PURPOSE | The Mandalorian

XXVI

He studied the singed and blood-soaked fabric of my pants. "Are you ever going to wear them again?" He asked with a soft laugh.

I shrugged with a smile. "No, probably not."

Din searched through the medpack again until he brandished a sharp pair of scissors. "I think it would be best to cut them off," He stated. "That way there's less of a chance of moving your femur out of place."

I nodded in agreement. The first time my bone moved was enough pain to almost make me black out. I certainly didn't want that to happen again. Especially in front of Din.

He made quick work of cutting through the rough fabric of my pant leg, flaying the material until he snipped right through the elastic waistband at that was slung across my hips. Then he did the same to the other side, until it was easy enough to gently pull the material out from underneath me.

When I glanced down at the wound on my leg, I grimaced. It looked way worse than I thought.

Even though Soleil had partially healed it, there was still plenty of singed flesh in the shape of a circle on my inner thigh. The skin around the wound was burned, mangled, and raw, and it was oozing a clear fluid that kept the skin from drying out. White patches of burn blisters surrounded the wound as well, making my upper leg look like crumpled paper.

A sharp inhale from Din pulled my attention away from my leg. "I'm sorry," He whispered. "I should have—"

"This wasn't your fault," I interrupted in a low voice, laying my hand on his forearm. "It was Toro's. And now he's dead."

Din lowered his head, saying, "I know. But seeing you in pain..." His shoulders slumped forward as he paused. "There was so much blood on the sand. I thought you were dead."

My heart wrenched. "Well," I whispered with a weak smile, trying to keep my voice from cracking, "I'm here now, aren't I?"

I lifted my hand up to brush the side of his helmet. Din stood completely still, staring straight at me while my fingers continued to brush over the chilled beskar.

He quietly cleared his throat. "Let's get this wrapped and get out of here," He said huskily, his tone sending a shiver up my spine.

I slowly nodded my agreement as Din reached over my uninjured leg to grab the large roll of casting wrap. Working as deftly as he could, I held in a hiss while he propped my leg up just enough to get his hands all the way around my leg. He first put on some cleansing spray, then wrapped it in a soft cloth. Then he proceeded to unroll the casting wrap, wrapping it around the cloth so it wouldn't stick directly to my leg.

His quickness surprised me, and he was finished in minutes. "There," He said, exhaling a deep, relieved breath.

I gave him an appreciative smile. "Thank you," I whispered, holding in another hiss as he set my leg back down on the bench.

He glanced back to my face, leaning in close. "Don't move," He instructed sternly, using one of his gloved hands to move a piece of my hair out of my face. "I'll be back down once we're in hyperspace."

Din quickly bent down to pick up the kid, the child letting out a few concerned cries when he spied the wrapping on my leg. He held out one of his tiny hands and I waved back with a small smile as Din carried him to his usual compartment, closing the door before unceremoniously climbing up the ladder into the cockpit.

The Crest roared to life a few moments later, hovering above the ground for a minute before taking off through the atmosphere. I heard the quiet beeping sounds of the navigational computer just before the ship lurched launched itself into hyperspace.