Marr

Chapter Forty-Two

Star Wars: The Old Republic

Marr

~Chapter Forty-Two~

What are allies, but enemies with common goals and much to lose...

On the cusp of waking, I became aware of the wind stealing between the cracks in the walls, the snap of a healthy fire and distant thunder. None of these things were enough to rouse me.

The stench of overcooked porridge assaulted my senses and to my surprise, my stomach responded with a hearty growl.

My awareness hovered between unformed dreams and the taunting of these mundane absolutes until a sudden and shrill siren blared around me and I was as alert as if the fire goddess herself had touched me.

Reflex provoked me to reach for my lightsaber, but I stayed my hand just as quickly. When the last vestiges of sleep cleared, it was not a siren but the mewling of a demanding infant.

"Enough!" I barked in the general direction of the tireless howling.

My focus sharpened and I spied the infant across from me, amber brown eyes wide and lower lip quivering.

"That's better."

Before I could take satisfaction in the fledgling silence, the boy took to wailing anew, this time with greater urgency and volume. I winced at the abject misery puckering the pudgy tear-stained face.

"Zho! Tend your damn youngling. Zho!" I bellowed, but only the echo of my voice answered.

The cries grew louder and more persistent.

"I don't think the Core worlds can hear you...yet."

If I didn't know better, I would have sworn the boy took my words as a challenge. The combination of numbness and pins and needles suggested I'd slept in the same position for too long. My body quaked as I pushed myself to stand on unsteady feet. The fever clung to me still and every platelet in my bloodstream urged me to leave, but I knew it would be folly to do so.

"Blasted Jedi." Bracing myself against the wall, I crossed the chamber, pausing only long enough to stir the thick paste bubbling in the pot. A crusty skin of burned porridge coated the bottom of the pot and I lifted it away from the tripod suspending it.

Steam puffed out of the blackened cauldron and the infant reached for me. His chest rose and fell in speedy bursts and I hoped he'd tired himself out.

I eased myself down to sit next to the child. "Perhaps if you'd been quieter your mother wouldn't have left you—and now you've driven the Jedi away too. What would you do, if I left as well?"

His expression suggested he understood me, but I knew that was impossible. Despite my harsh words, the boy calmed when I spoke. Perhaps the Jedi spoke to him to ward off the insanity that comes from being alone for too long.

He crawled closer and scampered onto my lap. His fat short fingers prowled over my armor and when his explorations bored him, he sank against me, a wriggling weight against my chest.

Gurgling sounds in his belly told me, he too hungered for the meager concoction Zho had left behind.

"Hungry, are you? So am I—but it's too hot to eat." I summoned the pot and the earthenware bowl and utensils to my side.

The boy watched the levitating items and waved his arms. "Entertaining is it? Hmph." I smirked under my mask and spooned out a mound of porridge into a dish and set it aside.