High Heavens (Star Wars - Luke Skywalker)

XXXII - Visions

"I can't believe I missed that," Strata said as she finished wrapping the last strip of bandage around Mara's bicep. The second Mara had returned from the trench, in tow with Dusty, Delta, and the others, Strata had pulled her over plopped her down on the nearest log. She insisted on patching up the shoulder that Mara had caught a blaster bolt with.

Mara gave a dry chuckle. "I can't believe it worked," she said.

Strata paused, looking up at her. "You mean you weren't sure?"

"Well, considering I'd never done that before - no."

"How'd you even know to try it?"

"I don't know." Mara shook her head, a smile of distant elation stretching across her face. "It was just a... feeling. I must have seen my father do it, when I was young, but in that moment - everything came rushing back to me. Like I knew what to do before I even did it."

She shook her head once more, then turned back to Strata. Strata met her with a baffled expression, one eyebrow raised.

"Does that make sense?" Mara asked.

Strata just laughed, tying off the bandage. "No. But sure. An instinct. I still wish I could've seen you throw a detonator at a bunch of Imps with your mind-"

Mara hissed for Strata to keep her voice down, eyeing a group of villages walking past. They weren't exactly in private, and Mara couldn't say she was eager to start rumors about herself. The last thing she needed was people talking.

During her early days in the Rebellion, Mara hadn't trusted many people. The new world she had found herself in awed her, yes, but she kept the list of people allowed close to her short. It felt safest that way. Now, in a new place with unfamiliar people, she was falling back on old habits. Calla's death, along with everything else that had happened in the last few days, had reignited her skepticism in people.

"Sorry," Strata muttered. She sat back, inspecting her work with the bacta bandage, then nodded. "Alright, that should do ya."

Mara rolled her shoulder, testing how the bandage fit. "Thanks, Strata."

"Sure. You just be glad I brought that - it's no bacta tank, but it'll do the job. It's a good thing you didn't take a hit to the head. I couldn't fix that."

Mara's lips quirked up in a smile. Look at her, getting chastised by a girl four years her junior. "Where'd you get so good at that, anyways?"

Part of their training as starfighter pilots was basic field medicine. Strata, however, had proven to know more than Mara ever had. She should know - she had trained Strata, herself.

Strata turned away from her, shoving the med kit back into her burlap sack. "Kiiara," she said tightly. "She's pretty good at all that med stuff."

Mara squinted. She recognized Strata's tone as too dismissive to be genuine. Something had happened to Strata, between the Battle of Scarif and Mara's return to Yavin IV with Luke and Han. She couldn't begin to fathom what, but it was something that Strata had been carrying with her since they left.

She knew she wouldn't get anywhere with it, today. Standing, Mara beckoned for Strata to follow her over to one of the dome-shaped huts. Delta, Lorelei, and Tiernan gathered in front of their shared house, talking.

Lorelei noticed them first as they approached. Mara hadn't had a chance to talk to her after arriving from their skirmish with the Imperials.

Within seconds, she had gathered Mara in a tight hug. "You're alright, thank the stars," she exhaled. "Dusty and Delta told me everything." She pulled back, giving Mara a stern look. "That was reckless, Mara."