I'm SO SORRY for delaying longer with posting this chapter…it was a very difficult one to write. At least you're getting the longest chapter so far... (Note that future chapters will probably also be a bit slow in coming as I've exhausted now all of my pre-written chapters, but I'm determined to stay on top of it.)
Warning with this one…more on the darker angst side of things. (And again, I'm no medical expert.)
"Well, well, lookie what we have down here…"
Din's blood chilled at the taunting voice above and his muscles tensed. Still cradling a trembling Cara in his arms, he directed his gaze upward and noted the fiery halo of light shining around the silhouetted figure peering over the edge of the hole above.
"Looks to me like this will be easier than shooting a couple of kruller fish in a barrel!" Mercurius's redheaded second-in-command barked with a snuffled, crazed laugh just before the unmistakable "click" of a rifle's hammer cocked into position.
Din didn't waste another second. Leaping to his feet, the Mandalorian launched himself upward and spread his body and legs wide to wedge himself in the hole. He knew he risked taking a bullet or two, but staying put was a literal dead end for all of them. As fast as he could manage and push his muscles, Din shifted upward in the hole even as the barrel of the rifle swung over the edge and pointed downward towards him. A familiar mewl of worry resounded below, and Din suddenly felt himself propelled upward at an alarming rate.
Whoa, easy, ad'ika…
The Mandalorian managed to raise his forearm just in time to redirect the rifle's barrel as he rocketed upward, the released bullet sailing clear above his head with a loud crack. The two men collapsed in an awkward heap at the edge of the hole as the Force's grip released Din. The aged weapon bounced out of reach and disappeared somewhere in the surrounding carpet of leaves unseen. Din heard Cara shout his name from below, but he was too focused on his enemy to reply. Thankfully, Din had the upper hand by landing on top of the wild redhead. His wrestling skills kicked in full swing as he hurried to straddle his opponent. Though Din bested him in weight, his enemy far surpassed him in speed. With the quickness of a fox on fire, the spastic man wriggled himself out from underneath Din and promptly shoved the heel of his boot upward into Din's chin. A grunt, more out of annoyance than pain, growled out of Din's lips as his body's center of gravity tilted backward. Capitalizing on the momentum, Din swung his own leg around to reciprocate toward the man's already injured nose. The redhead barked a disjointed cry of surprise as the hit landed before rolling sideways on the mountain's incline and scrambling away to achieve distance to recover himself.
Poor decision.
Din quickly pursued his opponent to close the distance and push the offensive. The scuffle continued on the forest's sloped floor for a few minutes more, but in the end the local hunter was no match for the Mandalorian warrior. Din soon wrestled him easily into a choke hold and slowly but surely squeezed the man's airway toward unconsciousness. As the man writhed and sputtered in Din's strong arms, a small yet sharp pain suddenly pierced the Mandalorian's thigh. For the first few seconds Din ignored it and continued to squeeze. But as the minute wore on, he found he was struggling to command his muscles tighter.
Uh oh.
It only took a few seconds more before Din's entire body grew slack and the jittery redhead weaseled out of his captor's grip, coughing harshly. As the warrior's arms and legs involuntarily twitched in a sluggish manner, Din felt himself sink to the forest floor like a puddle of dianoga slime. He managed to twist his body slightly so he'd at least land on his back and happened to catch a glimpse of his thigh just as his heart rate and breathing dangerously slowed.
A very small dart lay nestled and embedded in his jeans.
Dank farrik, not again.
The realization of the tranquilizer hit Din the same time it registered with the now free second-in-command. Scrambling in an uncoordinated fashion to his feet, the redhead staggered before Din with a crazed look in his eye. An ornery grin split wide across his face at the Mandalorian's unfortunate predicament, and a devilish giggle hiccupped from his mouth.
"Uh oh…looks like the hunter just got hunted!"
Din was just about tempted to contemplate whether this goon was more or less annoying than the sewer-crawling cyborg that had tranqued him on Mandalore—more annoying—when the redhead slid a hunting knife from his boot and eyed him eagerly.
Definitely more annoying.
As the drug further lured his system into paralysis, Din watched the man tighten his grip on his blade and begin to come toward him. His lungs fought against the tranquilizer, a sense of panic trapped inside his chest. Even his eyes struggled to follow his enemy as he stalked closer—but when the redhead moved just outside of his direct line of sight, something else caught the Mandalorian's eye.
Scratches…
The deep grooves in the massive tree behind the second-in-command were obviously faded and older but were also unmistakable. The words of both Cara and the elderly caretaker resurfaced in Din's memory and provided a new strategy. Regathering every ounce of strength he had left, the Mandalorian waited.
"Not so tough now, are ya?" scoffed the hunter hoarsely, quivering with a twitchy energy. His nose was freely bleeding down his face again, drowning his raspy tone. He took his time inching closer, the slender hunting knife brandished tauntingly before him. "You know, for a so-called 'warrior' you aren't so clever after all…"
Just one more step… Din's muscles screamed in pending tension, scrambling for dominance over the drug pulsing through his system. Meanwhile, the fiery fiend licked his own blood from his lips before taking one final, fatal step forward.
"Can't wait until I tell the guys that I was the one who trapped the Mandalorian," he boasted. But the man of few words couldn't help but have the final say.
"More like the other way around."
Then with all his might, Din forcefully swung his right leg toward his opponent, effectively sweeping the man's own feet out from under him. The sudden action surprised the redhead who fell backward to the ground and succumbed to gravity's pull down the mountain's incline. Unable to slow his rolling momentum, the maniacal local tumbled towards the foot of the giant, scarred conifer—and into the hidden, waiting jaws of death nestled under the blanket of needles and leaves.
The sharp, metallic snap of one of Alden's hunting traps reverberated in the air along with the unmistakable wet crunch of flesh and bone. A spray of blood shot upward and across the dooming claw marks in the tree's bark, serving as a crude headstone. Din's chest heaved from the exertion, any last ounce of mobility now gone. He was unable to see the carnage, but he judged from the deafening silence that the threat had been eradicated.
But as was common in his experience, where one danger was eliminated, another much worse soon rose to take its place.
"I must admit…that was a good show."
Din heard the hellishly calm voice before he was actually able to see Ernesh Mercurius cross in front of his vision from out of the woods and lingering haze of smoke still in the air. A tranquilizer gun lay cradled in his arm. A foreboding chill rippled through Din's still spine.
How long had he been watching?
