Chapter Text
The apartment was eerily quiet, with the only sounds being the soft hum of the AC and the low buzz of electricity. The smell of breakfast, spina omelets, lingered in the still air, a fading reminder of the delicious meal earlier. The digital green number on the chrono flashed as it ticked forward, each minute stretching out in a slow, agonizing crawl.
This was Obi-Wan’s second day confined to Jango’s apartment, and the novelty of his newfound safety was beginning to wear thin. Yesterday, he had been too exhausted to do anything more than sleep, finally catching up on the rest he had desperately needed. It had almost felt like a vacation—good food, uninterrupted sleep, a rare moment of peace. But today, with the hours stretching endlessly before him, a restless itch settled under his skin.
A brief flicker of green at the edge of Obi-Wan’s vision caught his eye and he snapped his head towards it, only to realize that it was the chrono once again. He let out a long sigh of disappointment and laid his head back on the pillow. Those green numbers seemed to mock him, each flash a reminder of how slowly time was passing.
A sudden, sharp clang pierced the dead air, echoing faintly from somewhere down the hall. Obi-Wan’s ears perked up, curiosity flaring for a brief moment. The sound lingered for a few seconds before fading into the background. The silence settled back in, heavier than before, pressing down on him as he sank deeper into his boredom.
At least in the Wastes, he had something to focus on. The harsh environment had forced him to stay sharp, every step driven by a single purpose: Find Satine. Out there, boredom was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
But now… now, he had nothing. The quiet of the apartment felt more suffocating than the emptiness of the Wastes. Confined within these walls, there was nothing to distract him from the slow passage of time. He needed something to do—anything—to break the monotony.
Obi-Wan got up and stretched, arching his back before dipping low to alleviate the stiffness in his muscles. He wandered through the apartment where each room resonated with the weight of his growing despair, the walls seeming to close in around him. The oppressive stillness hung heavy in the air, making the space feel more like a prison with every passing moment.
In the distance, the lift dinged. Obi-Wan’s heart quickened, hope flaring inside him. He perked up, wondering if it could be Jango returning to the apartment. He darted towards the door, tail wagging furiously. Sitting before the door, his eyes fixed on the red light of the door pad, waiting for it to turn green. Every second passed like an eternity, the anticipation almost unbearable.
But the minutes dragged on, each one longer and more torturous than the last. The thrill of excitement gradually gave way to a sinking disappointment as it became clear that Jango wasn’t coming. Eventually, all that remained was a hollow emptiness.
A soft, mournful whine escaped him. He turned away from the door, his tail drooping limply behind him. The silence seemed to close in, pressing down from all sides, a crushing reminder of how isolated he had become.
Obi-Wan sat back on his haunches and swept his gaze over the apartment, searching for something— anything— to occupy his restless mind. His eyes landed on an unassuming blue bag on the kitchen counter. The bag was filled with strill toys that Jango had bought him— the same toys that Obi-Wan had rejected.
The sight of the bag sent a cold wave of dread washing over Obi-Wan, making him shiver. There was no way he would stoop to playing with strill toys. He wasn’t a strill. He was human.
But the truth gnawed at him, an uncomfortable reality that pressed against the edges of his denial. He wasn’t human anymore, was he? He was a strill now, no matter how much he despised the thought, trapped in a body driven by instincts he barely recognized. It was a cruel twist of fate, one that he couldn’t rationalize or undo.
How had this happened? He had no idea; one day, with no warning and no explanation, he simply woke up like this. And the worst part—the most terrifying part—was that he had no clue how to reverse it. What if this was permanent? What if he was stuck like this forever?
His gaze fell back on the bag, and a bitter taste filled his mouth. Playing with strill toys felt like a betrayal of everything he used to be, a surrender to this new, unwanted identity. But there was nothing else for him to do. He was trapped in this new form with no knowledge of how to escape.
Adding to his anguish was the isolation—the crushing reality that he couldn’t communicate with those around him. This barrier intensified his sense of loneliness. The quiet wasn’t just the absence of noise; it was a constant reminder of the severe limitations on his ability to convey his thoughts and emotions, effectively locking them away.
His mind drifted to his friends at the Temple, recalling the laughter they shared over meals, the hushed conversations in the gardens, and the teasing remarks. The memories brought a sharp pang to his chest. They all felt so distant now, as if they belonged to another life entirely.
