Star Wars - Kenobi

warm.
    Kallie vanished from her view, and another face replaced hers. It was the rider from before. His hood was removed, now. He had reddish blond hair, lighter than his beard and mustache. His blue-gray eyes looked on her with what Annileen interpreted as bemusement. “Hello, there,” he said, in an accent she couldn’t place. “You’ve taken a nasty spill.”
    “You might be on to something,” Annileen said, coughing.
    He smiled. A pleasant smile, she thought; not one of Orrin’s winning ones, to be sure. But understated, and inflected with well-meaning. As was his voice.
    “You’re in one piece,” he said. “You’ll be picking sand out of your clothes for a while, but nothing appears broken.” The man produced a canteen from the folds of his cloak. It was an old garment, she saw, its deep brown turned tawny in places from wear. Beneath, she could see he wore a blousy tan tunic. The stranger paused as he knelt close. “May I?”
    Annileen tried to nod.
    He lifted her head gently so she could take a drink. Annileen drank desperately, half realizing that seventeen years of her teachings about strangers in the desert were vanishing before her daughter’s eyes. Annileen didn’t know what to think about the newcomer, other than that he seemed to be dressed out of her seconds bin at the store.
    Annileen gasped as she finished swallowing. She nodded her thanks to the stranger and then narrowed her eyes. “Kallie?”
    The stranger stepped away, and her daughter reappeared. “Yes, Mom?”
    Annileen’s hand shot up, grabbing at the girl’s collar. “What were you doing ?”
    A guilty look crossed Kallie’s face. “Well, you had half the galaxy showing up at the Claim to get drunk—and before lunch, even. I figured if I didn’t get out and work the animals on the range, I’d be stuck in there helping.”
    “Yes—but why that animal?”
    “I—I don’t know.” Kallie shrugged. “Besides, I didn’t think you’d care. You were busy with Jabe, as always —”
    Behind the girl, the stranger fastened the lid on his canteen and chuckled. “If you were trying to get your mother’s attention, my young friend—you succeeded.” He flashed that disarming smile again.
    Kallie’s brown eyes lit up, and she beamed at him. “Oh, please—you can call me Kallie!”
    He smiled politely—and Annileen glared at her daughter. “Grounded for life, ” she said, and tried to sit up. A second later she realized the futility of the attempt and surrendered to gravity.
    The stranger was back down in a flash, catching her. His riding gloves exposed his bare fingers, and she could feel them in her hair. “Don’t do anything rash,” he said. “We just got you back to the world.”
    “Right.” With the help of the two of them, Annileen sat up.
    “I was riding home from Bestine when I saw you were having troubles,” he said. “That was some masterful riding, you catching up to your daughter. I hope I didn’t offend you by getting involved.”
    “No, no offense,” Annileen deadpanned. Turning her head, she saw what had become of Snit. The dewback drooled on the sand, his once-crazed eyes staring mindlessly at her. Looking along the animal’s length, Annileen thought his rear leg looked like a half-deflated balloon. The bones, deep inside, had shattered badly from the misstep.
    But more remarkable was where Snit was: only a couple of meters behind her. The creature had just missed her when he landed.
    “It was a lucky thing,” the man said.
    “Lucky,” Annileen said, rubbing the side of her head. There’d be a knot there, for sure. “I was afraid we’d run into a sarlacc.”
    “A healthy fear to have.”
    Annileen forced herself to stand. Once sure of her bearings, she wiped her hand on her shirt and presented it. “Annileen Calwell.”
    “Annileen.” The man seemed reluctant at first to shake her hand, but soon did so amiably. “I haven’t heard that one. Family name?”
    “Not any longer, if I have anything to say about it,” she said, smiling. “Most just call me Annie.”
    The rescuer paused, and for a moment she thought she saw his eyes fix, as if looking somewhere else. But the gentle smile quickly returned. “No, Annileen is just fine.”
    “And you’ve met the tornado,” Annileen said.
    “Kallie,” the girl repeated, going for a handshake of her own.
    The man nodded. “Ben.”
    Before Annileen could ask more, he stepped past her to examine Snit. The animal seemed