"And I appreciate you saving me a bullet," mused the Alderaanian as he inspected the fresh, dead body of his second-in-command as casually as one would inspect produce at a market. The man's back was toward Din but judging from his tone, remorse was the furthest thing in Ernesh's mind. The hunter bent to pick up and pocket the redhead's knife before turning back toward Din. "I couldn't have him steal my chance at hunting down a Mandalorian, now could I?" Ernesh smiled pleasantly as he strolled over and crouched directly next to Din, looming possessively over him like a predator over its prey. A growl rumbled within Din's chest, but his body no longer responded to his commands—not even his vocal cords. The drug sluggishly pulsed through his system, allowing only his eyelids to blink, his lungs to expand, and his heart to beat enough to keep him conscious. The extreme vulnerability was more than disconcerting. Ernesh sensed Din's frustration and unease and chuckled in a way one might react toward an amusing, little child. His stone cold eyes flagrantly swept over Din's prone frame, clearly savoring his position to soak in the warrior's defenselessness. Din's skin crawled as he watched his enemy absorb his body, and he couldn't help but crave his beskar yet again. "Don't even try to deny your Mandalorian identity," Ernesh dismissed as he scooted closer with an unnatural, wicked gleam in his eye. Leaning forwards, the psychopath reached out and ever so slowly began to undo the top button of Din's shirt near his throat.
No…please no…
The unwanted closeness made Din's breathing involuntarily speed up as his skin was gradually exposed. His increased respirations were painfully obvious and only made Mercurius's smile twitch wider, knowing he'd hit a nerve. "Shhh, shhh," the deranged hunter calmed his prey as he continued to leisurely proceed with undoing each button down the line one at a time. Din's entire being silently screamed. Having his physical space breached without consent in such a manner only compounded the deeper violation felt in his soul. The sensation of panic threatened to engulf him as his body begged him to escape, but he was powerless to move.
It was the helplessness of the cellar all over again—only worse.
The Mandalorian's eyes couldn't help but glance downward and watch his enemy's deliberately invasive ministrations. Ernesh's gaze, however, remained trained on Din's face, savoring the man's extreme discomfort. "We hunters recognize one another, don't we?" the enemy purred, his hands deftly handling each button with very slow precision and care. It was impossible for Din to ignore the sensation of the light fluttering of the fabric or the occasional brush of his captor's fingers against the soft flesh of his abdomen as he worked his way downward. "We recognize that ingrained nature to kill. Can sense that same primal thirst for blood in each other's veins…that same desire to get our hands dirty on our prey." Ernesh tugged the tail end of Din's shirt out from his pants' waistband and neatly split the material in two, fully exposing the man's bare, mottled chest to the early morning air. Din's flesh cringed as Ernesh paused to take in the mosaic of bruises—almost as if he were enjoying a work of art. The hunter then lifted the sharp tip of the hunting knife to his right pectoral muscle and lazily drew a circle that caused goosebumps to prickle. The knife's point traced the exact bruised line where the skuller bear had left its incriminating mark.
"The beskar certainly protected you well. I've never heard of anyone surviving a skuller attack before," mused Ernesh as his eyes drifted down to watch his own taunting maneuvers, almost bored-like. "But I care not for the precious metal. While my men might be motivated by financial prospects, my enjoyments lie elsewhere." Din fought to control his irregular breathing as Ernesh slightly dug the sharp point of the knife into his left pectoral above his heart. A single bead of blood pooled at the tip. "But you see, I have a problem, Mando. I poach the more difficult creatures on this planet to make ends meet but…it doesn't satisfy like it used to," confessed Ernesh, a wave of shallow sadness flashing briefly across his face. His fingers idly twiddled the knife's handle, twirling the blade's tip to swell the drop of blood. Din winced as his chest rose upward, the sharp point of pressure digging deeper with each breath. "You see, creatures they…lack connection. Too dumb. Too simple." Ernesh slightly frowned in casual disappointment with a brief shake of his head, his eyes still trained on the knife's contact with Din's skin. "Don't get me wrong, they're a great way to learn…"
Learn…what? Din could only guess what he meant by that, and a chill ran again through his paralyzed vertebrae.
"…but eventually you want something more fulfilling. More…challenging. And what's more challenging than the race of men, eh?" shrugged Ernesh with a sudden grin directed towards Din as if to say am I right?. His eyes returned to his fiddling. "You're a hunter of men—you understand."
The tip of the knife then raised the bead of blood like a silver platter to waiting lips.
Din's insides squirmed now with nausea, the silencing bind of the drug choking out any rebuttal.
"But again, I have a problem," the hunter sighed. A calm lick of his tongue removed any trace of the Mandalorian's blood from the knife's sharp edge. His face betrayed no reaction to its taste. "A race of men? Been there done that. Quite literally…so challenges on that scale are not as exciting anymore," Ernesh admitted with a bored shrug as he flippantly waved the knife in the air once. "I guess that's the one downfall to committing genocide."
…What?
Din's eyes narrowed in confusion at the confession and accompanying complete lack of conscience—to which Ernesh just grinned wickedly in response and leaned closer. A spark of the licentious fire lit anew in his cold, dark eyes.
"But the poetic justice of it being my own race? More than worth it."
Senior Officer Ernesh Mercurius calmly waited within Grand Moff Tarkin's line of sight, a pad of orders needing the Governor's signature clutched to his chest. He had served directly under Tarkin for four years now under the Empire and had surprised even himself with how long he had managed to maintain the position. Not that he was incompetent—hardly. But Mercurius rarely liked to stay in one place for very long, let alone in a position where he had to report to someone. But the Grand Moff was one of the extreme few who had earned his respect. The man was clever enough and not as emotional as Vader. And Mercurius liked the way Tarkin's brain worked…reminded him much of himself.
Noticing a single, receptive glance from his superior, Mercurius stepped forward on the Death Star's bridge to present his pad.
"New orders to increase the invasive level of the mind probe authorized on prisoner located in Cell 2187, Detention Block AA-23, Sub Level 5."
"Ah, yes," murmured Tarkin with a slight, frustrated sigh. "I figured I would be needing to sign for this."
"Princess Organa is indeed resilient, my lord," concurred Mercurius with a small nod. The Governor's eyes shifted upward toward his intelligent second.
"That's privileged information. Who told you the identity of this prisoner?"
"No one, my lord," the Alderaanian stated with smug honesty. Tarkin merely huffed and shook his head.
"I actually believe you, Mercurius. Your ability to think several steps ahead is why I like you. I trust your shared ethnicity with her has no bearing on the matter?"
"None, my lord."
"Good. I have to ask. She is well loved by your people and vice versa…allegiances are thick with her," the Grand Moff sighed again.