The thought of embracing this new reality filled him with a sense of defeat. But then again, what harm could it do? The toys wouldn’t change who he was—nothing could. But maybe, they could offer a distraction from the despair that threatened to consume him. The idea was absurd, laughable even, but it was better than staring at the walls, waiting for the time to pass.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, he stood on his paws and grabbed the bag in his mouth. He dragged the bag off the counter and dropped it on the floor. The bag opened, revealing a small collection of toys: a stuffed mythosaur, a green plastic bone, and a thick braided rope with a knot on each end.
A mix of discomfort and resignation settled in his chest as he looked at the toys. He let out a shaky breath before he gingerly picked up the stuffed mythosaur. The fuzzy fur tickled the inside of his mouth. As his teeth sank into the soft fabric, a tiny, high-pitched squeak erupted from the toy. Obi-Wan froze, startled by the noise.
The small sound cut through the silence, and to his surprise, it brought a faint sense of warmth, a feeling he hadn’t expected. Encouraged by the unexpected relief, Obi-Wan nipped at the toy again. Another squeak split the air, just as sharp and as gratifying as the first. A wave of giddiness, so foreign at this moment, washed over him.
Clutching the stuffed mythosaur in his jaws like a prized possession, Obi-Wan wandered around the apartment, biting into the toy repeatedly, relishing each shrill utterance. The toy’s squeaks filled the quiet space with sporadic bursts of noise, breaking the monotony and providing a welcome distraction. For the first time in what felt like hours, Obi-Wan felt a genuine spark of enjoyment, his boredom and frustration momentarily forgotten.
“Enjoying yourself?” Jango asked, voice breaking through the Obi-Wan’s reverie.
Obi-Wan paused mid-motion, ears flattening against his head. He turned slowly to see Jango leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. Embarrassment flooded Obi-Wan as he realized how absorbed he’d been, parading around the apartment with the toy clutched in his jaws, oblivious to everything else.
He reflexively bit down on the toy, and the mythosaur let out a sharp squeak, the sound cutting through the stillness. Obi-Wan cringed inwardly, his discomfort deepening as he recognized how easily he’d slipped into behavior that felt so... beneath him. The realization that he’d been acting like a common pet left him with a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Jango’s gaze remained on him, unreadable, and Obi-Wan couldn’t decide whether the look in his eyes was amusement or something else entirely. Either way, it didn’t make him feel any better about the situation.
Obi-Wan ducked his head, shame and self-consciousness prickling inside him.
A creaking noise signaled Jango’s approach. He crouched down and scratched behind Obi-Wan’s ears. The simple gesture managed to unravel the tight coil of pressure lodged in Obi-Wan’s chest. The tension in his muscles loosened and he allowed himself to lean into the touch.
“Come on,” Jango murmured, his voice a warm blend of authority and reassurance. “I need to take you outside. I’ve got a meeting in fifteen minutes.”
The words tugged Obi-Wan back to reality. He hesitated for a moment, then bent down to pick up the toy with his mouth, as if seeking one last bit of comfort from it. With the mythosaur held gently between his teeth, he followed Jango to the door. He sat on his haunches and looked up at Jango with a mix of expectation and uncertainty.
Jango wagged his finger and gave Obi-Wan a sharp look. “No, the mythosaur toy is staying here. I’m not going to be responsible for it while we're outside,” he said, tone firm but tinged with a hint of amusement.
Obi-Wan’s tail flicked in understanding.
The rule made sense. It was similar to how the younglings in the Temple weren’t allowed to carry toys out of the creche. The thought brought a distant, bittersweet memory to the forefront of his mind, a time when life had been simpler, structured, and predictable. The rules had been a comfort then, a way to feel secure in a world full of uncertainty. Now, they seemed to echo through his new life, offering a strange but familiar sense of order.
Obi-Wan carefully placed the toy inside the bag, treating the toy with the same reverence he once treated the precious objects of his past.
“Good boy,” Jango said, a grin spreading across his face as he scratched underneath Obi-Wan’s chin.
Obi-Wan’s heart fluttered at the praise. He beamed up at Jango, tail swaying behind him in a slow, contented wag. A low rumble of pleasure bubbled up from deep within his chest.
