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The desert is hot, toohottoobright, and a fish-faced man grabs her arm. Tight.
“Come back!” Rey wails to the sky.
“Quiet, girl.”
Her heart shatters.
***
A man with eyes more wounded than hers hands her a blaster. It’s the first time she’s been given something.
“You might need this,” he mutters gruffly.
“I think I can handle myself.”
It’s what she’s good at.
***
“It’s too dangerous. I’m going alone.” Rey’s jaw sets stubbornly, already decided.
A warm hand wraps around her own. Tugs.
“We’re going together,” the pilot corrects gently.
She isn’t sure she’s built for that.
But she’ll try.