Author's Notes:

This might turn into something more, we'll see. I could possibly make this a prologue and then flesh out the full story later. But that's reader and author-willing. If you guys want me to continue, let me know in the comments. I might end up expanding the story, add some more world building, backstory, ecetera anyway if I feel like it. For now, though, this will remain as a very long oneshot.

It's not my best, I'm afraid. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. :)

Flames danced in the dark, marching in mesmerizing harmony, creeping ever closer to devour them. Always, always to devour. They flickered amidst the thicket of the

woods, igniting branches as they passed. Like burning stars in the night, they were slowly dying, fading until they were nothing but ashes. And that made them

desperate.

Survival was a must, even in the mountain clefts of southern Stewjon.

So they would prey upon the weak, the helpless, and the innocent in order to keep themselves flickering just a little while longer. It was only right, afterall.

He was an abomination to them, a curse, a constant reminder of their inevitable doom.

To wipe him out would ease their pain, make them think that all was as it should be, that the plague was simply normal. It wasn't fair that they were sick and he was

healthy. It simply wasn't fair! And so they decided that the sorcerer must die. The Jedi child must perish. It was the only way. They'd tried everything else to quench the

fever and restore peace. Obliterating the child would surely appease the plague. Or so their deranged, petrified minds desperately hoped.

But she knew better.

The orange glow of the flames gleamed in her glazed eyes as she watched her sick, angry people approach, shouting their war cries and raising their flaming torches to the dark starless sky.

They didn't know what they were doing.

Her child wasn't a monster. He was merely different. He hadn't caused all this pain, all this suffering. But they were not to be convinced. Truth was a thing of mockery on this lone, desolate mountain range of Stewjon. And, though it pained her to admit it, it was time for him to be with his own people. It was too late for her and the others, but perhaps not for him.

"Mama?" her son's sweet soft voice peeped, groggy with sleep. The sound twisted her gut, tightening an invisible band around her chest. She screwed her eyes shut and

inhaled shakily. Going through with this would send daggers into her, stabbing her a million times over.

But it was better than the alternative. Even if they had escaped and reached a safe spot, he would have to witness the slow, agonizing death of each family member as they succumbed to the plague one by one. Her mind pictured him all alone, shivering in the cave as winter drew nigh.

"It's time to go," she sniffed, turning aside from the narrow window. Her son's bright blue eyes peered at her from under the worn sheet on his bed of pines, curious and questioning. She couldn't bear to look him in the eye, guilt forming a lump in her throat. So she started scrambling for supplies. Just in case the Jedi were delayed. A blanket, some food, her son's favorite straw animal, a canteen of water…. Darn, it was leaking. She sighed, shoving it into the satchel anyway. It would have to do.

"Go where?" her son asked. There was a soft pat as his dirty bare feet hit the soil floor.

"Somewhere nice and safe from the bad guys. Where no one can hurt you ever again."

She knew she might've been stretching it, just a bit. But surely anywhere was better than here.

Her son yawned loudly and stretched—she flinched at the sound, glancing anxiously behind her at the approaching madmen.

He then looked around, head swinging from side to side and frowning as he took in his surroundings.

"Mama, where's Chiyo-Ree?" he asked, mentioning his newborn brother. His brows furrowed even deeper. "And where's Papa?"

She snatched a shawl from the chest—the only thing close to value in their ownership—and began to wrap it around her son as she hustled him out the emergency back hole.

"They're waiting outside on the blurrg, now hurry it up."

The boy's eyes glistened with confusion, but he obeyed without protest. Branches slapped them in the face and scratched at their skin as they ducked under and crawled through the hole. But he didn't complain.

Straightening, the little boy smiled and waved after he spotted his father and little brother straddling the large gray blurrg. Running up to them, he bounced eagerly on his feet, petting and stroking the hard-hided creature. He always did love animals.

His father and her husband paused his work with the saddle packs, his worry-creased forehead releasing into a genuinely warm smile. Even under the hardest circumstances, she could always trust his smile to be there, supporting them.

"Ready for a ride?" he asked, patting the cramped space in front of him and Chiyo-Ree.

The boy cocked his head, an eager expression flooding his features as he looked quickly from parent to parent.