Jango’s hands were quick as he slipped the harness on Obi-Wan and secured the leash to it, leading him out of the apartment.
As soon as they stepped outside, the scent of other strills hit him with full force—stronger, sharper, more distinct than before. The air was thick with their presence. Obi-Wan’s body went rigid, his instincts flaring up. He found himself pressing closer to Jango.
“Come on, Tracy’ika. I don’t have long,” Jango said, his voice steady as he gave a gentle tug on the leash, urging Obi-Wan forward.
As they walked the familiar path, Obi-Wan’s senses were on high alert, every sound and scent magnified. The sound of footsteps behind them caught his attention, each step growing louder, drawing nearer. He turned, ears pricking up, to see Myles heading their way.
An odd mix of scents clung to Myles, some familiar and some not. But one stood out, sharp and unmistakable, almost overpowering everything else: the distinct scent of the alpha strill.
Instinctively, Obi-Wan’s body stiffened. His ears flattened against his head and his tail curled underneath him. His breathing quickened and he took a cautious step closer to Jango.
He had no idea how he had missed the scent before.
“Hey, Helka is looking for you,” Myles said as he drew near. His tone was casual but tinged with urgency.
“I’ll be there soon, I’m taking care of Tracy’ika right now,” Jango said, a touch exasperated. Obi-Wan couldn’t quite tell if Jango was annoyed with him or this Helka person.
“How is Tracy’ika doing?” Myles asked, gaze shifting to Obi-Wan.
“I found him playing with the mythosaur toy,” Jango said as if proud.
Obi-Wan glared up at him. Not that him playing with a strill toy was a secret, but if he ever returned to human form, he’d rather not everyone know what he did while he was a strill. The thought of it becoming common knowledge made his stomach twist.
“I told you he’d love it. Beviin is obsessed with his,” Myles said, grinning. He tucked his hands into his pockets and fell into step with them.
“You should’ve seen Tracy’ika with it, holding it up and squeaking it,” Jango replied, eyes gleaming as he related the story to Myles.
Obi-Wan glanced up at Jango, catching the wide smile that lit up his face. Seeing Jango this happy and hearing him speak with such pride sparked warmth in Obi-Wan’s heart. A small satisfaction stirred inside him.
As they continued walking, Jango shared other little anecdotes about Obi-Wan. It was like everything Obi-Wan did, no matter how insignificant, was worthy of a story. Obi-Wan had never heard someone speak of him with such pride. If something as simple as playing with a toy could make Jango this pleased, Obi-Wan considered he might just keep doing it.
They returned to the secluded spot in the back and Obi-Wan did his business. Thankfully, Jango and Myles were occupied, laughing and sharing stories. Once Obi-Wan was finished, he bounded back to them, tongue lolling out of his mouth.
“How is Sarimah doing?” Jango asked as they began to walk back to the apartment.
“She’s doing good. Beviin still hasn’t left her side,” Myles said with a conspiratorial wink.
“Do you think that means she’s…?” Jango asked, brow raised, lips curled up at the corners.
“We’re hoping it does,” Myles said, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
The conversation remained lighthearted all the way up the lift. However, when Myles’ comm chirped, his expression darkened. He huffed and shook his head.
“What is it?” Jango asked, opening the door to the apartment.
“Helka,” Myles said, rolling his eyes, “She’s eager to get started.”
Jango’s face tightened and he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I’m starting to regret promoting her,” he said, voice edged with annoyance, “She promised she would be patient.”
The three stepped inside the apartment, the atmosphere tense as the outside world stepped in. Obi-Wan sat still, waiting for Jango to remove the harness and leash. Myles was tapping out a quick response on his comm.
Once freed, Obi-Wan immediately grabbed his mythosaur again and held it up in front of Jango. Jango’s lips curled into an amused smile. He crouched down and scratched behind Obi-Wan’s ears.
“I’ll be back in a few hours, Tracy’ika,” Jango said softly, giving him a fond smile.
“Come on,” Myles said, patting Jango’s shoulder, expression serious.
Jango sighed, the sound heavy with irritation. It was a sigh Obi-Wan had heard before, from Master Windu after Master Jinn explained yet another unconventional decision made in the heat of a mission. The same weariness pulled at Jango’s lips, pressing them into a thin, grim line. His shoulders bunched with tension.