"A weakness one could surely exploit, sir," nodded Mercurius, his tone tilting in agreement with his superior and keeping a casual air. "But I have full faith you'll be able to discover what you need, sir. With the Death Star at your disposal, I expect the entire galaxy to soon find itself at your feet. Whether in alliance or crushed, that will be their decision to make." Mercurius watched as his boss paused the signing of his name on the orders and stared unfocused in brief thought.
And it was in that moment that Ernesh Mercurius knew his idea had been successfully planted in his superior's mind.
"Indeed," was all Tarkin stated, the wheels of his consciousness clearly still turning. He simply handed the pad back to his inferior officer and dismissed him.
Not even 24 standard hours had passed before the brilliant light of Alderaan's destruction reflected in every view screen on the Death Star—and especially in the pleased, calculating eyes of one Ernesh Mercurius as he watched his home world burn.
"It almost felt like cheating…it had been so easy," boasted the hunter, shaking his head in shock at his own magnificence. "I left shortly after and resigned from service to the Empire before the Death Star blew. Rather lucky, eh? Reporting to someone isn't my thing, and I'd gotten what I had set out to do. Still wish I would have recorded Alderaan exploding to bits, though…would have liked to rewatch that on dull nights…"
Din had had more than enough. His body may have been immobile, but his emotions sure weren't. So many things swelled in his chest—hatred for this insane murderer, anger over the atrocities committed, unease about his current predicament, but especially the need to protect his beloved family still hidden in the hole.
However, one thought still plagued his mind…
"You're probably wondering why I did it…," smirked Ernesh, reading Din's thoughts. He then leaned down so far Din could feel his breath against his ear. "…and that answer lies with Dune," came the cold whisper lined with deep hatred that sent a shiver down Din's frozen spine.
Cara breathed heavily as she stared upward where Din had disappeared through the top of the hole. She had heard the scuffles of fighting for a bit but eventually they moved too far away for her to hear anymore. At least she hoped it was mere distance that accounted for the lack of sound.
Din Djarin, you better not be dead or I'll kill you.
A worried coo beside her pulled her attention back down. She had almost forgotten about her tiny companion. As she tiredly blinked yet another bead of perspiration from her eyes and swallowed back some dizziness, she surveyed Grogu in the dimness of the pit.
The child's big brown eyes (that eerily resembled his adopted father's) shifted from their upward gaze to now peer up at her, his long ears tilted downward in concern. The infant wasn't shy about huddling next to her—she'd been friends with Din long enough for the kid to trust her (and he was a pretty friendly whomp rat to begin with anyway). But what surprised her was that he didn't seem to be snuggling close for his own benefit but instead out of concern for her. One of his little tri-fingered paws rested gently on her swollen right leg.
"So, what's the plan, kid?" she found herself awkwardly saying out loud, her voice still holding a residual tremor from the aftermath of pain. I can't believe I'm talking out loud as if I'd receive a knowledgeable response…
A sudden mixed sensation of worry and comfort washed like a wave over her consciousness.
Cara froze.
The feelings she'd just experienced were definitely not hers. She squinted at the baby tucked against her hip. "Did…did you just…?" The infant chewed on his little lip and lowered his chin almost in a nod, his wise eyes boring into her soul. His tiny hand very gently gave a pat on her leg right before another foreign feeling warmed her all over: peace.
This is FREAKY, thought Cara as her initial reaction of discomfort melted into the peaceful suggestion Grogu had evidently given her. Even her body's muscles seemed to dispel some of the lingering tension. This was the first she and Grogu had ever interacted on such an intimate level. It unsettled her a little—particularly with Din not being nearby and her own position being so helpless. If she was honest with herself, she still was very leery of the child's powers—especially when it came to her personally. She didn't like things she didn't understand, and the fact that her first real experience with his powers resulted in nearly having her life choked from her (saved only by Din's intervention), she'd always remained a little wary. But something in Grogu's eyes captured her attention. It was almost as if she could read his thoughts reflected in his dark orbs before he blinked them away: there's more to me than you think…just try to understand me…trust my heart. As the child seemed to wait for her response, Cara's gaze strayed briefly to the faded and chipped toy soldier, and memories of her little brother Levi flickered in her mind. Her gaze travelled back to this other young one—whose heart was not all that different—nestled close to her side now.
Swallowing hard, Cara chose to trust.
"We need to get out of here and help your dad," she spoke directly to Grogu, now with a deeper level of intention and respect albeit with a small hint of trepidation. "Can you heal me enough so we can go rescue him?"
An eager, baby-like gurgle resounded from the child as he shifted his body against her to now lay both hands on her broken leg. She'd seen the child do this before with Din and Karga, so she visually knew what to expect.
But actually experiencing his mystical healing, she now learned, was something else entirely.
For one thing, she didn't realize it would HURT so badly! As bones and tendons and muscles and blood vessels fused back together, a strong, burning sensation throbbed along her entire leg. The normal healing process itself was painful…she wondered if speeding things up like this gave the reason for the more intense pain. The other thing that she now witnessed by being on the receiving end was just how exhausting the process was for both herself and the child. Though Grogu's powers were presumably directing and forcing the healing, it was still her body at work. What little energy she had after Din's medical attention was certainly now spent. It was even harder to watch Grogu work. His eyes had closed in intense concentration and his little hands and entire body shook with effort. He seemed to be struggling more than usual, his own exhaustion very evident. Thinking back to the foggy recollection of waking up just outside the burning cabin, she realized she hadn't even considered how Din had managed to get her out. Now watching Grogu labor on mending her leg, she suspected the infant had had something to do with the rescue as well. Guilt started to creep in but the memory of the plea in the child's eyes erased any trace of doubt: trust my heart.
Cara now looked upon Grogu with new eyes. The clear act of love being shown in the midst of struggle caused a wave of grateful sympathy to wash over her. She snaked her hand around the tiny body that quivered against her thigh, offering what comfort and support she could. Even as she gritted her teeth against the sharp pain, she felt her heart soften toward the selfless creature who without question was giving all he had to help her.
The whole process took several long minutes, and Grogu collapsed in exhaustion against her thigh when he was done. His eyes wavered between sleep and wakefulness, his chest heaving to try and catch his breath. Cara's body ached with such soreness, but nothing could hinder her from gathering the baby into her arms and resting back against the wall, her newly healed leg tenderly bent upward to test its mobility.
"Thank you, Grogu," whispered Cara, extreme gratitude lacing her gentle tone as she cradled the worn out infant to her chest. Eyes dipping closed in fatigue and with the faintest wheezing pattern on his lips, the baby seemed to pass out against her. Cara merely held him—perhaps not as naturally as Din might have, but her love was genuine all the same. On a sudden whim, the dropper carefully stretched to grasp the toy soldier in her fingers and securely tucked it into the folds of Grogu's robe as a 'thank you'. The child didn't even notice or stir. The pair remained still in the silence, their hearts beating against each other's chests.
