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Thirteen years before the attack on the Jedi Temple, Temple Guard Tsino Ke receives a coded summons to Mandalore, a world he had not visited in just under a year, after being rejected at the end of a brief affair. He almost refuses to consider the invitation, reminding himself of the intense guilt he had felt after breaking his vows, but the slightest tinge of curiosity urges him to return.
Upon his arrival, there is a driver waiting for him who takes him to an empty room at an expensive hotel overlooking the capital city. He is given instructions to wait, and not to leave under any circumstances until he is told. Tsino rehearses his refusal of the former Duchess’ daughter, remembering just how much royalty hated to be told “no”. After several hours, a knock comes at the door. He opens it, not to find his former lover, but a man he vaguely remembers seeing as a personal guard to the royal family. This time though, he was wearing what appeared to be a simple delivery man’s outfit. He carries a large box, somewhat ornately decorated, which he pushes into the Pau’an’s chest. On top of the box is a wax-sealed envelope.
“Instructions for how to proceed are inside. You will find your new travel documents enclosed. Please leave the planet promptly within three days time.”
After this discourteous greeting, the man leaves, shutting the door behind him. Tsino Ke finds the encounter most unusual. He sets the box down on a nearby table, and begins to pry the seal from the letter, not entirely sure what to expect. There are a fair number of legal documents inside, which he brushes aside, looking for a personal letter. There is none, only a vague set of instructions that seem to make little sense. Then, he hears a stirring inside the box.
His head tilts towards the sound briefly, but it desists. Still, he feels a nagging sense- no, a need to investigate. He ignores his first impulse, and goes back to investigating the legal documents. He sees a gold-leaf page that catches his attention, and he sucks in a hard breath when he realizes its content. It is a blank birth certificate. His head spins, and he has to sit down. Then, the box begins to whimper before erupting in a shrill cry.
This time he cannot ignore his instinct. Sharpened nails tear through the box’s gilded lid, exposing a passably Pau’an infant, still uncleaned, umbilical cord cut far too long before being placed unceremoniously into a gift box and sent to an unsuspecting father. Calculating eyes inspect the child. Female. Seemingly good health. Still screaming. His fingers tenderly trace over his clan markings, clear on its face- her face. The familiar feeling of dread begins to settle in his stomach, but he swallows it down as his hands slide under the infant and he lifts it from the box. Her stomach was still swollen, eyes still shut, this child could not have been more than an hour old.
He carries her over to the bathroom sink, and somehow remembers to test the water on his hand before brushing it over her, washing the blood away from her body which squirms under the unfamiliar sensation. Her screams intensify, and the mirror rattles, giving him pause. He resumes the bath and clips her cord to the appropriate length. The mirror shatters, and he is quick to pull his daughter out of danger, into his chest. It takes him a moment to catch his breath, and calm himself down. He sinks into the floor, still holding her safely against him, and cries out in despair. Only then, he realizes that for the first time since he has known her, she has stopped her crying.
Tsino Ke swallows. He closes his eyes for a moment, and feels the life force surrounding the child in his hands. When he opens them again, he shifts her upright, high on his chest, and places his lips on the fuzz of hair adorning what should be- as far as he is concerned- a bald head. His concentration drowns out the sound of the sink, still gushing water. The cold of the tile floor beneath him ebbs away.
“My little one… You feel it too.” He hums. The Force is strong in her. Her weak arms twitch against his chest. He peels back his shirt, wanting nothing more than her contact. Her skin is warm and soft- he observes, before he drifts off into an exhausted sleep.
He dreams of a direwolf, high on the plains of his homeworld, Utapau. It is lean and starving. It hunts, it kills, it fights its own pack to the death. High winds pick up, and it senses its own doom. Then, from beneath its mother, a wolf-pup cries out. The wolf approaches, sniffs the offspring, and recognizes it as its own. Together they take shelter from the wind, and live on another day.
He awakes, to find himself still sitting on the bathroom floor, his daughter fast asleep against him.
“So that’s it then… My pup. My little Tsiri.” The more he repeats it, the better it sounds. Tsino and Tsiri Ke. The Wolf and his Pup.