The door slid shut behind them, locking Obi-Wan inside. Obi-Wan's ears drooped, and he gave a low, mournful whine, the sound lingering in the empty space. Dejected, he shuffled away from the door.
Alone once more, Obi-Wan curled up on his pillow. He gnawed absentmindedly at the mythosaur’s soft fur, but the action felt hollow, more mechanical than anything else. Even the squeaking noises, once a source of brief amusement, now stirred nothing within him. There was nothing else to occupy his mind, no task to complete, no purpose to fulfill.
Eventually the monotony grew unbearable. The sense of uselessness got to him, forcing him to his feet. Determined to do something— anything, he grabbed the mythosaur in his mouth and began to wander aimlessly around the apartment, the silence pressing in on him from all sides.
His paws carried him to the storage room door, where he paused, hesitating for a moment before nudging it open and slipping inside. He leapt onto his perch and stared out the window at the training grounds below. A deep, aching longing settled in his chest, made sharper by the quiet emptiness that surrounded him.
Below, Mando’ade were practicing their sparring. Strills were off to the side, some laying down and others sitting, all watching the proceedings with keen interest.
A mountain of a man in dark green armor caught Obi-Wan’s gaze. The man threw his opponent to the ground and pinned him. There was a brief pause before the bigger man extended his hand and helped his partner to his feet. The two exchanged nods and repeated the maneuver, practicing it several times.
Obi-Wan's tail flicked behind him. He wished he could be down there, feeling the sense of camaraderie that came from training and working alongside others. Instead, he was trapped in this apartment. The space seemed to be shrinking with each passing moment.
A nagging restlessness tugged at him, like he should be doing something more. What it was, he didn’t know. There was nothing he could do. The thought of enduring this day after day, with nothing to break the monotony, filled him with a creeping dread. If things continued like this, he feared he might lose his mind.
Hours later, the apartment door finally opened. Obi-Wan’s heart leapt into his throat. He jumped off his perch, raced to the living room, and skidded to a stop in front of Jango. Relief swept through him.
“And what have you been up to?” Jango asked, one brow arching as his lips curled into a teasing smirk.
The casualness of Jango’s tone only sharpened the edges of Obi-Wan’s frustration. He huffed in response, the sound escaping with more force than he intended—a raw, involuntary outburst of emotions he couldn’t put into words.
Jango reached down and ruffled the fur on top of Obi-Wan’s head. “Did you have a fun time?” he asked, his tone gentle.
There was so much Obi-Wan wanted to say—so many thoughts and feelings he longed to express—but all he could manage was a bark, a poor substitute for the words locked inside him.
He had been stuck inside all day, a human mind confined to a strill’s body, trapped within an increasingly stifling apartment. No, he wasn’t having fun. Not even close.
Finally, they went outside. Obi-Wan tugged at his leash, driven by a desperate need to escape the suffocating confines of the apartment. He paused frequently to smell everything, drinking in the flood of scents with an intensity that bordered on frantic. They walked the perimeter of the compound twice, and Obi-Wan dragged it out as long as possible, savoring every second of reprieve— a brief, fleeting taste of freedom before the walls closed in on him again.
After the walk, the apartment felt smaller than ever. It had seemed huge when he first arrived but with the isolation, the walls felt like they were closing in on him. He had such limited space to move, to breathe, to do anything.
While Jango cooked dinner, Obi-Wan stayed by his side, not out of choice but necessity. He craved companionship. But the silence between them only heightened his frustration, fraying his already ragged nerves. Every so often, Jango would reach down to pet him, offering a few gentle words as if that could ease the tension. It didn’t. It was a poor substitute for all the things Obi-Wan longed to express but couldn’t.
After dinner, Jango cleaned and put away the leftovers. He grabbed a datapad and headed into the office. Obi-Wan trailed behind him, eager to explore the space he had only glimpsed through the slim floor-length windows flanking the door.
The office was small and tidy. A neatly organized desk with a high-backed chair sat at its center. Rows of shelves lined the wall behind the desk, filled with holonovels and tactical manuals. A display case housed an older model blaster and assorted trinkets. Several holo-images on the walls featured Jango with people Obi-Wan didn’t recognize. A tall man with dark hair and angular features appeared in the few holos that showed a young Jango. A workbench occupied half of the wall opposite the door, with a pegboard above it holding neatly arranged tools.
