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Qui-Gon cracked his eyes open, waiting patiently for them to adjust to the darkness. The rain had stopped, and he assumed it was the absence—finally—of the steady plopping of raindrops on the roof of his tent that had awakened him…
…Or perhaps it was that odd ripping noise that had alerted him.
His sleepy brain barely had time to process the implications, barely had time to spur his sluggish body into action, trying desperately to untangle himself from his bedroll and get out of the tent—just a little too late.
The roof of the tent, which had been collecting water, ripped at the seams, dousing him from head to toe right before the entire thing collapsed entirely.
Shaking himself like a finicky wet cat, he crawled out of the ruins of his tent, resentment seething deep in his chest. If this was his Master’s idea of “fun,” this was going to be a long apprenticeship…
Roused by all the commotion, Master Yaniko peeked out of her own tent, her pale blue eyes growing wide with surprise as she took in his bedraggled appearance. Slowly she slid her gaze over to his tent, and her jaw fell slightly.
“What happened?”
Qui-Gon stared at her silently for a moment, taking in her warm and snugly dry tent, knowing she had probably been sleeping soundly because she LIKED this sort of idiotic venture into the wilderness. Meanwhile, he was standing there in soaked clothes that clung to him, chilling him to the bone and dripping to boot, his short hair sticking up in spiky, matted clumps, his bedroll also soaked and probably ruined. Resentment bubbled up into his throat, but he was determined to keep his attitude respectful.
Before he could answer, however, the tsara appeared.
With a gasp of dismay at the sudden appearance of a massive, shaggy beast, he reached for his lightsaber, but Master Yaniko lifted her hand in a warning gesture and whispered, “They’re not dangerous unless they’re provoked. Just remain calm and still.”
He froze, watching the creature lumber around their camp, snuffling—until it zoned in on their food supply. With a grunt that Qui-Gon could only translate as animalistic pleasure, the tsara began riffling through their supplies, and he let out an indignant yelp.
“That’s our FOOD!” he cried, feeling helpless as he watched the beast happily munch on their supply of fruit.
Master Yaniko gave him a long, level look. “Yes, I know. What would you have me do? Engage the creature in diplomatic negotiations for the last piece? Or should I simply arm-wrestle him for it?”
“But—but—it’s eating our food…”
Dismayed, he gaped at the tsara until it had eaten its fill and wandered back into the woods again. An arduous hike up the mountain, being torn away from his studies, caught in the rain, having water dumped on him, and now this. It was just too much. Whirling to face his Master, Qui-Gon clenched his hands into fists at his sides.
“You want to know what happened?” he cried, all the anger and frustration that had built up inside over the past few months bursting forth in one torrential flood. “This whole disaster of a trip is what happened! I’m cold, I’m wet, I’m going to be hungry now that thing has eaten most of our food, and I want to go home! I hate this place, I hate climbing mountains, and I hate—“
He bit off the words before he could say something he knew he would regret, something that would forever hang between them, but Master Yaniko looked at him as if he’d just slapped her, and he knew he didn’t have to say the words: she’d heard them after all.
“I thought,” she said quietly, not quite looking at him, “you would enjoy this.”
“No!” he exclaimed, still too angry and miserable himself to be kind. “I’d rather be reading or meditating, but if I MUST be dragged all over this nightmare of a planet, then why couldn’t we have camped someplace peaceful like near that waterfall we passed?”
For a long moment, Master Yaniko just stared at him, incredulity blooming in her eyes. And then she began to laugh.
Qui-Gon wasn’t one to lose his temper quickly or easily, but when he did…
He wanted her to suffer as he had suffered; he wanted her to be as uncomfortable and unhappy as he was, and there was only one way his anger-fogged mind could come up with.
The Force-flung mudball smacked her right in the face, the impact causing her to stagger backwards, enough to make her lose her balance, slip in the wet grass, and fall into a large mud puddle close behind her.
The sight of her falling ignominiously on her backside and getting drenched in mud brought Qui-Gon back to his senses quickly enough; an icy hand clenched his heart as he realized he might have just terminated his own apprenticeship. He wouldn’t blame her; this certainly wasn’t the sort of respect a Padawan was expected to show his or her Master!