Lost in the Desert

[Silver Cutlass]

It was noon on Tatooine. The twin suns were high in the sky, the desert was calm, and the wind wasn't blowing. For Tatooine, this was about as good as it could get when you lived in the desert. But if you had to work out in it, it still wasn't that pleasant.

Thankfully for Lyon, he had experienced worse. The wilderness of Mando'yaim, the cold frost of Alzoc III, and a few other planets had conditions matching or worse than those he was facing now. But at least his hardship was worth something.

He had been living in his homestead for two days now, and just yesterday, he had left to Bestine to pick up some synstone plast, to cover up the scorch marks left from the Sand People that paid the place a visit some time prior to Lyon's acquisition of the ranch.

Using a couple tools, mainly a scraper, he spread the paste-like plast onto the scorch marks, smoothing it out so it looked natural. It had been ages since Lyon had actually worked on his own, personal home, and there was something comforting about it that made him feel cozy inside.

He continued applying the paste, occasionally pausing to adjust his armor or his cloak, the brown robe and hood covering his armor and his face, keeping him from shriveling up like a plum. He was focused on his work, but as was his upbringing, he kept his senses alert, just in case.

 

[The Derp of Hooves]

This was one of her toughest training sessions yet. However, Mire understood what her father was trying to do. Surviving out in the open desert for a week was not an easy thing to do. Tuskens weren't her main issue here, in the dune sea it was the never ending sands and the heat that would get to her if she couldn't figure a way to keep the sun off. She was left with nothing but her lightsaber, a small pack containing extra clothes and enough water for only a day. She was only thankful that the wind hadn't picked up yet and started a sandstorm. She knew this could be done because she had seen her father do some amazing things that she thought was impossible, like walk through a sandstorm without getting buried in it, or another time she had seen him diffuse a volatile situation with only a look. She had been using the powers she had inherited from him, but no where near to the degree of mastery he had. She wished she could be back at the shop with her aunt learning mechanics, or with her mom learning the Echani arts but this was time for learning practical uses for the force and that was her father's area of expertise.

She had been wandering about in the desert now for how many days? Had it been two or three? She couldn't quite remember with the monotonous scenery and the intense heat, time really ceased to be an overwhelming issue for her. Other kids might wander about her reclusive tenancies or her lack of interest in things they thought were fun, they never had to go through grueling training like this. They couldn't feel the limitless expanse of the force like she could. She always felt out of place when around others her own age. Having this ability that no one else had, but having to keep it hidden because of what the Sith would do if they found her. Though they'd have to go through her father first and she doubted there were any among them that could take him on and live.

Mire had been so lost in thought that she nearly passed the homestead. At first she squinted at it and the middle aged man working on it thinking that it might be a mirage or something because she had been thinking of her own father. She walked up to the homestead completely unconcerned and rapped the edge of it with one of her knuckles just to make sure it wasn't a mirage. She looked curiously at both the home and man working on it pondering to herself if they were real and if they were friend or foe.

 

[Silver Cutlass]

Lyon was smoothing out a rough patch of the plast when he noticed something crawling closer and closer in the corner of his eye. Within his hood, he turned his head to see what it was. At first, it seemed like a humanoid-shaped silhouette, probably another hermit in the desert or a Tusken Raider lost from his people. He briefly ignored it, going back to his work, but in the case that it was a Tusken, Lyon kept his senses alert, listening, watching, and keeping on his guard.

He noticed, as time went on, the silhouette grew closer and closer, becoming larger than the speck it was at first. He threw the occasional glance the person's way, but he continued applying the plast onto the exterior of his home. And then it seemed the silhouette was right on top of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the being, a small girl, touching the edge of his home, staring at him with a confused look.

She was obviously young. She wasn't even five feet tall from the looks of her, and was very thin. Her hair was a shade of blond, and her eyes were brown. The girl couldn't have been no older than fourteen. She couldn't possibly pose any threat, could she? That was what the normal mind would think. But Lyon, a veteran Mandalorian, thought otherwise. Mandalorian children were trained from the time they could walk to be a warrior, and once they were thirteen, they were considered an adult, and could be just as deadly in some cases as an twenty-year old Mandalorian warrior.