After inspecting the space, Obi-Wan sat next to Jango. A resigned sigh escaped him and he laid down. He really had nothing to do. It was maddening.
The next morning, after a hearty breakfast that did little to lift his spirits, Obi-Wan grabbed the leash from the box and sat in front of the door. He wagged his tail, his eyes wide and imploring as he looked up at Jango, silently begging to be let out. He couldn’t handle staying cooped up in the apartment.
Jango’s expression fell, a shadow crossed over his face.
Obi-Wan’s heart sank at the sight and his hopes dashed before he even heard the words.
Jango shook his head and crouched down beside him, his hand reaching out to scratch behind Obi-Wan’s ears with gentle affection.
“I’m sorry, Tracy’ika,” Jango said softly, his tone full of understanding.
Obi-Wan’s shoulders dropped and he looked at the floor. He longed for the freedom of the outside world. He wanted to be among people. It was better than being alone, watching from the window.
Jango cupped Obi-Wan’s chin and gently tilted his head up, forcing their eyes to meet.
“It’s just for a few more days, Tracy’ika. We’re waiting for the shots to kick in. We don’t want you getting sick or you getting someone else sick.”
At those words, Obi-Wan’s mood brightened, hope flaring in his chest. His tail thumped furiously against the floor. He was going to leave the apartment. He wasn’t going to stay cooped up inside all the time. The promise of freedom, even if delayed, was enough to make the wait bearable.
“I promise, you’ll go outside with me as soon as you’re able,” Jango said, his smile lighting up his face.
He allowed Jango to take the leash from him and watched as it was placed back in the box. Jango patted him on the head before leaving, the touch sending a wave of comfort through Obi-Wan. The door slid shut behind Jango, but this time, the click of the lock stung a little less now.
It was only a few more days. Obi-Wan could endure this. He wouldn’t go mad that quickly, not with the promise of the outside world so close.
Bolstered by this newfound hope, Obi-Wan settled into the next few days. A predictable easy pattern emerged: a few hours of boredom, then tedium, and ending with some monotony for a change. Jango was the only bright spot in Obi-Wan’s day. When Obi-Wan heard the elevator ding, he dashed towards it, ears flapping, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Jango greeted him with a smile, crouching down and petting him.
The mythosaur toy became his constant companion, a small but significant comfort in his increasingly monotonous days. He carried it around the apartment, finding solace in its presence. He couldn’t remember the last time he had played with a stuffed toy—probably when he was a youngling in the creche. Still, it was a welcome source of comfort.
Obi-Wan spent his days alternating between napping and staring out the window, each shift offering a brief reprieve from the relentless boredom. Moving from one spot to another became his way of breaking the monotony, a small attempt to find some semblance of purpose. The knowledge that his confinement had an end in sight provided a measure of comfort, making the waiting a little easier to endure.
One morning, they finished their breakfast and Obi-Wan went to the door and sat there, waiting to see if today was the day that he would leave the apartment with Jango. That had become his routine, waiting at the door. Each day, Jango had patted him on the head and told him he’d be back later.
“We’ll see you out there,” Jango said, into a comm before ending the call. He crouched down in front of Obi-Wan and scratched his neck.
Excitement zipped through Obi-Wan’s veins.
“Are you ready, Tracy’ika?” Jango asked, eyes glinting. “You’re going outside today.”
Obi-Wan jumped for joy. He skipped around Jango. He was finally leaving the apartment.
“Come on, Tracy’ika. You still need your harness,” Jango said, grinning.
Obi-Wan stopped his celebration and patiently allowed Jango to slip the harness on him. Jango attached the leash and then opened the door. It took all of Obi-Wan’s restraint to keep from dashing into the hallway.
Jango led him outside and Obi-Wan walked next to him. They walked along a different path, heading towards the carport. Obi-Wan glanced up at Jango, wondering what was going on. He was just about certain that Jango wasn’t going to drop him off on the side of the road, not after taking care of him for the past few days. He hadn’t even chewed up a single pair of the man’s boots. Though that was awfully tempting.