"Really?" he squeaked, shifting excitedly on his feet. She smiled sadly as she swung the satchel of supplies over her shoulder.

"Yes, son," she answered.

Confusion fluttered across the boy's expression and he hesitated. "But it's so dark outside. You and Mama always—"

"Yes, yes, I know," the boy's father chuckled. "But today's…special. So quit yapping and hop on before I set the tickle monster on you."

The boy yelped and burst into a frenzy of giggles as his mother pretended to hunch into a monster, wiggling her fingers menacingly. He struggled to mount the large tough-hided animal yet succeeded despite his small size.

The blurrg warbled impatiently and coughed at the dusty earth, shifting its feet as though picking up on the parents' masked unease. A flock of birds took off in the distance, screeching incessantly. It was followed by a slugthrower shot and cussing. They were getting closer. Any longer and they would be surrounded.

Her husband elbowed his son, gripping the reins and cradling Chiyo-Ree in the nook of his strong arm.

"Help your mother," he ordered, nodding to her.

She rolled her eyes and smiled despite herself as she settled her foot in the stirrup. She could manage just fine, but the farmer had always insisted. Always with the chivalry, that one. And she still found it quite charming. She humored her son's extended hand of help and slid behind her husband with practiced ease.

She leaned into her husband and nodded against his back, panting from the exertion, eyes sliding closed. She was getting tired more quickly as of late. There wasn't much time left for her, she knew. Not by the looks of the swollen bags under her eyes, the rashes…oh yes, she was ill. They all had the plague. It was only a matter of time…she shook her was no time for such thoughts. There was only getting the boy to safety—to the Jedi. They could help him.

She felt her husband's muscles tense as he flicked the reins and kicked at the blurrg's hindquarters, urging it into motion. Half-starved and weary, the poor creature had the will and stubbornness of a donkey. Despite this, it carried them with apparent ease, padding along the woods, through the thicket, and away from the disease-ridden hut.

Bugs buzzed all over them, dive-bombing all available skin, but the young boy was diligent on keeping them off his little brother, Chiyo-Lee's, face—a little bundle of sick flesh and bone. The infant was hardly conscious, but his older brother didn't care. He would protect his brother from all harm, great or small, but things like the plague were beyond his skillset. Mosquitoes, thankfully, were not.

Soon Chiyo-Ree's dedicated little protector would be stripped away from them.

She stifled a sob as she nuzzled against her husband's broad-shoulders. He gently rested his head against hers.

"It'll be okay. It'll be worth it, I swear, Mika," he whispered, barely legible.

His cracked and bleeding lips pressed into his wife's flaming red greasy hair, his own, lighter, blonde hair matted and coated in filth.

"Giving our son to the Jedi is the only way; he'll…be much happier that way. He won't be alone—he'll be with his real people."

Mika buried her face deeper into his sweaty body, muffling her unrestrainable sobs.

"I know," she mouthed. "I know."

But the boy was still her son and it still hurt. Words couldn't do it justice. For three beautiful years, the boy had been one of them.

She had known her son was Force-sensitive ever since that night she'd caught him nearly nose-to-nose with the wolves, reaching out as if to touch its nose. On instinct, in her foolishness, she screamed and rushed to save him.

She shuddered, unconsciously rubbing at the bite scarred on her forearm at the memory. She'd nearly died that day, but her son—oh, yes, her son was a Jedi. She was sure of it. And she had striven to keep it hidden, not wanting to give him up. Well, needless to say, that had backfired.

They rode thicker into the bush, branches whipping them as they rushed past.

SNAP, SNAP, SNAP, SNAP.

The blurrg's heavy footing was like a smoke flare, no doubt attracting all sorts of attention.

A second flock of birds took off, adding to the alert of their presence.

No matter. They only had to make it to the rendezvous where the Jedi had promised to meet. Only a little farther.

"Papa! Papa, look! It's Mei!" the boy suddenly grinned, perking up in the jostling saddle. He pointed vehemently at his old friend straight ahead. The words sent a frozen chill in Mika's blood. Her husband reigned the blurrg to a stop.

"Where, son, where?" he hissed, eyes wide and wild as he scanned the surroundings. Oblivious, the boy began to wave to a silhouette in the bushes.