A sudden sharp and metallic SNAP resounded from up above, startling both Grogu and Cara. Though it had only lasted for a second, the shock trooper recognized the sound instantly.
"Oh no…that was one of the bear traps," she breathed nervously. Did Din stumble into one? Or maybe it was the enemy? Or could there even actually be a bear up there?
A frightened coo choked out from the child, his worried gaze peering up toward where his father had last been seen. Without a word and with a sudden burst of adrenaline, Grogu leapt from Cara's arms and ricocheted up the hole and disappeared from view. Cara could only blink with a dropped jaw before coming to her senses and quickly trying to scramble to her feet with her sore leg.
I swear, if a bear eats that kid the one time Din leaves me in charge of babysitting, I quit.
Din wished Ernesh would hurry up and be done with whatever he planned to do. The more the man talked, the more Din felt sick to his stomach. His presence alone even poisoned the air around them in the still forest. The Mandalorian wasn't very knowledgeable about the Force, but he'd understood there was a light and a dark from what Grogu had told him. Light was good, dark was bad. And while Din's sense of the Force remained purely just his relationship with his son, his intuition screamed that this man embodied such a darkness that it even dampened his connection with Grogu. It was unlike anything Din had ever experienced and nothing he wanted to experience again.
"You're probably wondering what happens now?" Ernesh literally almost yawned, laying aside the hunting knife. "To be honest with you, I'm not really sure. But let's find out, shall we?"
That doesn't sound good…
Looming over him, Ernesh settled himself a little more comfortably on the ground with legs crossed next to Din and began to fish something out of what Din presumed was a pouch attached to his belt just outside of his peripheral. It was a small vial of a pale blue, viscous serum.
That doesn't look good…
The hunter next produced a rather large syringe with a needle several inches long.
That REALLY doesn't look good…
"Did you know," queried Ernesh, tone light and educational, "that the average pelt from a shimmer wolf earns you about 800 credits off world? Pretty modest. The pelt has a decent brownish color…a nice texture. But—did you know that a single pelt caught in its shimmering stage is worth well over 25,000 credits? The Core worlds can't get enough of them…all the psychedelic colors and all that." Din's lungs cautiously swelled and receded as he silently watched Ernesh expertly slide the syringe needle through the vial cap's membrane and slowly extract the thick liquid into the barrel. "The problem is that shimmering effect only occurs when the wolf is alive and triggering its nervous system to ripple those colors. In other words…nearly impossible to capture—kind of like a Mandalorian," smirked Ernesh, his eyes sliding briefly to Din before returning to the syringe to watch the liquid fill the tube. "So, I devised a method…step one: catch and tranquilize the wolf to immobilize it."
Din's heart sank in his paralyzed body, knowing full well where this was going. He forced his eyes to remain neutral as he watched Ernesh remove the full syringe from the vial and tap the barrel for air bubbles—most likely out of habit rather than out of care.
"Step two: inject the wolf with the serum—my own recipe—to incite the nervous system."
There was nothing Din could do to stop the needle from piercing his neck and it was all he could do to clamp down on his groan as he felt its long shaft drive deeper towards his spinal cord. What made matters worse was the way his enemy hovered over him, face mere inches from his own, savoring every small twitch and cringe of discomfort. As the thick liquid was plunged down the tube and injected into his body, Din fought to maintain his composure against the uncomfortable pressure. The serum created a sharp burning sensation, presumably a prelude of what was to come. He barely even felt the needle slide out of his neck as the unnatural heat slowly began to creep down his back. Tossing the used syringe aside, Ernesh gave a brief, satisfied sigh before giving Din another brief once over.
"Step three: wait for the serum to work…and then skin the wolf alive," he finished before his hand brandished the hunting knife once more.
The frayed hem of a little robe rustled along the leaves.
Buir?
…
The response of silence spurned Grogu to move faster. He could still sense his father—he was in trouble but alive—but for some reason he couldn't seem to talk back. That wasn't right at all. Though the child's body trembled with exhaustion (he was SO SLEEPY), the boy pushed himself to press on. His father was out there somewhere in need of help.
A sudden sensation drifted through the Force that made him stop short. Although it wasn't even really a sensation. More like a…a lack of one, a lack of anything.
A cold chill rippled down Grogu's back and he couldn't help but whimper. He recognized the void and he did not like it. Pushing down his own fear, the infant shuffled forward at a quicker pace.
Hold on, buir…I'm coming.
The heat was slow spreading. Din could feel it ever so gradually trickling down his spinal cord. And the pain was sharp—almost as if someone was dragging the tip of a hot fire poker down the length of his back. What was almost worse, though, was the way his body craved to shift against the horrible sensation…but couldn't.
"It takes mere minutes for the serum to take over the wolves' systems…evidently it takes longer in a human. Wonder if it will outlast the paralytic drug," commented Ernesh with mild interest as he surveyed his prey's slight grimace.
Din took his previous assessment back. What was worse was having to still listen to his captor monologue.
"No matter. I am patient," continued the Alderaanian as he idly flipped the knife in his hand. "Mind you I know you're not going to light up like the wolves do, but I know they howl so much louder when I wait for it to take the full effect. I'm curious if you'll do the same."
The Mandalorian swallowed in chained silence, his gaze fixed on the towering tree branches above as he endured the creeping pain slowly consuming him. He refused to look toward Ernesh anymore. He only wished he could fully tune him out as well.
"And if you're hoping that my stalling might give Cara Dune the chance to rescue you, I suggest you think again. After I'm through with you, she will be next," assured Ernesh, lightly patting his tranquilizer gun laying ready at his side. His eyes swept the woods, searching. "After all, she's my target. You're merely a bonus…or a rehearsal if you will," he mused, a small, smug smile passing across his face. "Imagine my surprise…here I come to randomly find her alive and healthy as ever! Somehow miraculously saved from the destruction of Alderaan—perhaps saved by the universe for a very different ending? It leaves me with such honor," Ernesh spoke almost reverently, his thumb stroking the smooth metal of the knife's blade. "Cara and I go way back, you know…same province, same educational upbringing…at least for a time. But it was…cut short." The change in the man's pitch caused Din to drift his eyes back to his captor. Ernesh's gaze went distant for a moment, and a sudden firmness set his jaw. Whatever memory he was entertaining in his mind's eye left him briefly susceptible to Din's scrutiny. The charm and calm vanished and instead a deeply rooted, seething anger set the psychopath's features as hard as stone. The instantaneous change before the Mandalorian's own eyes was so dangerously unnatural that it made his fevered skin go ice cold.
