State of Grace || The Mandalorian

1 • Blood and Steel

Under the cover of darkness with a lamp as your only light source, you make your nightly rounds in the barn. Potential predators had gotten bolder over the past few weeks. A person could lose half their herd of cattle in one night if they weren't careful, and even more if they didn't have a proper shelter for them.

You were one of the lucky ones. Your uncle had helped you build this barn two summers ago, when you were first starting out on your own. It had two massive durasteel reinforced doors at the front and walls nearly a foot thick all around. The only downside was that constructing it had been incredibly expensive. All of your savings had gone into it.  Money was tight these days, but you lived fairly comfortably. You had never needed luxury or fancy gadgets in order to feel happy.

Banx, your loyal loth cat and rodent exterminator, comes trotting into the barn, his steps nearly silent on the padded hay beneath his paws. He pushes his head against your shin with a loud mrow and you reach down to stroke behind his ears.

"I don't think you'll find any rodents tonight." You say as you straighten up. A chill runs down your spine and you pull your coat tighter against your body. "They're all probably holed up in the loft where it's warm."

Banx meows pitifully as he weaves between your legs.

"I know, but you'll have to deal with it for now." You answer, nudging him aside with your boot. He follows at your heels as you make your way toward the goat pen.

You make sure the door to the pen is latched and lean over the wall to count heads. Four does, two bucks, and a cluster of kids. Aside from coloration, it was nearly impossible to tell which kid belonged to which doe. The does often shared babysitting duties and had no particular interest in caring for their own kid. You suppose it isn't that much of a problem as long as everyone is taken care of.

Banx pushes his head against the back of your calf and whines softly.

"Getting cold?" You tease. "Alright. Come on."

Banx follows you to the door eagerly. You do a quick sweep of the barn with your eyes before you close the heavy door and latch it. With that finished, you turn around to head back toward the house.

Somewhere along the way, you hear your name echo on the wind. It sounds like it's coming from the front of your old farmhouse. You break into a sprint across the yard, bitterly cold air burning your lungs with each breath. No one ever calls for you at this time of night unless they have an emergency.

As you round the right side of the house, you spot the flicker of a lantern among the dark shadows of the night. It's your aunt Tria, and she appears to have an armored man barely standing under the support of her arms.

"Where did you find him?" You ask, your gaze worriedly scanning his trembling frame.

"He just about passed out on my porch." She grunts. Her face contorts with effort as she struggles to keep him upright. "He's in real bad shape, I think."

You quickly approach his other side and slip an arm under his armpit. "Help me get him into the house."

He says nothing as you gently coax him forward. He appears to be limping heavily, and his breaths are uneven and strained. Although you do not yet know the origin of his wounds, you can make a few guesses based on the style of armor he wore. He was a Mandalorian. Perhaps he got into a scrap that proved to be too much for him to handle, as Mandalorians often do.

He nearly falters as you lead him up the wooden stairs of the front porch and you grab onto him before he slips. Once he steadies himself, you continue forward.

Your aunt helps you bring him into a spare room that was usually set aside for visiting relatives. She sits him down on the bed while you rush to find your medical kit. Banx isn't fond of the sudden activity and chooses to observe from his hideaway in the corner.