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[color=38ba5b]"I don’t understand."[/color]

A young Nautolan sat cross-legged among a group of other children, dressed in tightly wound robes. Sitting on a round stool before them all in a similar position, Jedi Master Ro Nuul lifted a hand to stroke the folds of his chin in thought. [Color=3CC0F0]"What is it you do not understand, young one."[/color]

Kaz paused, cognizant of the stares of the other aspirants. His big black eyes glanced back to the master, who simply nodded in encouragement. Kaz brought his hands together in his lap, gripping them together tightly to ground himself. [color=38ba5b]"I don’t understand how we control the Force if it’s alive."[/color]

Ro Nuul nodded thoughtfully, his obscured eyes fixed to a point on the ground in front of him. When he answered, his words dripped slowly like honey from the comb. [Color=3CC0F0]"We do not control it. We guide it."[/color] He paused, a low hum emanating from his chest as he considered his words. [Color=3CC0F0]"It is an imperfect analogy… but imagine the Force as a river. We bathe in it, drink from it, can even live in it. But it moves on its own, by its own rules."[/color] He looked up again, meeting the Nautolan’s gaze to ensure he was following. [Color=3CC0F0]"We can guide the river’s course, by building a dam or creating a new path for it to follow. But we never truly control it. It has its own will."[/color]

The young aspirants nodded and chirped their agreements, while young Kaz’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. He hesitated a moment, trying desperately to grasp a question that was lingering on the tip of his tongue. [color=38ba5b]"If… if it has its own will, then could it guide us?"[/color]

Silence hung in the room as the other aspirants seemed surprised by the question. Master Ro Nuul’s features smoothed as he smiled and nodded along, a low chuckle echoing in the hall. [Color=3CC0F0]"Oh… it most certainly does. The Force has a tendency to guide lives in the direction in which they are needed."[/color][/i][/INDENT][/INDENT][/color]
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A pained, wet cough woke Kaz from his unconscious state. Taking in a breath stung his chest, and stirred him to reach for the source of the discomfort. He found a shard of metal lodged centimeters from his vital organs, lodged closer to his shoulder than his lungs. Touching the debris sent a fresh bolt of searing pain through his system, shaking off any drowsiness he felt. He wasn’t sure how long he had been unconscious, and it took a moment for him to remember why he was bleeding out in a pilot’s seat.

When the Jedi turned his gaze to his left, he saw the bifurcated chassis of his master’s pilot droid. There was some light seeping in through the right half of the shattered viewscreen, and the tilt of gravity made it clear the ship was somewhat lopsided when it crash landed. Something tickled at the back of his throat, eliciting another bloody cough into his hand. Kaz had originally mistaken the slight haze in the air to be from unsettled dirt and dust, but the taste and burn indicated some kind of fire. He needed to get out and assess the damage. His fingers fumbled with the straps of his seatbelt, eventually prying open the buckles and latches to free himself. The fasteners bristled against the metal shard, causing another spike of pain to force out a gasp.

Within another few moments, Kaz pulled himself out of the co-pilot's seat. He looked down at the shard, grimacing at the sight of blood oozing through his white shirt. His right hand reached instinctively for his belt, opening the small medkit he kept fasted to him at all times. His fingers brushed against a metal ampule, pulling it from the pack. He tapped the end of the ampule, and a needle poked out the other end. Kaz turned his gaze to the metal shard, taking in a deep breath to focus. On its own, the small metal shard slowly pulled itself out of the Jedi. As soon as it was out, Kaz jabbed the kolto shot into his shoulder above the wound. It made quick work of clotting the wound and providing some physical relief. He dropped the ampule to the ground, hearing it roll off into the corner of the shuttle’s cockpit.

It took him a few minutes to pry metal out of the way enough for Kaz to begin crawling out the front of the cockpit. His stomach bumped and scraped along the rocky wall of the gorge, cushioned only slightly by bright green foliage that seemed to line even the most inhospitable surfaces. When he was free from the claustrophobic crawl, the Nautolan rolled down a few meters to the damp bed of the gorge's stream. The sharp slate walls had left a couple fresh scratches into his coat sleeves, but it was clear his body was at its limits.

Further downstream, the cockpit of the Z-95 snubfighter popped open with a loud hiss. A helmeted figure in a patchwork brown flightsuit rose up from its seat, disconnecting a couple tubes and hoses from its chest and helmet. It removed the helmet, revealing a mane of orange fur and a flat, wrinkled face. The Hylobon jumped down from the cockpit, stretching its arms and neck as it began to cross down the length of the stream towards the distressed Nautolan. A wicked grin colored his flat face, his gruff voice nagging with sadistic glee. [color=d6d6d6]"Well, well, well… you’ve caused quite an inconvenience, kid."[/color]

Kaz struggled to lift himself to his hands and knees, taking in a few pained breaths as his body was still recovering from the rush of chemicals and rapid healing. He took in a quick breath, and let out a soft plea. [color=38ba5b]"We were unarmed… I was just passing through. I meant no harm."[/color]

The pirate smiled a sharp, toothy grin. [color=d6d6d6]"We bloody well knew that. My boss just isn't a fan of loose ends."[/color]

[color=38ba5b]"You don't have to do this. You can just walk away."[/color]

The Hylobon scratched his chin, letting out a deep sigh as his dominant hand reached for a holstered blaster at his side. [color=d6d6d6]"Sorry, kid… but we've got a schedule to keep. It's just business."[/color]

Kaz's fingers dug into wet stones lining the brook, trying desperately to steady his breathing. Everything felt muddled, his connection to the abundance of life around him feeling distant. Through the fog, he could feel… something. It felt strong, momentous, important. Everything was connected, drawn together by invisible threads. He latched on to that feeling, trying to push through the fog. He trusted the force. He had to.

The loud whine of a blaster rang out through the air, sending a flock of orobirds into the air a click away.[/INDENT][/INDENT][/color]