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Darkness pressed in all around, and the padawan shivered. It was difficult, here in the dark, to remember how to let go of her fears, especially with her Master lying unconscious beside her. The padawan reached over, unable to see but hearing and feeling her Master in the Force. She felt the heat of her Master’s skin, trembling under the fever, and she grimaced. The older Jedi’s condition had worsened, and they had little to treat her with. The padawan had no experience with Force healing, either, and even that would only offer limited relief, not a cure.
How had this mission gone so badly?
No, she could not dwell on that. She was alone – more than alone, her Master was depending on her – and she had to guide herself through her balance exercises if they were both to make it out of this. The padawan tried to relax, reaching out to the Force for guidance. But it remained elusive, clouded by her own distress and anxiety. Despair threatened her, and the darkness seemed to amplify it, emphasizing the hopelessness of their situation.
If only she hadn’t lost her lightsaber. Safe to say she’d learned her lesson on that one; no lecture could ever be as effective as this unintentional trial in reminding her to keep track of it.
Oh, but she was not alone, after all. Her Master was here, and even if she was not conscious enough to use it, her lightsaber as well.
“I’m only borrowing it, Master, I promise,” she whispered, reaching into the older Jedi’s robes. Not blindly, as if she listened carefully, she could sense the soft hum of the crystal even if it was not her own.
The light of the saber lit the cave, and the situation didn’t seem as hopeless anymore.