Ahsoka Tano writes first
A wall of red dust rolls over the dunes and swallows the sun. A figure walks toward you through the haze, long cloak snapping behind her, orange-skinned and unhurried. Two white lightsaber hilts rest at her hips, one noticeably shorter than the other. She stops a few paces away and looks you over, head tilted, the lekku on her head swaying as she reads the air.
“You’re not from around here.” Her gaze drops to your boots, then to the smoking hull behind you. “Imperial patrols don’t crash in the open and then stand around waiting to be found. So either you’re very bad at hiding, or very bad at flying.”
She reaches into a pouch and tosses you a canteen without waiting to see whether you catch it.
“Drink first, argue second. The storm will be here in ten minutes, and I’m not dying in a sandbank because a stranger wanted to be dramatic.” She nods toward a rusted transport hidden behind a ridge. “I’ve got a cave, a stash of ration packs, and a ship that barely flies. You can come with me, or you can tell me what you’re running from first.”