They hopped into a dull blue speeder, Obi-Wan settled into the backseat, and Jango took off towards the mountains. Obi-Wan watched the landscape fly by. The journey took about fifteen minutes. Jango eased the speeder off the main path and onto a large, open field.
Jango cut the engine, the silence that followed thick with anticipation. He stepped out and opened the door for Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan hopped off and sat on his haunches. He stared up at Jango with wide, questioning eyes. He had no idea why they were here, in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but the open field and the distant mountains for company.
Jango crouched in front of him and unclipped the leash from the harness. His eyes glinted.
“Go run. Explore,” Jango said, grinning. He gestured at the expanse of open land. “I’ll call you back over in a few minutes.”
Obi-Wan turned to the field, his heart pounding in his chest. The sight of all that open land stretched out before him sent a thrill of excitement racing down his spine, striking at his very core. The sheer sense of freedom washed over him, almost dizzying in its intensity.
Suddenly, an explosive burst of energy surged through Obi-Wan and he shot across the field. His strill instincts roared to life, driving him forward with a raw, primal need that he had never felt before. His six legs moved in perfect sync, every muscle rippling with pent-up energy. This wasn’t just running; it was a release—a deep, instinctual desire finally let loose.
As Obi-Wan sank deeper into his instincts, he lifted his nose to the air, catching the rich bouquet of scents around him. Each breath filled his lungs with the earthy smell of grass, intertwined with the sharp tang of the purple and blue wildflowers that dotted the green field. Every so often, a new scent caught his attention, and he dashed toward it, pausing only briefly to dip his nose to the ground before bounding away again, driven by an insatiable need to explore.
Even amid his wild exploration, he occasionally checked on Jango. His strill side saw him as part of his pack, while his human side did so out of trust and loyalty. At first, Jango stood with his hands on his hips, a broad grin on his face as he watched Obi-Wan tear across the field. But after a while, he settled against the front of the speeder, his comm in hand, though his eyes never strayed far from Obi-Wan.
“Tracy’ika!” Jango’s voice called out across the field, breaking into Obi-Wan’s thoughts.
Obi-Wan’s ears perked up, and he bounded toward Jango without hesitation. His heart raced from a mix of exertion and exhilaration. When he reached Jango, he skidded to a stop, sitting at his feet with a blissful expression, his tongue lolling out as he panted.
“Good boy,” Jango said, voice filled with approval as he reached into a pouch at his waist and pulled out a small torn up piece of jerky.
Obi-Wan’s eyes widened at the sight of the treat, his body going ramrod straight, his tail thumping against the grass in eager anticipation. The scent of the jerky was rich and savory, making his mouth water as Jango held out his hand. Without hesitation, Obi-Wan devoured the morsel, savoring the taste.
Jango clipped the leash back onto Obi-Wan’s harness, the metal clasp clicking softly. Obi-Wan’s ears twitched at the sound. It was a small signal that the moment of freedom was coming to an end. But before Obi-Wan could dwell on it, the low hum of a speeder approaching reached his ears.
The speeder pulled up about fifty feet from them. Myles got out of the speeder and opened the door behind him. A large, golden-haired strill emerged, its long green leash attached to a matching harness.
Obi-Wan’s instincts screamed at him to be cautious, to keep his distance from the powerful alpha.
The alpha’s scent, strong and pungent, filled the air, making Obi-Wan’s nose twitch. It was a scent that spoke of dominance, of control, and it made every nerve in his body stand on edge. He pressed closer to Jango, seeking reassurance even as he kept his gaze fixed on the approaching strill.
“Hey, it’s fine,” Jango said in a calm voice. He crouched beside Obi-Wan and scratched behind his ears.
But Obi-Wan couldn’t fully relax, not with an alpha this close. His strill instincts were buzzing with unease, reminding him of the natural order of things: a lone strill, no matter how capable, was no match for an alpha.
Myles gave the leash a slight tug, guiding the alpha strill toward them.
Obi-Wan’s muscles tensed further, his body instinctively lowering as if preparing to either flee or defend, though he knew neither was the right move. He wasn’t in the Wastes anymore—this wasn’t about survival in the wild. But the primal part of him didn’t understand that, didn't care about the nuances of this situation. All it knew was that an alpha was near, and that meant danger.
