DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
*No.*
Silence.
*Absolutely not.*
Silence.
*It's out of the question.*
Silence.
The irresistible force was meeting the immovable object, and the object was winning.
"You cannot take that-- that thing back to the camp with us," Mace hissed, keeping his voice too low to be overheard by the children.
Qui-Gon met his eyes evenly, but made no reply. In his arms, he cradled a tarirse with a newly-splinted broken leg. It was roughly the size of a cat, covered in thick, brown fur, with strong back legs, long, floppy ears, and a mouthful of nasty fangs. It narrowed its amber eyes at Mace.
"It's a wild animal. It can take care of itself."
"It's hurt," Qui-Gon replied, calmly. "If we leave it, it will die."
"What about the rules of nature?"
Silence.
"I don't believe it. It's happening again."
"What is?"
"Every time we go anywhere, you end up finding something to drag home with you. You're like-- like a magnet for strays!"
"It's the responsibility of the strong to protect the weak."
"That thing is not weak. It's a predator. It's dangerous."
"Doesn't seem too dangerous to me," Qui-Gon retorted. Mace had to agree with that. The animal seemed perfectly content to let Qui-Gon shelter it.
"Don't worry so much, Mace. I'll make sure it doesn't do any damage." Qui-Gon turned and walked off.
"Famous last words," Mace said, glumly, but followed.
Mace gathered all the children in a group, as they reached the campsite.
"It's getting dark. Time for dinnner--"
"And songs!"
"And songs. And then--"
"Ghost stories!"
"And ghost stories-- and then bed," Mace said, hurriedly.
The children scattered to wash dirty hands and faces, while the adults set out the box dinners. Qui-Gon settled the tarirse in a nest of rags, off to the side, cautioning the fascinated children to leave it alone.
"Can't we share our dinner with it? It looks hungry."
"It's a wild animal, Narren. They can take care of themselves," Qui-Gon said, automatically. Then, before Mace could make a sarcastic comment, added, hastily, "Once its leg is healed, it will be returned to the wild. We can't let it become too dependent on us."
"My parents raise Jubba birds," volunteered a young Quian boy, and the rest of dinner was taken up in questions and answers about the birds, their habits, and if they really used the Force, or if that was just a myth.
"Songtime!" Mace declared, as soon as the washing-up was finished. The children applauded happily.
"What do we sing first?" D'lar, the Quian, asked.
"Master Qui-Gon knows a good song-- all about birds," Mace said.
Qui-Gon was stricken speechless by this act of treachery. For about half a second. "I don't think I--"
"Sing it, Master Qui-Gon, sing it!"
"Please, sir?"
"Please, please, please!"
"Come on, Master Qui-Gon. Don't be a spoilsport," Mace said, grinning.
*You, Mace Windu, are a little, little man.* But he knew when he was beaten. He was a lousy singer, and he knew that, too. But he supposed he could at least say the words.
"I am a little yellow bird,
I fly throughout the air.
I fly above the puffy clouds,
I fly to Everywhere."
Mace was smirking. Qui-Gon could feel his face reddening, but continued on, doggedly.
"I am a little yellow bird,
And through the great big sky
I flap my little yellow wings,
Because I love to fly.
"I am a little yellow bird,
I fly to where lands end.
You know the reason why I fly?
To see my friends again."
Mace led the applause. Qui-Gon relaxed.
"I know that song, too!" Ki'Tohr said, his voice excited. "Can we do it again?"
"Of course!" Mace said, happily.
"Can we do the dance?"
Mace's smile grew even wider. "There's a dance?"
"Oh, yeah!"
"Oh, please. Yes, please, do the dance. Come on, Master Qui-Gon," Mace said. "Do the dance."
And so, flapping their arms and bobbing their heads, Ki'Tohr and Qui-Gon did the Yellow Bird Song, while the children clapped and cheered with sincere admiration, and Mace Windu tried his hardest not to wet his pants.
All good things come to an end, however, and finally-- after three encores-- Qui-Gon took his seat again, plotting vengeance.
"Time for a few stories, and then bed," he said, firmly.