Lyon turned his head, meeting her eyes with his own, as he rose slowly. He left the scraper in his hand, thinking that, if this girl was some sort of Marauder, or a distraction for other non-friendly party, he could possibly throw the thing, and cause a distraction of his own while he went for his own weapon. But in any case, he'd at least give the girl the benefit of a doubt.

"Can I help you? What's your name, miss?" Lyon asked, his tone neutral, his hands spread apart from each other. He kept on high alert, hoping this girl wouldn't try anything.

 

[The Derp of Hooves]

Mire eyed the man suspiciously as he spoke. She could tell from the bulk of his robe that he wore armor underneath, but he clearly was a human though from where she couldn't say. The kriffing heat was messing with her once again. She hoped this man could help her in this training. Her father had just said survive in the desert, he never said how exactly. Taking a gamble on hoping that he wouldn't kill her the instant she turned her back, she answered his questions.

"My name is Mire...." she said trailing off a bit, she never was one for many words, "Who you?" her throat was parched and voice cracked, which made it difficult for her to talk, more than usual.

 

[Silver Cutlass]

Lyon paused for a long second, staring down the girl as he thought of his next response. "Name's Lyon. What are you doin' out here, Mire?" Lyon questioned, an eyebrow raised beneath his hood. The girl's speech was rough and crackly, which distinguished to him that she was parched and possibly in a state of dehydration. These sands weren't very forgiving from what he knew, which is why he went about with his robe on, to avoid becoming crackled and aged by the twin suns bearing over head. He didn't know if the girl was friend or foe, but he wasn't going to leave a stranger out to dry, in this case literally. On his belt, he had a metal canteen clamped on, filled with iced water, a rarity on Tatooine, but something that all beings on this world were in need of. Slowly approaching the wanderer, Lyon un-clipped the container from his belt and offered it to the girl. "You sound thirsty."

 

[The Derp of Hooves]

Mire was still suspicious of Lyon as he offered a drink from his water canteen. Part of it was the fact she had come across the man in the middle of the desert, the other part was that she was in the middle of a training exercise with her father. He was notorious for adding surprises when she trained with him, especially on the survival exercises. Mire, despite being on the verge of collapsing, still attempted to use a technique she had learned from her father. A way to sense a man’s intent through the force, though with her limited knowledge and she knew some people could be trained to hide their intentions rather easily, she couldn’t sense anything overly malicious coming from Lyon.

She accepted his offer and took two long quaffs and let out a sigh of relief. Without the dry throat to distract her, she realized she had been subconsciously relying on the force to sustain her. A thought she mentally shrugged off before handing back the canteen and answering his question.

“I’m in training…” she trailed off at the end. Other than her family, she had never been comfortable around other sentient beings. It wasn’t that she disliked being around others, it was that most could never truly understand her connection with the force. She sincerely hoped that Lyon wasn’t like the rest.

 

[Silver Cutlass]

"Training, huh..." Lyon trailed off as he took back his canteen, sealed it up, and clipped it back to his belt. What kind of training might she be involved in? Mandalorian training often involved dropping off the young Ge'verde in the midst of the wilderness and instructing them to find their own way home. But if the girl was Mandalorian, wouldn't she recognize the armor beneath his cloak? Yes, she would. In fact, most people in the galaxy could identify a Mandalorian's armor. So she certainly wasn't Mando'ad.

Perhaps she was a Force-user. The Jedi, as far as Lyon knew, had their own trials and tests that their Padawans needed to pass to advance into Knighthood. The Sith had a similar right of passage. And of course, one couldn't discount the myriad of cults, brotherhoods, and groups that mirrored the two big Sword-Swingers. He didn't discount that.

But regardless of whatever she might be, she was a little girl lost in the desert who needed to get back home. "You need a lift home? My Eopie can carry us both."