What did Cara…do?
Nearly as soon as Din finished his thought, Ernesh's black eyes solely shifted back down towards his prey, pupils never dilating. Unable to escape the dead, piercing stare, the violation sensation crawled over Din's skin again. The hunter's hollow tone mirrored the abyss created by his own soul. "Isn't it odd how life sometimes grants you closure when you least expect it…and more deliciously satisfying than at the first?" On the lilt of his question, Ernesh's composure slipped effortlessly back into cool and collected, but the charm remained gone and only a wicked intelligence remained as his eyes returned to the quiet woods. "Cara shall be what I've always intended: the apotheosis of my handiwork."
A stray ray of sunlight glimmered off the knife's blade cradled in the hunter's hands.
Two observations rose in Din's mind. One: he was now thoroughly convinced that this man was absolutely insane. But more importantly, two: he noticed how Ernesh's eyes continued to subtly scour the entire forest equally.
He doesn't know where Cara is…or that she's injured.
The consequential peace of that conclusion helped to ease his own pain a significant deal. He swallowed, content in the knowledge that even if he was about to die at the hands of this madman, at least Cara and Grogu had a fighting chance at remaining safe.
Lay low, guys…don't come after me. Stay hidden.
"But if it's any consolation to you, you would have had to go anyway, Mandalorian or not." A scowl then haunted Ernesh's face, his eyes drifting in memory again. "I won't be thwarted again."
Before Din could riddle out Mercurius's words or before anymore could be said, a sudden scuffle resounded far off to his left. It instantly drew his enemy's attention, but Din was unable to view what caused the noise.
"Well, I'll be damned…," mused Mercurius his frame relaxing and expression easing into interest. While Din's range of vision remained useless, his ears certainly weren't, and his heart sank like a rock at the all too familiar childlike huffing and puffing that hurried toward him.
No…Oh, Grogu, no…
While his side of the connection with his son remained dampened due to Ernesh's presence, he could still sense the aura of his son rushing toward him in a panic. Din's first paternal thought was that his son should know better than to run headlong into danger, but now, with their auras being closer, it was impossible to miss the fear and worry for him radiating off his son in droves. Exhaustion—to a degree Din had never sensed from him before and which now made guilt roil in his gut—also permeated the Force. The child was tired and frightened, and his only desire was clearly to be with his father. A concerned squeal now resounded closer just before the Mandalorian felt the small body of his son climb over his arm and collide straight into his bare side.
Din's heart now ached more than his body as his arm refused to cradle his son. He could just make out the tip of a green fuzzy ear within his peripheral, and he felt the boy collapse against the soft flesh of his side, breathing heavily and sagging tiredly against him. But the sensation against his skin ignited his own panic, much to even his surprise. His skin prickled, still on guard from Ernesh's earlier intrusion, and the fire licking up his back flared angrily in response to the touch. As Din's muscles tightened in defense and involuntarily shirked away, Grogu could sense the abnormal response of his father's body. A confused, scared coo whimpered from the child's lips and Din could feel his large, brown eyes swivel towards his face in question. He knew his son wasn't understanding why he wasn't being received and why he wasn't being assured through their bond. A timid whisper of loneliness tremored out from the child, most likely without his knowledge, but it couldn't have been any louder to Din's soul.
Oh, ad'ika…I'm still here…I'd hold you if I could.
But the sickly void in the Force that permeated like smoke from Ernesh choked out any hope of his son hearing his response.
"You certainly have a strange pet fetish," the man finally spoke, his cold, dark eyes soaking in the peculiar reunion. "Dressing it, carrying it around in an infant carrier. Not what I would have expected from a Mandalorian." At least he doesn't know, thought Din, glad his relationship to Grogu was not on Ernesh's radar. But it didn't make him relax any with the way the hunter's mind was clearly still spinning in thought. "You know, I've never encountered any creature like this before. I'll bet he'd go for a fortune in the inner core…or better yet, maybe I'll just keep him. Might make for an entertaining Benduday night sometime when I'm bored," contemplated Ernesh as his eyes slipped back to his knife once more before returning to the boy. The man then leaned across Din to flick Grogu's ear with a sharp snap. The child, not expecting the pain, yelped in surprise.
That does it.
Din growled low in his throat in warning, and the faintest twitch in his fingers caused them to curl for a brief moment—the best he could muster against the drug. But it caused Ernesh to retract his hand.
"Ohhh, so a very special pet, eh?" the man observed with a pleased smile, receiving the confirmation he desired. "Well, we can work with that then. He's pretty defenseless—I'm guessing that means Miss Dune isn't too far away." He paused in silence for a moment, deliberating his options, before Din saw the flame in his eyes spark again. "I've changed my mind."
Oh, hell, now what?
Din felt Grogu curl tighter against his side in fear and his claws unknowingly dig into his skin. Both father and son watched as Ernesh swiftly picked up the slender hunting knife and raised himself onto his knees. Grogu let out another cry of fear, though this one more frustrated than the first, and scooted farther up along Din's side before laying himself prostrate as much as he could over Din's heart. The child's breathing sped up even as he exhaustedly remained collapsed against his father's chest, and he raised a shaking little paw toward their enemy.
But nothing happened.
The Force remained silent, and the little hand dropped uselessly back down, all energy completely spent. Din felt remorse pulse regretfully from Grogu, and all the Mandalorian could do to console him was to let the beating of his own heart assure his son that he still loved him.
I'm so sorry, ad'ika…
But Ernesh ignored the infant and instead bent over Din. With his right hand loosely holding the knife, he utilized his first two fingers along with his left hand to carefully measure to the right of Din's navel and palpate his bruised flesh. Din couldn't stop the instinctive inhale nor his muscles sluggishly tensing. His skin burned underneath the hunter's fingertips. "Hmm, yeah it does seem like the tranquilizer is wearing off faster than the serum is spreading," murmured Ernesh almost to himself as he felt Din respond to his touch. "As strange as this may sound, it is in your best interest not to move on me. Or perhaps not…just depends on how fast you want to die."
A concerned mewl escaped from Grogu and the infant tried to shift back down closer toward Ernesh's hands to remove them, but the man just harshly shoved him away. The infant somersaulted violently backwards over Din's bicep with a short cry. Din's heart leapt in his chest, unable to see where his son tumbled or if he was all right. Through their connection he could barely sense that the infant was unharmed but did fall unconscious.
