Blurrgs and Stew

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The sun is setting by the time we reach the stranger's house. Sweat runs down my body like a river and although you think a near death experience might make me feel alive, I'm exhausted.

The stranger users us inside a small building that must be his house. The doorway is so small that both my Master and I have to stoop to enter. We wordlessly sit down a small table.

"Many have passed through. They seek the same one as you." The stranger breaks the silence, his words lingering in the air.

"Did you help them?" My Master doesn't seem concerned with this fact but it terrifies me.

"Yes." The stranger pours three glasses full a brownish liquid. "They died."

"Well, then I don't know if I want your help." The stranger gives us both a glass.

"You do," he says simply. "I can show you to the encampment."

"What's your cut?" I can hear the suspicion in my Master's voice.

"Half."

"Half the bounty to guide? That seems steep." I know the Mandalorian won't accept those terms. The Beskar steel is too precious to him.

"No. Half of the blurrg you helped capture." He points a stubby finger out the small window to where the scaly beasts stomp around in a small pen.

"The blurrg?" The Mandalorian snorts, "you can keep them both."

"No. You will need one. To ride. The way is impossible to pass without a blurrg mount."

I take a sip of my drink. It tastes like faintly spiced water, but I'm grateful for it.

"I don't know how to ride blurrg," the Mandalorian admits.

"I have spoken." The stranger gulps down his drink. I watch him for a minute. He has a strange bald head dotted with dark age spots. I wonder how old he is.

"You will need to be well-fed and we'll-rested." He gets up and walks over to a small stove.

I glance to my Master for guidance. What are we doing here? If the past few days have taught me anything, it's that he always works alone.

"Thank you." The Mandalorian leans back into his chair and seems to be the most relaxed I've ever seen him. I follow suit.

In a few minutes we have bowls of steaming stew in front of us. My stomach growls at the delicious smell wafting through the air.

"I cannot remove my helmet in the presence of others."

"Of course. Follow me." The stranger directs my Master into a back room. I want nothing more than to dig into my dinner, but I hold myself back. Whoever this man is, he doesn't seem to know that I'm a slave, and I don't deserve a place at the table.

Few moments later the man returns. He walks over to the stove and fills himself a bowl of stew.

"Am I allowed to dine at the table?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't you?"

"I'm a slave," I say sheepishly.

"Ah. And do you have a name?"

"Aster." That's not how people normally react the that information. Then again, nothing about this whole day is normal.

"I'm Kuiil. And yes, you may eat."

I wolf down my food with an unexpected fervor. By the time my bowl is empty, my stomach is full and thirst is quenched.

"In the spare room there are blankets and bed. You may sleep there."

"Thank you." Tiredness makes my eyelids feel heavy. I walk over to the door and knock on it.

"Come in."

I slip in as quietly as possible. Dim light filters into the room from a small window, revealing an empty bowl and my Master sitting on a thin cot.

"You're not coming with me tomorrow." His tone is firm. This is his final decision.

"Please let me go with you to the encampment. Just as far as Kuill goes." I'm surprised by my own pleading tone.

"Why do you want to go? You can't even shoot a gun or defend yourself. You'd just get hurt, or worse." He tosses me a blanket.

"I have powers. There's something inside of me that's waking up or something. And besides, when you're a slave, there is no 'or worse'. Death is a release." I don't know why I'm being so defiant.

The Mandalorian lets out a small groan. "Fine."

I can't help but smile to myself as I wrap the blanket around myself and fall asleep on the hard floor.

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