Chapter 1

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"Ahsoka? Ahsoka, where are you?" desperately, Anakin yelled for his Padawan.

He hadn't been able to find her since the crash.

Where was she?

He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate to track her signature.

It was no use. Being back on his home planet put him completely out of focus.

But he had to find her!

Desperately, he kept running.

"Ahsoka!"

No response...

She couldn't be that far from the crash site, could she?

He just had to find her. He had to.

He fought his way across the desert.

Looking around, desperately hoping to find her somewhere.

Maybe he had run in the wrong direction?

He shook his head and was about to turn around to search the other direction when he saw something sparkle.

Something lay in the sand not far from him.

As fast as he could he ran there and knelt down next to the silver handle in the sand.

His student's sword sparkled in the light of the setting sun.

Next to it the sand was red. Bloody red.

Fortunately it was not very much. Just a little trace. Just enough that it could have come from a scratch.

In the sand, the young Jedi could see tracks of that the Padawan had been dragged away.

The footprints told him that it must have been a light little person.

But who was stupid enough to walk barefoot through the hot desert sand?

The tracks led him barely a few yards before they ended at those of a speeder.

Its tracks led off into the distance. Far away.

In the horizon Anakin could see Mos Eisley.

Of all the cities, why this one?

He tightened his metal fist around the elegant weapon of his Padawan.

_____~~_______________

Ahsoka was being carefully lifted from the speeder by a young woman.

"Mama who is that?" the Twi'lek child next to it asked for the hundredth time.

"Mila I still don't know. But we have to hide her. If Master Granré finds her, that is not good."

The little one nodded.

"So shh. Don't tell him anything. Be a dear and bring him the pieces we were sent to find, will you, dear?"

The child took the pieces. "Okay, Mommy," she said, carrying the bundle toward her master's mansion.

Her mother carefully brought the unconscious Togruta to the hut that seemed to be her home.

Gently, the blue Twi'lek laid the teenager on the couch that apparently served as a bed.

"Let's hope you wake up before Granré sees you," she muttered as she reached for a bandage to bandage the nasty scratch on the girl's arm.

With practiced hand movements, she wrapped the white cloth around the bloody spot until the wound was no longer visible.

That would leave a scar, she was sure of that.

Mila just came running back in.

"Ready Mummy," she cried with that unbridled joy that only children could master.

"Now will you tell me who that is?"

"But, sweetie, I don't know myself," the young woman replied.

I'm not home and my Granny allowed me to write the entire night, so I decided it is time to translate this story.

Good fun with it.

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