"I know a good one!" Llyland, the other Shistavanen student, volunteered.
As he told the story-- something about woodcutters and a red hooded evildoer-- Qui-Gon let himself relax. Personal humiliation aside, it hadn't been such an awful day. The children were obviously having a wonderful time. With a little luck, they'd learned something, as well.
"I know a good one," Mace said, when the oohs and ahhs had died down after the big finish.
Qui-Gon had to admit that it was a pretty good story, and Mace told it well. As the other man's voice got lower and more ominous, the children crept closer to Qui-Gon, and their eyes got wider. Obi-Wan had pushed himself up against the Master's side. Gently, he lowered his arm to take in both the boy and his Shistavanen friend; and repeated the process on his other side, to gather several of the other children in. The remainder were clustered around his legs, pressing in tightly.
Mace was clearly enjoying himself, as he got closer to the story's climax.
"...and the boy crept closer and closer to the bushes, as his friends watched. And he threw a rock in!"-- dramatic pause-- "and nothing happened. And he picked up a stick, and he poked the bushes!"-- another pause-- "and nothing happened. And the boy turned his back, and said 'There's nothing there!'" Long, long pause. "And then..." -- pause -- "A long, slimy tentacle reached out, and grabbed him by the leg, and dragged him in!"
A shriek rose from all the children at once, and there wasn't even a little amusement in the sound.
"I think that's about enough," Qui-Gon said, although the damage had been done. Several of the younger boys were already eyeing the shrubbery with concern. "Time for bed." Twelve sets of enormous eyes looked at him in disbelief. "Now."
Very reluctantly, the small party broke up, and they began to head for the pavilion and their sleeping bags. Qui-Gon glared at a surprised, and sheepish, Mace.
"I didn't think they'd take it seriously...."
"Well, they did. Nicely done."
When the Masters settled down in their own bedding, Qui-Gon was somewhat amused to find that the students in their bags were scooting themselves closer to the adults.
"Master Mace?"
"Yes, Narren?"
"There isn't really a Swamp Monster, is there?"
"Of course not. It was just a story." Windu's voice was calm and reassuring, and he sent a warm wave of comfort and protectiveness over their small charges, all of whom relaxed. He stretched out one long arm, and pulled Narren's bag a little closer. "The only thing anyone here has to be afraid of is Master Qui-Gon. If you wake him up too early in the morning, he's a real grouch."
Sleepy giggles answered this sally, so Qui-Gon added, "Just you remember that, all of you. Now, go to sleep. Good night."
"Night, sir."
And silence reigned over the site.
Something just under the level of consciousness woke Qui-Gon. A slight exertion of the Force told him Mace was awake, too. There was something near the camping site.
Careful not to wake the sleeping children, both adults slipped from their bags, and out of the pavilion. The night was very cool, and the moon shining overhead, very bright. They could see nothing.
*I know I felt it.*
Mace nodded. *So did I. I didn't bring my lightsaber.*
*Me, neither.*
A very faint rustle made both men reorient themselves... to see nothing.
*I'll go around the back,* Mace sent. *You take the firepit.*
Qui-Gon nodded, and they both moved off.
Qui-Gon had just got to their little circle, barely five metres away, when he heard the shriek of twelve little voices, upraised in panic.
"It's the Swamp Monster!"
He turned on his heel, and sprinted back, long legs covering the distance in an instant. From behind the pavilion, he could hear Mace cursing; and from the pavilion's entrance, all twelve students emerged. The corner poles collapsed; and the tent came swooping down. A struggling figure in the middle of the material bore witness to the fact that there was something there.
Mace extracted himself from the folds at the back, and limped up. "That-- thing-- you saved bit the Sith out of me," he gasped. "I tripped on a guywire, and--" He realised the attention of the others was on the pavilion.
Slowly, the material began to rise into the air.
"It's the Swamp Monster," whispered the tiny Geelan boy.
"No," Mace whispered. "It's worse."
The pavilion continued to rise.
"What is it?" The boy's eyes were enormous.
Qui-Gon's deep voice replied, "Master Yoda."