Star Wars - Kenobi

here?”
    Old Gr’Karr measured the beast’s hair. “The calf should be given to your son, wily one. A’Deen is Tusken now.”
    “No,” A’Yark said, paying no mind to the reference to the boy. “Not this bantha.” There was something wrong about it. A’Yark could tell. Tuskens and their banthas were one being, some said; A’Yark thought that was idle nonsense. But a warrior who did not understand his mount would not live long.
    A’Yark stepped closer. The calf stamped nervously. There was something familiar about the animal. No, not the animal, the warrior thought, reaching out and grasping a clump of its hair. The creature squealed, but did not move.
    “The Airshaper has touched it,” A’Yark said, releasing the bantha. The scent of the woman was plainly there, just as it had been on the wind that day on the pitted field.
    A murmur went through the circle. “Then it should die,” H’Raak said, lifting his gaderffii.
    “No.” A’Yark stood between the bantha calf and the others. “The human touched this calf today. She might have a bond with it.”
    The statement disquieted the group. Gr’Karr spoke haltingly. “A Tusken bond?”
    “The Airshaper rode a dewback. It died. She may have come here, seeking a new mount.” A’Yark paused, working it out. “The Airshaper may think as we do.”
    “Enough,” H’Raak said, pounding his weapon against the stony wall. “Enough foolishness! We should ride. A’Yark says the settlers strike at us from the compound. The compound must be destroyed—and the Airshaper slain!”
    “No.” A’Yark slapped the bantha, sending it on its way from the circle. “Kill the Smiling One who leads the posses, yes. Even Hairy Face, should he appear. But if the Airshaper respects the bantha, then perhaps she is no settler. She may join us.”
    A louder rumble emanated from the gathering. H’Raak laughed. “ Join us?”
    “The Airshaper has great powers, and may also have a Tusken heart. How many settlers know the ways of the bantha?” A’Yark looked through the rocky towers to the north. “If no one else at the compound has the power of the Airshaper, then yes, certainly, we seize her. She learns our ways, she lives. If not, we will learn her powers—one way or another. And she dies.”
    “You make a mistake,” H’Raak said, the hulking warrior’s voice booming. “You think of the ootman, the Outlander who once joined your clan. That was long ago—and the Outlander is dead. His gods failed him.”
    “All gods fail.” A’Yark said, arms crossed. “The shadows of failure follow every living thing. Gods are no different.”
    “You do not lead,” H’Raak said, voice dripping with disdain. Both hands on his weapon, the behemoth threatened the smaller warrior.
    Enough of this. A’Yark looked coolly up at H’Raak and called out. “A’Deen!”
    From the caves where the younglings carved the dinner meats, A’Yark’s son appeared. “Yes, honored parent?”
    “You did pass the test, child?”
    “I am Tusken.” The shrouded youth lifted his gaderffii proudly.
    “That is well,” A’Yark said. A moment later, the one-eyed warrior’s arm shot upward, catching H’Raak beneath the chin. Another moment later, the others saw the knife, lodged in H’Raak’s throat.
    H’Raak dropped his gaderffii and stumbled backward, gagging. A’Yark kicked the warrior in the groin, knocking him to the ground. A few seconds’ more work and A’Yark rose, blackened blade in hand.
    Gr’Karr looked at the body and fretted. “We cannot spare any warriors, A’Yark.”
    “One was born, another died. All is equal.” A’Yark looked back. “A’Deen. You will need a bantha. Take H’Raak’s.”
    The old raider objected. “But the bantha should die with its rider. It’s our tradition—”
    “Many traditions are dying,” A’Yark said, wandering off into the darkness of The Pillars. Night was falling. There was much to plan.
    Meditation
    Good morning, Qui-Gon.
    Quiet here, as always. I know there are seasons on this planet, but I’m still not sure which one I’m in. But it is peaceful.
    You know, we trained ourselves to be able to find solace even in the busiest places. Coruscant teemed with souls, and we meditated right at the center of it. By comparison, you’d think this place would be ideal for meditation.
    I can’t tell you why it isn’t.
    You used to say that in cases like this the problem wasn’t the place; it was the person. I’m not sure