“Easy, Tracy’ika,” Jango murmured, voice calm and steady, the familiar tone grounding Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan gave a mental nod, acknowledging the need to stay composed. He was a Jedi Padawan, he knew how to handle stressful situations. Yet, his primal strill side was pure instinct and it remained wary- alert to the potential threat.
Myles had stopped moving and with him, Beviin. The alpha strill stood tall and proud. His golden coat shimmered under the sunlight. His gold eyes locked onto Obi-Wan.
The intensity of Beviin’s stare made Obi-Wan’s breath quicken. He didn’t dare move, his legs stiff with tension. From the corner of his eye, he saw Myles reach into his pocket, pull out a treat and offer it to the alpha. Beviin sniffed the treat, his attention momentarily diverted.
Obi-Wan forced himself to take a slow, steady breath, trying to calm the rapid pounding of his heart. Jango’s fingers carded through Obi-Wan’s fur, further soothing his frayed nerves. Still, the tension didn’t ease entirely.
Jango gently cupped Obi-Wan’s cheek, guiding his gaze away from Beviin’s piercing stare. The alpha’s presence loomed in Obi-Wan’s mind; Beviin radiated dominance, like a tangible force that demanded respect and submission. Jango’s touch anchored Obi-Wan.
“Look at me, Tracy’ika,” Jango said in a low voice, a gentle command that Obi-Wan obeyed.
Obi-Wan’s gaze met Jango’s honey-colored eyes, for a moment the whole galaxy disappeared, and it was just the two of them. The tension in Obi-Wan’s body softened slightly.
“Good, Tracy’ika,” Jango said, giving him another piece of jerky.
Obi-Wan chewed on it, meeting Jango’s gaze as he did.
“I’ve got you, Tracy’ika,” Jango said, running his fingers down Obi-Wan’s back, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Calm determination glinted in Jango’s eyes at that statement. Obi-Wan knew in his heart that Jango meant it. That certainty cut through the fear gnawing inside Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan managed another slow breath, drawing strength from Jango’s calm. The primal part of him, the strill instincts that demanded submission in the face of an alpha, were quieter now, tempered by the rational part of his mind that trusted Jango to keep him safe.
“Do you think he’s ready?” Myles asked, voice low and controlled.
“He’s pretty stiff,” Jango said, brows furrowed. He sighed and turned to Myles, “He’s definitely still scared.”
Obi-Wan couldn’t exactly deny that. He cast a wary glance at Beviin.
The alpha strill was sitting, watching him. He had a calmness about him that reminded Obi-Wan of Jango. Beviin wasn’t in any hurry to assert himself, he knew who was in charge.
“Kriff, I can’t imagine how it was in the Wastes for him, especially with him being so young,” Myles said, shaking his head, his voice tinged with sympathy. “We can wait for him, there’s no rush.”
Jango sighed, scratching behind Obi-Wan’s ears.
“The last thing I want is for him to be afraid again.”
Obi-Wan turned to Jango, heart clenching at the sincerity in his words. The way Jango spoke, with such genuine concern and care, struck a chord deep within Obi-Wan. A wave of gratitude washed over him. In that moment, Obi-Wan knew with certainty that he couldn’t have found a more caring person to be by his side.
“We’ll take this at your pace, Tracy’ika,” Jango said.
The silence that settled over the group was not just comfortable but felt like the familiar, easy quiet shared between close friends. As they waited, the gentle rustle of wind through the grass and the soft buzz of insects flitting from flower to flower filled the air, adding a layer of tranquility to the moment. It was a peace that contrasted sharply with the oppressive air of the apartment, where every moment had felt heavy and isolating. Here, the quiet was different—it was alive, soothing, almost healing.
As the minutes passed, the tension that had lingered around them gradually melted away, aided by the natural background noises that filled the air. With each passing moment, Obi-Wan felt the tightness in his muscles begin to loosen, the anxiety that had gripped him fading into the background. Jango’s steady, rhythmic stroking along his back played a significant role, each touch helping to calm not just his human side, but the more primal strill instincts that had been on edge.
Finally, the last vestiges of tension in Obi-Wan’s muscles slipped away as his breathing returned to a slow, steady rhythm.
“I think he’s ready,” Jango said, turning to Myles.