A deeper press into his abdomen suddenly stole his attention as well as his breath.
"C'mon…you're here somewhere," whispered Ernesh as his concentration remained fixed on his fingertips. He walked his fingers again slightly more to the right and down a bit before pressing deep into Din's belly once more. A strangled grunt escaped from the Mandalorian's throat as the searing heat only increased. This time, Din could feel the beat of his heart pump against the pressure. "Ah, there we go," purred Ernesh as he kept his left hand settled on his chosen spot and regripped the knife in his right, poised above. The chilling set of eyes nearly black as night flashed up toward Din's face and remained there. "Don't move."
The downward stroke of the knife beat the blink of an eye, and Din almost didn't feel its plunge.
Almost.
His body registered the pain a long moment after the knife embedded itself in his flesh. Din would have sworn a star had exploded in his belly. Gritting his teeth until they grinded, he refused to cry out and instead harshly breathed through the pain in rapid succession. He'd been stabbed many times before in his lifetime—but none had ever felt like this. The serum electrified his nerve receptors and sent the screaming message of PAINPAINPAINPAIN stampeding back to his brain in droves so that it overloaded and overwhelmed him. Vision faded in and out. Ringing reverberated in his ears. Mouth instantly went dry. Dizziness sent his perception spiraling. His body felt both lighter than air and heavier than dead weight at the same time. Din had lost all control of his senses—and the worst was the blaze set forth across his flesh from the spark that burned white hot in his abdomen, surrounding the knife still buried in him. His skin began to sweat, though it provided no relief. He finally couldn't hold back his gasp of shock at the agony, and through the wavering haze of his consciousness, he caught a glimpse of Mercurius's victorious grin.
"Now you feel it," the psychopath hissed, his eyes never leaving his suffering prey and growing only wider with pleasure. "The wolves sometimes can't even last the serum's pain before I've managed to skin them. I guess we'll see what you're made of, Mandalorian." He then rose to his feet, towering higher over Din's prone form. "But I've decided to be a gentleman," he declared, casually brushing a bit of dirt off his hands. "I'll forgo my practice run with you to allow the lady the privilege of giving you a merciful death. I've nicked your abdominal artery with that knife…" His head dipped in a nod towards the embedded weapon. "…You should be fine so long as you don't remove it and let the blood flow. But after several hours of the serum…you'll be begging her to remove it." A thoughtful, sarcastic expression ghosted over Ernesh's face as he gazed down at Din. "Or maybe you'll be the gentleman and remove it so she doesn't have to. Either way, she'll have to watch…and I'll have won."
Din fought to remain conscious as his senses chaotically flared, his eyelids dipping occasionally as his body desired to pass out. It was so hard to focus on what the man was saying, let alone remember to breathe. He felt the dark shadow cross over top of him before he heard a small ruffling of leaves just up and past the left of his head. When Ernesh returned within his field of vision but this time with a sleeping Grogu tucked in his arm, Din switched back to being on full alert.
"No…" gasped Din weakly, muscling whatever strength he could as the paralytic drug continued to wane. He struggled to pull himself up on his elbows before leaning his weight on his left side to free his right hand to reach. His body shook horribly, and he knew he was a pathetic sight. But still, his fingers stretched for his son, no matter how far the distance remained.
I'm sorry, Grogu…
A throaty chuckle escaped Ernesh as he surveyed the undeniable weakness.
"If you want your precious pet to be safe, then you'll tell Cara to come retrieve him," he instructed, the glint of sick obsession flashing through his eyes again at Cara's name. "I'm sure she won't deny a dying man's wish. She has until tomorrow morning…otherwise, I might get bored." His tone's lilt may have been lazy but the intentional shift of his eyes down towards Grogu promised dark things. "And she must come alone. Our camp is on the far side of this mountain. Do tell her I'm looking forward to her visit…it's been far too long."
And with that, the Alderaanian hunter stalked off into the woods, Grogu still unconsciousness in his arm. The man was out of Din's sight before he heard the eerie whistle echo through the trees—Ernesh's signal to his scattered men to return to him, calling off the hunt.
Din's heart sank lower than his body as he was forced to crumple back to the ground, the searing fire continuing to spread in his veins. His eyes dipped close in grief.
Grogu, I'm so sorry…
Cara groaned—half in pain and half in frustration—as she ever so slowly worked her way up the hole. She mimicked Din's earlier approach by having her back against the wall and her legs outstretched in front of her to wedge and scoot herself upward…but she had no assistance from the child and still a very sore leg to contend with.
C'mon, Dune. The boys need you.
Regathering her exhausted strength, she pushed her legs—which were beginning to shake—another two inches higher up the hole. The kid had certainly healed her leg, but it was undeniably tender. Also, she was now sure she had bled internally—something she knew Grogu wasn't able to fix at least as far as resupplying went. Due to the handful of injuries she'd witnessed Din recover from post Grogu's healing, she knew the Mandalorian usually was still ill and weak afterwards. She'd stood guard many times keeping watch over him while he would sleep for long periods of time to recover (if they could afford it). The kid's powers were helpful, but they weren't a cure-all. The telltale shiver of blood loss ran through her body, confirming her theory and making her quickly tense all muscles tighter against the pit's walls. She did NOT want to tumble and lose the progress of the eight feet that she'd mastered so far.
Not to mention break another leg…
Forcefully pushing away all thoughts of falling again, Cara huffed with determination and challenged her body to keep moving. Din and Grogu didn't need her fear right now; they needed backup. They were the only reason she was even alive right now—who knew if the tables had turned on them.
Two more inches were gained…then another two inches. Uneven clumps of dirt and rock dug into her back as she shimmied her way upward.
I'm going to need a vacation after this vacation.
The going remained slow but steady, and finally she came within a foot from the top. Relief coursed through her exhausted system, anxious for a break, when suddenly a chilling whistle floated on the air. Her body froze while all senses instantly came alive. She recognized the whistle's call from the pub and knew even before hearing the distant noise of shuffling footsteps through the leaves that Ernesh was reining in his men.
The hunt's done.
Her blood ran ice cold at the unavoidable next thought: why?
Not even bothering to wait to see if the coast was clear, Cara pushed herself the last foot of the hole and ungracefully crawled from the edge to safely crash on solid ground. She allowed herself only a few minutes to recover her strength, breaths heaving from her efforts. She utilized that time to discreetly scour the surrounding woods, the early daylight morning shedding significantly more light than when she'd first taken off into the forest. Most of the smoke had seemed to disappear as well due to a slight wind change. Thankfully, neither Ernesh nor his men were anywhere to be seen.