A girl. Dark hair draping over, masking her face. Her clothes tattered, her skin deathly pale. She pulled aside her hair, revealing terrified green eyes. Tearing up, she lifted a shaky finger at them. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She lowered her finger and began to shake her head to hush herself. Turning away, she fled deeper into the woods.

"Wait, Mei! It's me, Obi—"

Mika reached from behind her husband and clamped her older son's mouth shut just as her husband turned the blurrg to the left and urged it into an even faster pace. They'd need to take the long way around.

But it was too late.

Dozens of arrows whirled past, planting themselves into the trees and splitting the bark with loud thunks. It was a miracle they'd missed them. That wasn't all they had, though.

An inhuman scream tore through the woods as a vibro-ax flew through the air.

Mika watched helplessly as it turned and turned, racing through the air, until it landed, firmly implanted in the blurgg's chest.

The faithful creature let out a horrible bray, swayed, groaned, and then collapsed, crushing them under its weight. Its body twitching with shocked shudders.

The human family slammed against the ground, stunned and pinned. Almost immediately, Mika was scrambling to escape, to get her legs free from the heavy blurrg.

But it was futile. She was stuck.

She flung her head toward her husband to find he was motionless, his head resting against a rock as blood pooled around his head. The metallic scent filled her flaring nostrils, her heart thumping rapidly.

Her baby, Chiyo-Ree, was crying, wailing loudly and her other son, her little toddler, looked petrified, as if the weight of the situation had finally sunken in.

"Mama! Mama, help!" he screamed. He was positioned at the front and had fallen awkwardly so that he could see what was going on on the other side.

Footsteps crunched in the underbrush, their jog slowing to a walk. She shook her head slowly.

No…no…They couldn't have him, not when they were so close.

"Well, well, well," clucked a tongue, the tone sick with amusement and malice. "What do we have here?"

"Mama! Please! …Please?"

Mika's heart squeezed at the desperation. No three-year-old should ever suffer this.

She screwed her eyes shut, trying to think. Come on, brain, anything!

But there was nothing she could do. Her legs were crushed under the blurrg, almost completely numb, and she was so, so tired. Maybe this was the end. Maybe all of it had been futile from the beginning.

Breathing heavily, she strained to reach for her son, grasping his small finger with hers, she shook it.

"Look at me," she commanded, mustering a commanding tone, just one last time. But her boy was too petrified, frozen in terror as his predator stalked toward them.

"Look at me, Obi-Wan!"

Obi-Wan reluctantly turned his head toward her. And for the first time in a while, she felt a strange kind of peace flood over her. She smiled and gently stroked the young boy's thumb with her own.

"It's gonna be okay—"

"But, Mama, the hunters—!"

"Shh, Obi-Wan, shh. I know…" she leaned her head against the cool, muddy soil, feeling as though the strength was seeping out of her. She couldn't explain it, but she felt safe, content. Perhaps she was losing her mind. Why didn't she feel concerned? Had she really accepted her fate that quickly? The billowing clouds finally released a hot, smoldering rain. It pelted her cheeks and mingled with Obi-Wan's tears.

That's when she noticed something out of place. There was an odd humming sound, vibrating the air. The rain drops hissed as they evaporated against something glowing—an odd bright blue and…green?-she could see it even over the blurrg's massive body.

Lightsabers. It had to be.

Fighting to keep her eyes open, she gasped, looking at Obi-Wan with tears of hope in her eyes.

"Y'hear that, Obi?" she croaked. Obi-Wan whimpered in response, eyes screwed shut, lips pursed, unwilling to look back at the scene.

"Those're your people. Comin' to save the day," she sighed.

Screams tore through the throats of their attackers. They tried to unite and attack the invaders, but to no avail. Several bodies littered the ferns and soil as the others took off into the bushes, hollering frightened warnings out to their approaching allies. A weak giggle bubbled from Mika's lips, racking her body with pain. She groaned, but smiled, her eyes sliding shut. They'd made it. Her little boy had made…

"Ma—? Mama!"

