The Return of the Big Friendly (& Force Sensitive?) Giant

The Journey to the Dunes

Come on! Rey hissed. This could be the one we've been searching for.

He swivelled his ears and then his eyes down towards her, her tiny form breaking briefly out from under his long shadow before being swallowed again into the darkness. He followed her outstretched arm to where it met a far-off sand dune. Something at its apex was catching in the noonday light.

He wasn't faring well in this land. Normally he was leaps and bounds ahead of any human companion, a single stride of his worth 10 of theirs. But what he had in height was matched in his weight, which in a place like this, had serious disadvantages. He'd never had the lightest tread, and all it took was a fractionally too-enthusiastic misstep for the sand to cave inwards beneath his feet and for all 24ft of him to stick- fast.

By contrast, Rey tore on without difficulty. It helped that she was small and spry, but she was also clearly used to this kind of terrain, careful to keep her footing light, instinctually carrying herself so that she bore across the sand rather than down into it.

And she always seemed to sense that he was stuck before he knew it himself. He would see her little body tense up and then whip around to face him just as he felt the ground begin to give. She took greater offence each time it happened, as if she imagined it was a practical joke he was playing on her. Perhaps if she knew his embarrassment at being felled in such an undignified way she would be cheered by it.

Still, he always waited patiently as she indulged in a long performative sigh and eye roll (he couldn't see her eyes from here of course, only hear the optic nerves buckling against the back of her skull). And then the hand that she usually kept fastened to the strap of her shoulder bag would grow slack and she would bring it in front of her eyes, always regarding the palm as if it were a wild animal she was taking great care not to spook. Then she would glance again at him, and, as if the wretchedness of his situation somehow allowed for her resolve, the soft shadow between her eyebrows hardened to a sharp crease as she stretched out her hand towards him.