Myles, still standing by Beviin’s side, nodded in response. He tugged on the leash and Beviin followed, moving with calm, deliberate grace. The alpha strill’s regal presence was undeniable, his golden eyes assessing but not hostile.
Jango remained crouched next to Obi-Wan. His presence was a steady source of reassurance. One hand continued to stroke Obi-Wan’s fur, each motion as comforting. The other hand slid along the harness, fingers brushing the strap, poised for action. The careful tension in Jango’s posture spoke volumes, a quiet readiness that grounded Obi-Wan.
“Easy, Tracy’ika,” Jango whispered, his voice steady and calm. The gentle encouragement helped Obi-Wan focus on the moment.
Obi-Wan took a long breath. He fought back the instinct to dip his head in submission to the alpha strill, determined to meet Beviin’s gaze without faltering. This was as much a test of his resolve as it was of his place within this new pack.
“He’s still good,” Jango said, a note of pride in his voice.
Myles guided Beviin closed, taking measured steps, eyes intent on Obi-Wan. Beviin looked at Obi-Wan with a calm curiosity, a leader assessing a potential new member.
As Beviin approached, Obi-Wan’s strill instincts whispered at the edges of his mind, urging him to submit. It wasn’t about fear, but about respect—acknowledging Beviin’s position without appearing as a threat.
Obi-Wan let out a shaky breath. He pushed aside his pride and dipped his head, not in defeat but acknowledgement— conveying his respect and acceptance of Beviin’s role as the alpha. This wasn’t a surrender but a clear signal that he understood and respected the natural order.
Tension swelled inside Obi-Wan, neck fully exposed. The vulnerability of the position was undeniable—if Beviin rejected him, the alpha could end his life in an instant. Yet, Jango’s presence at his side offered a thread of reassurance. Obi-Wan trusted that if the worst happened, Jango would yank him away and protect him. That thought eased the worst of his anxiety,
Beviin stopped just inches away, his piercing gaze boring into Obi-Wan.
Every muscle in Obi-Wan’s body remained taut, but he forced himself to stay still, relying on the silent assurance of Jango’s presence and the natural order of the pack. This was a test of will, a moment that could define his place within this new world.
Beviin leaned in closer, his muzzle brushing against Obi-Wan’s exposed neck. The touch was so light it sent a shiver down Obi-Wan’s spine. This was the critical moment—the alpha’s decision. Every instinct screamed at Obi-Wan to remain perfectly still, to not do anything that might be seen as a challenge.
Seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity as Beviin lingered, his nose hovering just above Obi-Wan’s neck. The alpha’s warm breath ruffled Obi-Wan’s fur. Obi-Wan’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears like a drum. The galaxy narrowed to this moment.
Then, in a simple yet profound gesture, Beviin leaned closer and licked Obi-Wan’s neck. The act marked Obi-Wan with the alpha’s scent and signaled his acceptance into the pack.
The tension drained from Obi-Wan’s body, replaced by overwhelming relief. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his entire being relaxing as the fear that had gripped him finally released its hold on him.
Beviin stepped back, his gaze softening slightly as he continued to watch Obi-Wan, now not as a potential threat, but as a member of the pack. He turned and padded back to Myles, who rewarded the alpha with another treat.
Jango scratched Obi-Wan’s back.
“Good job, Tracy’ika,” he said, voice bursting with pride, “You’re part of the pack now.”
Warmth spread through Obi-Wan at Jango’s words and tone. Being a part of the pack felt far more significant than he thought it would. In a way, he was no longer alone. He had Jango, his human companion, and now he had a pack, other strills that would watch out for him.
Jango gave one last pat on the head before he straightened up.
“Come on, Tracy’ika. Let’s go home.”
As they headed back to the speeder, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel a pang of reluctance. The thought of returning to the apartment, to that confined space, made his stomach twist. The freedom of the open field had been exhilarating, and the idea of going back to the silence and isolation was almost unbearable.
They arrived back at the compound and Obi-Wan stared morosely at the building. He took a deep breath and prepared himself for another afternoon alone.
Only, Jango didn’t go that way, he headed towards a smaller building. Obi-Wan perked up at the change. His tail wagged in excitement at the prospect of going somewhere new.
The door opened to the new building, and Obi-Wan eagerly followed Jango inside.