What's a Mandalorian? || Din Djarin

16|Fuck|

I drag my feet through the sand, imitating someone who's close to death and searching for any help she can find in a vast, hot desert. I hold the cut on my left arm with my right hand and walk with a slight limp. With each step I let out a fake whimper.

"Please," I wail exhaustedly, "S-someone help me." I try to sound breathy and tired, barely willing myself to continue on. The sun beats down on my back, making me sweat feverishly. I'm almost to the center of the opening to the camp, now. Din can surely see me by now.

I can't see him, though. I would expect to be able to see him easily with the sun reflecting off of his suit, but he's hidden himself well in the rocky terrain up there.

"Help," I whine, "I need help." I haven't seen single guard yet, or really anyone. If Din didn't tell me there were people here, I would've assumed it was empty by the looks of it. The breeze jostles the burlap tents ever so slightly, adding to the illusion that it's abandoned.

"Is there anyone," I raise my voice, now, trying to project it into the camp. Maybe I was acting too exhausted before and nobody heard me. "Please, is there anyone-"

"Stop."

An unfamiliar voice booms across the desert. I'm not sure how, but it's amplified. Maybe over an intercom, or something? I stop in my tracks.

"Help me," I call out to the disembodied voice. I raise my arm to wipe the sweat from dripping in my eyes.

"I said stop."

I halt all movements, but look up at the edge of the cliff. Still no sign of Din anywhere.

"Turn around and leave," the voice booms.

"Please, I'm going to die out there," I plead with the faceless being.

"Do not move."

I stand as still as I can possibly stand, afraid that Din's warning of an on-sight sniper might become reality if I move a muscle. I watch as ten men, all holding blasters, come out of the shadows of the camp before me.

"Turn around and get on your knees," the voice commands me. I follow the orders and face the sun as I drop to my knees. I hear the footsteps of the men approaching me. They say nothing, but I can hear their grip on their weapons as they get closer and closer.

Then, an idea strikes me. Should I fake pass out? If I 'pass out', would they bring me in their camp, or would they leave me out here to die? Are they going to search me? What if they find the pistol in my belt, or the transponder in my waistband, or the knife in my boot? If I pass out, would they bring me to some kind of med center in their camp? What if they hand cuff me?

Before I can make a decision, the men have caught up to me. 

"Stand," the voice booms. I do as they say and get up from my knees and stand up as wobbly as I could make it look. I think I'm a good actor.

The lead man comes up to me and spins me around to face the camp again. When I face him, he looks me up and down, examining the damage.

"It's just a girl. At ease, boys," the lead man says. At his command, the rest of the men drop their weapons.

"How did you get all the way out here?" he asks me. I didn't think this far ahead in my fake story.

"I was jumped by some guys. They took everything I had and dropped me in the middle of the desert." I try to conjure up some fake tears, but unsuccessfully so. 

"Start walking." He grabs me by the shoulder and leads me toward the camp. I scan the top of the cliff, but still no sign of Din. So, I start walking, keeping up the fake limp.