But neither was Din or Grogu.
Dank farrik.
Shakily, she forced herself to her feet. Her right leg protested the strain but nothing worse than if she'd exercised it heavily. However, with her first limp of a step, a wave of dizziness hit her, presumably due to lower blood pressure. She stumbled sideways before having to ease herself back to the ground and shut her eyes before she could vomit.
I'm seriously nothing short of a Malastare circus act right now…
Placing her hands outward to stabilize herself and anchor her head's perception of gravity, the fingers of her left hand landed on something hard and cold. Fisting her hand around the object, her eyes popped open in hope. Her heart leapt in gratefulness.
The redhead's rifle!
She dragged the weapon into her lap and anxiously checked the old fashioned magazine and chamber.
Dank farrik…one cartridge left.
Still, one bullet was better than no bullet and having a weapon was better than having none. She chose to see the spotchka glass as half full. Her head eventually quit spinning, and this time she attempted to stand a little slower, using the rifle to balance her. She had no clue where to begin looking, not knowing how far either of the boys had gotten to…or if they were even in the same direction.
Or alive…STOP. They're alive. You'd know it if they weren't.
Cara settled her fears again and regathered her wits. Her eyes swept across the forest, seeing no sign of life.
Walk through the facts, soldier. Assess and act.
She figured something had happened to Din. Otherwise, he would have returned to her by now. Her spine shivered again with the audible memories of the unmistakable sound of the bear trap jaws clamping closed and later Mercurius's ghostly whistle. Yeah, Din was definitely in trouble. As much as she wanted to simply call out for him, she wasn't sure exactly how far Ernesh and his gang were going…wasn't worth the risk except as a last resort. Her feet itched to get moving, but her gut told her to finish evaluating what she knew first before searching.
Grogu also would not have known Din's location. But maybe the Force could have…told him something? She didn't fully understand their bond but knew the two of them could usually communicate. Maybe Din told him through the Force where he was? Or maybe the kid could just sense him?
It was a shaky lead, but it was all she had. Trusting that Grogu was the key to finding Din, she turned her eyes downward to the forest floor for any tracks the tyke might have made. There were no footprints left behind—the child must be too light—but there was a very unmistakable little path cleared of leaves that only a tiny dragging robe would have created.
Bingo.
Anxious to get going, Cara set off as fast as her limp would allow, the rifle clasped tightly in her hands. She came across no one—even the wildlife seemed to have fled this place. Her skin prickled with a chill at the eerie stillness. Her mind wanted to excuse the reaction away as a result of the blood loss, but this chill was altogether unnatural. Very sinister. Her intuition told her it had left, but the atmosphere still lingered with the stench of evil.
It only made her heart yearn more for her boys to be safe by her side.
It felt like she had trekked for hours but knew it only had to be about twenty standard minutes. The mountain sloped a bit steeper in this section and the terrain was a little less smooth, but Grogu's trail still guided her very clearly. Cara angled her body so she could put more of her weight on her left leg, rather than her right, and carefully crested a slight incline on the mountain's side. Her vantage point allowed her a full view of the gradual downward slope before her, and her heart stopped hard in her chest.
A skuller bear trap at the base of the biggest tree in the ravine glistened and gleamed in the sunlight with fresh blood. An unrecognizable lump of torn and dismembered flesh lay at the heart of the trap.
A singular gasping, guttural breath pulsated from Cara's O-shaped lips, her shoulders caving forward at the shock. Her wide eyes remained locked on the gruesome sight, and her entire body froze in a similar vice-like grip. Only her heart made a move and that was to tear in two.
Din…Din…Din…
Cara was incapable of any thought beyond his name for an entire minute. For the second time today, she could not process what she saw. Her body trembled violently from shock and almost sent her collapsing again had it not been for the brilliant glimpse of red in the trap's jaws that suddenly caught her eye. Not blood red…but copper red.
Evidence suggesting a very different conclusion encouraged her to sweep her eyes around the surrounding area. She didn't dare hover on the edge of hope, but with the way her gaze frantically searched it was clear she wanted to. A second later, only a little further up the incline, she spied another body lying on the forest floor. One with not locks of copper red but waves of dark brown instead.
"Din!" Cara cried in a loud whisper, her tone overflowing with both joyful relief and frantic concern. As she hurried her pace to get to him, she bounced her eyes between her footing and her friend across the small valley to assess him. Din was alone, lying half bent and twisted to his left at the waist on the forest's floor with his face turned toward the ground. He didn't react to her call.
Scrambling to the bottom of the valley, she pushed her legs to climb the few feet farther up the mountain in the ravine to get to the Mandalorian.
"Din!" Cara tried again, and again received no response. Within a minute, she was at his side and dropped the rifle as she collapsed awkwardly beside him. "Din, can you hear me?" Her hands settled on his shoulders to try and push him backward onto his back when he suddenly jolted at her touch and flung his body away from her. She couldn't help her own gasp of shock and jumped in the opposite direction. Their eyes latched instantly—Cara's confused and curious while Din's were wild and tortured.
"Din? It's just me—Cara!"
"Do…not…touch…me." Din's voice came out strangled, hushed, and the most broken Cara had ever heard. A thousand questions ran through her mind as she surveyed his anguished expression and the way his left hand violently tremored out before him, warning her to keep away. Her brow creased in worried sympathy.
"Din…it's me, C-"
"I know who you are, Cara," he immediately assured her, but his tone and stance did not change.
What the…
"Are…are you okay? Are you all right?" she asked unsure, her eyes unable to look away from his frightened ones.
"He took Grogu," Din whispered before swallowing chokingly. "And there was nothing I could do about it." Cara's heart sank, knowing that was and always would be one of Din's deepest fears.
"We'll get him back, Din."
"He…he was unconscious. I don't even know if he's okay. I can't sense him. What if Ernesh has…"
"Din, Din…listen to me," interrupted Cara quickly before her friend's imagination could spiral further out of control—a rather unhinged and unusual response from him. "We'll get him back. I promise." Din's eyes pinched in guilt.
"I told him I wouldn't let Ernesh hurt him..."
"And we won't. You're a man of your word, and I keep my promises. Grogu knows that. He'll hang on for us to get him," Cara assured her friend, her tone steady. "But we can't rescue him until we figure out what's up with you. Can you help me by focusing on that first?" Thankfully, her logic broke through, settling him some. Din nodded before easing his body back down to the ground on his back.
"It's all I can do NOT to focus," he confessed, his eyes squinting nearly shut in pain.
"Can you tell me what happened?"
"Ernesh injected me first with a tranquilizer and then some kind of drug." Cara's eyes continued to watch the way Din gingerly maneuvered his body.
