Chapter Text
The first time Ahsoka Tano uses the Force is when she's not quite three years old.
It's a hot, quiet afternoon, the kind where there's not a breeze in sight and the air is still and heavy. Mother is reading on the porch up by the house, Father is in his shed carving a new sculpture and Ahsoka and her sister are doing what they always do on days like this- playing in the stream that runs into the woods behind their house.
Cassidra is older and therefor allowed to do more exciting things, like jumping from their rope swing into the stream below. The big old trees beside the stream provide some protection from the sun and Ahsoka watches enviously from the shade as her older sister falls from the rope into the water, shrieking with laughter.
For the fifth time.
Cassidra could come play in the water with her, but lately she's decided that's boring. At the grand old age of five, she wants to do big kid stuff now. That's fine, Ahsoka decides, if Cassi doesn't want to play with her, Ahsoka doesn't want to play with her either. Pointedly, she turns away from the stream and begins drawing in the mud with a stick.
The circle she starts out with grows triangles for ears, then long pointy teeth. A few extra scribbles become the shaggy fur and the long tail, and Ahsoka nods with satisfaction at her Akul.
It looks just like the one she's been dreaming about lately.
In her dream, the Akul never attacks. It crouches in the shadows, yellow eyes narrowed at her. It howls it's piercing howl. But it never attacks.
Ahsoka wonders what it's waiting for.
She continues to scribble, attempting to tune out her sister, when suddenly Cassi lets out a scream. Ahsoka freezes.
That hadn't been a happy scream.
She turns around dread coiling in her stomach, and somehow, she already knows what she's going to see.
Upstream, Cassidra is scrambling up the bank, throwing frantic glances behind her. Ahsoka follows her gaze into the water, where an Akul slinks across the shallow stream towards her. It's teeth are bared, eyes bright with intent. It's orange fur is sleek with water and it's pointy ears are flattened against it's skull.
It's like something out of a nightmare.
Akul are the stuff of legends amongst the children of Shili. They're a scary campfire story, the bad guys in all the children's books. Once, at a diner, Ahsoka heard a mother telling her child, “Eat your dinner, or an Akul will gobble you up instead!”
Mother and Father have told Ahsoka and Cassidra many times not to worry. After all, Akul hunt in the grasslands and the grasslands are very far away.
Mother lied, Ahsoka thinks. The Akul snarls.
“Father!” Cassi shrieks. “Father, help me!”
Her shout of alarm brings Father running. Mother was off the porch at the first sign of danger, but Ahsoka can tell they're not going to make it in time. The Akul is going to eat Cassi and then it's going to eat her and then they'll both become part of the scary campfire story.
I'm not going to let that happen, Ahsoka decides, and there's such a feeling of certainty behind that thought that she's not even afraid as she steps closer to the bank.
Cassi has fallen onto her hands and knees in her haste to get away. She's crying, and in the distance Ahsoka can hear their parents shouting. Ahsoka doesn't cry. She doesn't shout. She feels strangely calm, standing on the bank of the stream staring down her planet's most feared predator.
She doesn't have a plan, like the heroes in Mother's bedtime stories always do. She just knows that there's an Akul ready to pounce on her sister and the adults are too far away and she has to do something.
“Stop!” she commands, holding a hand out. That feeling of certainty expands, turns into something solid and real and powerful and-
The Akul doesn't just stop. The Akul flies backwards into the stream, yowling it's displeasure. It hits the far bank and doesn't get back up, half submerged in the water.
Her father, mother, and three of their neighbours halt in their tracks twenty feet away, weapons raised. Even from here, Ahsoka can see their eyes are very, very wide.
For a moment, all is once again still and quiet and peaceful aside from Cassi's hiccuping sobs.
“By the moons of Shili,” says a friend of her father's, sounding like he's been hit over the head with something heavy, “Jepsa-”
“Not now,” Father says harshly. “It's not dead yet. Let's get the beast taken care of.”
Mother won't let Ahsoka or her sister watch as the grown ups 'take care' of the Akul. Instead, she ushers the two of them back inside, hugs them both fiercely and fixes them a snack.
“What am I going to do with you?” Mother says to Ahsoka, who's sitting on the counter waiting for a taste of the dough she's mixing. Her tone is happy, but Ahsoka squints.
“You're sad,” she says, that certain feeling returning. “Don't be sad. It's alright now.”
Mother's face does- something. “I'm not sad, darling. You and Cassi are safe, how could I possibly be sad?”
Ahsoka isn't sure. But Mother offers her some of the dough and she forgets all about it.
That evening, one of her father's longtime friends, who helped 'take care' of the Akul, comes back to the house, with a present for Ahsoka.
“For you,” he says with a flourish, holding it out to her. It's a headdress of Akul teeth. Ahsoka's eyes widen. Only Togruta who have killed an Akul get to wear those.
“Really, Zorris?” Mother sounds exasperated, but Ahsoka is delighted. She tries on the too-large headdress, beaming even as it slips sideways. That makes even Mother smile a little.
“Everyone agrees- she should have it,” Zorris explains. “They say it's only right. What she did- it was remarkable.”
Ahsoka doesn't know what remarkable means, but it sounds good. She smiles, suddenly feeling shy.
“Well, if that's all you're here for,” Father says from the doorway, “let me show you out.”
Zorris fixes Father with that kind of stare that grown-ups do sometimes. “Hang on a moment, Jepsa. I'm here because I know you won't do it- it's time to call the Jedi.”
“Ahsoka,” calls her mother. Ahsoka looks up, frowning at the trembling tone. “Come here please.”
Ahsoka runs to Mother, who picks her up and kisses her on the forehead. She holds Ahsoka tight for a moment and Ahsoka feels that same certain sense of sad as before. Mother sighs. “Time for bed, Ashla,” she says. “Run along now. I'll be there in a moment to say goodnight.”
Ahsoka wiggles down and leaves the kitchen, though she lingers, just for a moment in the hallway.
“Please,” Father says. He sounds tired. “Zorris- we need more time.”
“The longer you draw this out, the harder it's going to be,” Zorris says. “You need to think about what's best for your daughter. You promised when she was born- first sign of developing abilities, you call the Jedi.”
Ahsoka shakes her head, not understanding and continues down the hall. She takes a moment to swing her fists at an imaginary Akul, pushes her headdress higher on her forehead, then pretends to kick her door open.
Sleep comes easily to her that night. She dreams not of the waiting Akul, but of a kind, strange man with a brown robes, a mask and a glowing blue sword.