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It began like any other day. In hindsight, that really should have been a warning. After all, it’s only in the face of boring normalcy that potential catastrophe sees fit to come rocketing out of the sky.
Literally. They crash-landed on her farm.
Mira may only be twelve, but she is a very mature twelve, thank you very much. After years of helping her mother in the town’s only dingy tavern, Mira had heard the whispered rumblings of all sorts of terrifying monsters spoken behind cupped hands when the booze got flowing. It would be enough to send a less cultured child straight to hiding under their bed.
Cultured as she was, Mira always assumed that all the stories about Mandalorians were just that.
Stories.
The metal men were bedroom creatures that exasperated parents utilized to get their kids in line.
Mira could still see her mother wagging her finger as her hapless daughter tried to clean up a cup of spilled milk staining the floor.
“You’d better behave! Otherwise, the Mandalorians will come down from the sky and steal you away! That’s what they do, you know, steal away naughty children!”
Mira had simply rolled her eyes and bitten back a sharp retort. There was no way it could be true. An absurdly armored army that never took their helmets off and went around kidnapping unruly children? Please.
Now, however, as Mira crouched down behind the tall grass and watched a real flesh and blood (she assumed) Mandalorian stumble from the broken side of his ship with a wrapped bundle in his arms, she wasn’t quite so sure.
She watched his struggle from a safe distance. From the way he was staggering, the Mandalorian was either injured or exhausted. Or more likely, both. From the state of his ship’s shattered haul, it was clear they'd had one hell of a trip down.
And now he’s brought his trouble to our farm, Mira thought testily. Still, how much harm could one man do, Mandalorian or not?
X
After watching the uninvited visitor stumble his way to the edge of the wooded area on their land, Mira returned to her house, content that the man was at least off their property. Though her father was going to throw a fit when he got home and saw the remnants of a strange ship scattered haphazardly across his fields.
Ah well. Not her problem.
Still. Mira’s eyes slid over to the basket by the front door, filled with freshly baked bread and apples. She was meant to bring it to school the next day.
She shouldn’t. She really, really shouldn’t. But… the bundle in his arms. It had to be, didn’t it?
Muttering words that would surely make her mother slap the back of her head, Mira swept up the basket and stalked out of the house.
He wasn’t all that hard to find. Mira was a bit surprised by that, but then again, Mandalorians didn’t exactly scream “stealth,” what with all their excessive armor.
The Mandalorian sat back against a tree, head tilted slightly to one side. Mira could see his chest rising up and down, too quickly for a stationary man. The bundle was cradled in his arms and, were those, yes, those were definitely ears poking out the top. Green ears. Huh.
Snap.
Mira winced as a twig broke under her foot but knew instinctively that it was too late. She didn’t need to see the man swing his gun up to know it was now trained on her forehead.
“Don’t shoot!” Mira cried, an audible wobble in her high voice. The gun remained trained in her direction, but the Mandalorian held his shot.
“Come out.” The voice was gruff, cracking in a way only a throat rubbed raw with thirst could achieve.
Mira moved forward tentatively, clutching the basket to her chest. Oh man if this guy murders me, my parents are going to kill me.
“Your ship wrecked part of our field.”
Yikes. Maybe mom’s right and my brain really is connected to my mouth with nothing substantial in between.
To her surprise, the Mandalorian snorted. If his head was bare, she suspected she might have even seen the hint of a smile. “Yeah, well, sorry about that. I’m usually a rather excellent pilot.”
“Well I guess anyone can have an off day,” Mira said, flipping her hair over her shoulder with much more bravado than she felt. She rubbed a toe in the dirt. “I saw you come out of the ship, and I saw, you know, what you were holding.”
Instantly, any semblance of humor vanished, and the Mandalorian’s finger twitched on the gun that was now facing the ground. “Did you now.”
Mira nodded, biting her lip. “I- I just- well I wanted to make sure the baby was ok.” She held out the basket of food and felt a flash of pride at the steadiness of her hands. “I don’t know if it’s the right thing for him to eat but…”
The gentle smell of still-warm bread wafted across the few feet of space separating the two. When the man didn’t speak, Mira began to worry that maybe she was misreading this whole situation. What if the babe was already-
The alarmingly big and vividly green ears popped out from the blankets.
She stepped tentatively forward, still holding out the basket. Gently setting in on the ground in front of this incredibly strange pair, Mira quickly scooted back, giving them more than a safe distance.
The Mandalorian let out a half-frustrated, half-amused huff when the babe effectively wiggled out of his grasp and dropped to the ground. He waddled over to the basket and promptly hefted himself up and into it. The sound of munching quickly followed as the Mandalorian swiped a loaf, likely to save for later.
The helmet tipped up to face her again. “Thanks, kid.”
And - oh. Mira absolutely ought to be afraid of this stranger, but the exhausted tilt of his back and the happy noises emanating from her basket simply made her want to bundle the pair up by a nice fire.
I wonder if he’s green too.
“My Pa is going to be home soon. He’s not going to be very happy when he sees the state of our field. Fair warning, he’ll probably try to scavenge your stuff.”
The Mandalorian’s head turned toward the direction of her house, and Mira could practically see the wheels turning in his mind.
How odd. She could see nothing of his face and yet, somehow, his emotions were still remarkably clear. Perhaps, as the stories told, Mandalorians simply knew no other way and adapted accordingly.
Bracing one hand against the tree, the Mandalorian staggered to his feet. He swept down one arm and scooped up the basket, baby and all. A noise of dissent bubbled up from the straw, and those remarkable green ears sprang back up.
“Yeah, yeah, you stay there, Ad’ika,” the Mandalorian told the basket. “At least I know you won’t be wandering off for as long as there’s food in there.”
The little green head surfaced as the tiny creature blinked big eyes up at his - what exactly?
Must be some sort of love, Mira mussed, watching him run a gentle finger down the side of the baby’s head.
The metal helmet turned back her way, and Mira couldn’t help stiffening. The man seemed to consider her for a long moment before turning, hefting the basket higher on his arm as his other hand raised in a half-wave of farewell.
“Owe you one, kid.”
Mira watched the pair leave, quietly standing still until the two disappeared into the forest, moving in the general direction of chimney smoke off in the distance.
What a strange day today was. Mira couldn’t help but wonder about the metal man and the little green child. How did they know each other? How had they come to be alone, crash landing on a simple farming world?
Why did the Mandalorian clutch the babe to his armored chest as though he was made of precious metal?
Were they kin? Somehow, she doubted that he would be able to hide such large ears under that helmet.
Not family then.
Or maybe, Mira mused, turning to head back towards her home, that’s not the part that matters at all.