"Looks like the tranq is wearing off at least. What's the drug do?"
"Lights my flesh on fire. He uses it for the wolves." Cara winced.
"Sounds horribly painful."
"…It is," was all Din said, shutting his brown eyes fully and swallowing again.
"What else?"
"He stabbed me with a knife." Cara's eyes doubled and only now noticed the slender handle sticking out of his bare abdomen.
"You couldn't have led with that!?"
"Sorry."
Immediately, Cara scooted closer, inspecting the knife. "Hardly any blood loss…" She reached out to grasp the handle.
"Stop!"
Din's reflexes were slower than his cry, but he managed to clasp his hand around hers on the knife before she could remove it. However, instantly after he jerked his hand away and hissed in pain.
"What? What I'd do?" asked Cara bewildered, letting go and raising her hands away from him. It took a long, silent minute for Din to recover, his face tightly twisted. Eventually he forced himself to breathe and his eyes cracked back open to look at her. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his brow.
"Do not…r-remove the knife. Its p-placement is keeping me alive." Cara shifted her gaze back to his stomach and connected the dots.
"Kriff. He purposefully hit an artery, didn't he?" she guessed, her eyes growing larger in horror.
"Yep."
"Din, we've…um. We've got to get you help. Right now," decided Cara, a tremor sounding in her voice. She'd blame it on her own blood loss.
"There's no time," breathed Din tiredly. "The town's too far out for me to make it like this, and the smoke from the cabin wasn't blowing that direction to alert anyone to come to us. I'm afraid this is going to get worse before it gets better. Best if I took my chances in waiting out the drug and then reevaluating. Anyway, Ernesh gave the deadline of tomorrow morning for you to collect Grogu from their camp." Cara growled in exasperation.
"I don't get it…what is this guy's game? Why is he so fixated on us?" she wondered aloud in frustration. Din merely swallowed again and didn't meet her eyes.
"Some people get off on sick things. He definitely has some…questionable hobbies."
"Okay, well…first things first. We need to get out of here…some place safe where you can ride out this drug and somewhere away from the blood in the trap. Wolves will start sniffing around soon," stated the shock trooper, glancing around for good measure.
"Maybe the cabin? See if there's any portion still intact?" suggested Din but his voice was anything but hopeful. Cara winced at the mention of the cabin, but she shook her head.
"I think I've got a better idea. We used to have an old shack on the edge of the nearest lake that's nestled in the middle of these mountains. We'd use the shack to store fishing gear near our dock. It's probably still standing. And I don't think it's far."
"Works for me."
"All right then. Can you stand?"
Moving for Din was…excruciatingly slow. His muscles were still waking up and he couldn't stand to be touched, even through his loose shirt. All Cara could do was hover nearby and let him set the pace. Although, to be fair, she was glad they weren't running any races. It was proving difficult to catch her own breath as they climbed the gradual incline.
"How's your leg?" inquired Din, already out of breath after five sluggish steps. His body hunched protectively over his wound, his right hand bracing the entry point of the knife so it wouldn't slip. It was a miracle he was on his feet at all.
Seriously, how do we always seem to get ourselves into these messes?
"Sore but healed, thanks to your kid," Cara replied out loud. Her own footing stumbled a step. Despite his own injuries, the Mandalorian didn't fail to miss the slip.
"Blood loss?"
"Well, I've got to keep up with you somehow, don't I? Can't let you have all the fun," huffed the dropper, trying to tone down her own shortness of breath.
The pair trudged onward at a snail's pace with Cara leading the way. They often had to pause to give Din a minute to rest—except he looked anything but restful. He seemed torn between fidgeting—trying to find relief from his clothes, the ground, even the air from touching his skin—but also simply sagging and collapsing to the ground in exhaustion. Once he had tripped and nearly fell flat on his front. Luckily his arms stopped his fall and prevented the knife from diving deeper, but the fallout seemed to be just as painful anyway. Din had bit back a scream at the harsh assault to his nerves and merely buried his head in his arms for a few minutes to recover. Cara had hung back, taking the opportunity to catch her own breath, but she couldn't stop herself from ever so lightly resting her hand on his spine to try and reassure him he wasn't alone. His body instantly shirked away and in such a way that she wondered if there was more than just a physical component to this. When he greatly struggled to stand, Cara offered once more to assist him, but he refused and stumbled farther away from her. She tried to ask what had happened, but Din's mouth was clamped as shut as a bear trap.
Whatever Ernesh said…whatever he did…it really got to him.
She didn't try to touch him again.
They carried on for a solid hour. An unavoidable steeper ridge especially taxed both of their strength. Once they finally reached the crest in the mountain's side, they came to a halt at the flatter stretch of earth before them. While their bodies craved the break, it wasn't the reason for their stopping.
"What…what is this?" panted Cara, disgust and shock overwhelming her face as she surveyed what lied before her. Her nose wrinkled strongly at the horrific stench.
"This," replied Din grimly, a weariness in his tone, "is Ernesh's handiwork."
Scattered throughout the woods, for as far as both could see, lay a pack of shimmer wolves—each one bloody, rotting, and skinned raw with crimson eyes staring back in frozen fear and jaws hanging open in silent screams.
I wish I had a dollar for every time I shivered writing this chapter…I really hate my own villain. But I chose to write him very dark in order to really challenge both Cara, Din, and Grogu in different ways. But I promise…there will be a satisfying resolution to this story so hang in there. This was the darkest chapter.
For those of you out there who enjoy musical inspiration that goes along with stories (as I do), I'll try to be sure and include those at the bottom of the chapters from now on. The musical inspiration for this chapter…Ernesh's "theme music" really in my mind…is the song "Across Dark Waters" by Stuart Earl from the "And Then There Were None" score. Character inspiration for him comes from the youtube video entitled "Aidan Turner as Philip Lombard in Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None" by the channel called Agatha Christie (only 31 seconds long). The overall vibe Turner exudes and even his words to some extent in that particular video capture Ernesh. So if you're sort of looking for a mental picture, there ya go.
General musical inspiration for the story as a whole stems from the song "Brother" by Kodaline. There's even a youtube video called "Din Djarin & Cara Dune / Until our Paths Cross" by the channel This is The Way that captures a great snippet of the song and blends scenes from the Mandalorian with Cara and Din. That video greatly inspired the overall theme of their bond in this story, so I'd highly recommend checking that out if you're interested.
And last but not least, a huge shoutout of thanks to Mokibobolink who graciously read through the bulk of this chapter to help give pointers and insight that were of great benefit. THANK YOU (as always)!
