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Master Yaniko struggled to get to her feet in the slippery mud, and when she was finally upright again, he noticed she was favoring her left leg a little, and when she tried to put some weight on it, she grimaced with pain. He groaned silently, contemplating just turning around and walking out of camp now.
Flinging mud? Yelling at his Master? Causing personal injury?
It was the Agri-Corps for him as soon as they got back to the Temple.
He lifted his eyes slowly, hesitant to look at his Master, dreading to see the censure on her face, the disapproval—perhaps even dislike—he knew would be there. When he finally dared to meet her gaze, he was surprised to see that she wasn’t scowling at him. Quite the contrary, she looked amused, as if she were going to start laughing again, and he stood there, just watching her, bewildered by this turn of events.
Then without warning, he took the full brunt of a glop of mud right in his face immediately followed by another in the middle of his chest. Some of the goop slid down the neckline of his tunic, oozing down his chest and leaving a trail of cold slime along his bare skin.
“M-Master?” He wiped the muck from his face, slanting a wary look at her—only to take another mudball.
“Come, my Padawan,” she called, a teasing note in her voice. “Get it all out. Release your anger, and then we’ll talk.”
Release his anger—? What did she—?
Another mud-missile, this one ending up in his hair, making it even more matted.
Hesitantly, he reached out with the Force and picked up a pile of sludge, letting it dangle in mid-air. Master Yaniko gestured, a taunting little “come on” wave of her hand as if daring him; still he did nothing, wondering if he were only digging himself deeper into trouble, but a fourth mudball—another direct hit in his face—helped him decide he didn’t care.
He hurled his own missile at her, tracking her when she dodged at the last minute; rather than let it splatter uselessly against a nearby tree, he maintained control, causing it to swerve and hit her from behind. A volley of mudballs followed from both sides of the clearing, both of them dodging behind trees and rocks to avoid being hit in their impromptu live target practice session.
By the time it was over, he was breathless and panting, but even as his body registered fatigue, his spirit felt lighter than it had in ages. Anger and resentment were gone, released into the Force.
Master Yaniko moved to the center of their ruined campsite, bracing her hands on her hips, barely recognizable as the tall, dignified woman he was accustomed to seeing, hidden beneath a thick coating of mud. “Now then,” she said quietly. “We’ll get cleaned up and then we’ll talk.”