Her eyes snapped open but almost immediately they started to droop. Her breaths were shallow, her chest feeling constricted, and her hand had gone limp. She blinked at Obi-Wan for a moment before she realized there was a shadow looming over her. Two shadows at that. She forced her gaze upward and saw two alien beings standing before her, both donned with cream-colored robes, boots, and…she smiled again, lightsabers.

Obi-Wan was struggling uselessly against the weight of the blurrg crushing them, trying in vain to flee from the alien foreigners who'd just saved their lives.

Synchronized, they turned off their lightsabers with a mushy hiss.

The larger, taller one knelt next to Obi-Wan as the other, a smaller, squid-like creature moved closer to the blurrg, extended a hand, closed his eyes, and started to lift the heavy mount off of them.

Mika sucked in a pained gasp as pins and needles shot all along her legs and waist as the blood rushed back to her crushed bones.

"Hello there," the older Jedi grinned, resting his hands on his knees. "I'm Sem Ardel. What's your name?"

Obi-Wan hesitated, staring at the odd creature with wide, curious eyes, wariness flickering at its corners.

"O…Obi-Wan. My name's Obi-Wan."

Mika was struck with gratitude that her husband had bothered to teach their son Basic. She wasn't sure she was able to make a coherent response at the moment as she struggled to cope with the pain. But there was one last important thing that Obi-Wan forgot.

"Kenobi!" she coughed, interjecting. "Last name's…Kenobi."

Her body started going limp without her consent, blood frothing on her lips. That couldn't be good.

Obi-Wan scrambled from underneath the blurrg—the apprentice lifting it just enough for him to scurry free.

And then the Jedi apprentice noticed Mika. She tossed the blurrg aside, and immediately moved to start tending her. Only then did she see Mika's husband and Chiyo-Ree. The padawan and master exchanged worried glances before the older one, Sem Ardel, moved to check if they were alive.

Darkness started creeping into her vision, shudders running up and down her spine, a deep numbness falling upon her. She barely heard the Jedi confirm her husband and baby as dead over a sudden rushing in her ears. Or Obi-Wan wailing and kicking against the Jedi. She frowned, head lolling toward the sound of her son.

"Listen…," she swallowed thickly, her tongue abnormally large. She could hardly see him. "To the Jedi, Obi…Wan. They're…your..family know, mm-kay? Look after...'em. Even if...if...they're a pain in the arse."

She hoped she projected the words loud enough as she lapsed into a cloud of darkness.

When she dragged her eyes open again, Obi-Wan was suddenly at her side and the two Jedi were discussing something in hushed hurried tones, occasionally casting worried glances at Obi-Wan, then saddened glances at Mika. She was dying. She understood that, but how to get that across to Obi-Wan….

"Mama?" he whimpered, pleading. Mika forced a weak smile and put all her will into reaching up to stroke her boy's dirt and tear-stained cheek. Her immune, Jedi boy. Not a monster. Just…different.

Soon enough he too would be too busy to help the likes of the Stewjonians. He'd be a Jedi. Modern technology couldn't be spared to help them. Afterall, it was a terminal disease, released by the foolishness of a bio-farming experiment. It would be a waste of resources, but maybe….

Perhaps…perhaps if she gave the Jedi one of her own they'd come…they'd come and help. Her eyes flickered helplessly to the Jedi, but they showed no signs of reassurance. A deep-set cough racked her body and blood spilled over her son's worn tunic.

"Mama? Are you okay?" Obi-Wan asked, concern etching his brow. Mika sighed and nodded. "I'll be fine, Obi-Wan. Just go with the Jedi, they'll know what to do. I have a feeling you'll do great things, just…hang in there…you're…strong…bright light…keep…being bright."

"But aren't you gonna come too? Mama?" He tugged at her, but she hardly felt it.

Obi-Wan's voice was fading; she couldn't form a coherent thought long enough to speak. She was helpless as the Jedi took her boy from her, vaguely hearing his kicking and screams.

"Mama!"

It echoed through her mind as she sank deeper…and deeper…deeper….

Obi-Wan….

"Mama…."

The voice was far away now a distant flicker amidst the cackling fire enveloping her. The fire, the plague's fever, ate at her, and she was alone. But she'd done it. Her son was with the Jedi. It was okay…she could let go.

She inhaled, exhaled…then didn't breathe again.

And finally, she was at peace.