. "I want you to have it."
Beru's eyes were round and even Owen looked faintly impressed by the quantity she had handed over. Ahsoka had a better measure of what a single person needed to survive in this place and while Owen and Beru weren't struggling she knew she had just handed over enough to keep them in meat for weeks, longer if they preserved it.
Beru looked at her and Ahsoka couldn't place the expression, uncertainty or worry or something in between but her voice was gentle when she spoke. "You know we don't want any payment from you for caring for the children, don't you? You should keep-"
Ahsoka smiled again, relieved. "It's not about that. You said family, right? You've helped me so much. Let me help back."
Beru looked like she wanted to say something again but Owen reached across and took half the weight from her arms. "Then we'll say thank you and leave it at that. You want to come in?"
There was a bubble of anticipation in her chest when she answered. "Can't. You're not my last stop."
It took a few more minutes but their goodbyes were brief and before long she was back in the speeder and flying across the desert back towards Mos Eisley. It was a familiar route even in the dark. She wound through the streets, past the shop and the market, past Kuna's abode with the windows already dark. She could hear revellers in the distance but the streets were empty. She killed the engine. She was close to the entrance of the slave quarters once more. Her sledge would be no good here so she bundled as many of the packages into her arms as she could and set off. It was easier than her first foray had been now that the streets were known to her. It was a shorter journey than she remembered, and she quickly found herself outside of the double door that she had stepped through days ago. The streets were dark and deserted but she felt watched from every angle. Empty window frames looked out into the street and she could not discern whether long experience or paranoia made the back of her neck prickle. Carefully, she laid her packages on the doorstep and stood back.
She looked up. With a deep breath and a short run up she leapt to the roof. With only a small nudge of the Force, she landed on silent foot and hunkered down. She cupped her hands to her face as Ennen had showed her and blew a breath through her fingers. She had no comparison to know if it sounded like the call of a Krayt but the note shivered through the still air. She took a second breath and repeated it. It was almost haunting in the silence. She waited. Just as she was contemplating a third attempt a noise grabbed her attention.
Below her, one of the tall wooden doors inched open, creaking on its hinge. At first, nothing and then- a gasp. The slap of feet on a floor and then the almost silent murmur or two people below. She laid flat against the roof and watched as below her she saw two men, one of them a familiar face from her last visit, look at the gift she had left them. After a moment, he raised his hands to his mouth and made the same call as Ahsoka had.
As she watched, doors from all down the street opened. At least five people came forth silently and looked at the parcels she had left. It was a lot of food, almost as much as she had given Owen and Beru, and no doubt far richer than their usual fare. She watched as the meat was gathered hurriedly and distributed without a word said between them.
The whole exchange could barely have last a few minutes before the last door was closed and the last light extinguished and yet Ahsoka laid there watching a little while longer.
At first she could make no sense of what she felt, for surely a single square meal couldn't have such a profound effect on her. What she felt went far beyond simple physical nourishment.
It was only as she began her journey back homewards, jumping from rooftop to rooftop before shinning down a pipe, that she recognised what she felt. There had been moments where she felt like herself in this place, small moments where she could recognise the parts of the person she had been that had survived what her life had become, but this was the first time she could truly say she had felt like a Jedi once more. Perhaps it was a small a gesture but she had helped these people and for a moment it had felt no different than when she had done so before, a lifetime ago. So much of her recent life had been mired in selfishness, if not for her own sake, then for the sake of the children. Even now the thought of Bail and Breha cause her chest to tighten in guilt. It was easy to lose herself in the mad rush to survive and provide for the twins but it meant more to her than she could have imagined to know that this, the urge to help, was a part of her still.
Even before she had come to this palace and her entire life had fallen apart there were those who had dissented within the Jedi ranks, those who had struggled to reconcile their role as peacekeepers with the war in which they found themselves. She hadn't understood at the time; it had been the war in which she was raised. Only now, with the memory of what food could mean to people who had none so fresh in her mind could she see the truth.
One day, no matter how far away it seemed now, the reckoning would come and the children would need to know where they came from. She would need to teach them, teach them of the Jedi, of the Order and everything in between. It wasn't something she could do if she remained on the outside, only looking after her own. She was going to help these people, and teach the twins everything she wished she had been taught.
The Jedi, unintentionally and with what she had to believe were good intentions, had strayed, and she along with it. She would stray from it no longer.