What's a Mandalorian? || Din Djarin

17|Please|

My hands and fingers are red and sticky.

A dark red mixture of blood and dirt is caked underneath the fingernails on all ten of my fingers.

The hair that has fallen out of my braid has glued itself to my forehead with sweat and blood.

An eerie silence has befallen the desert. 

The sun has begun its descent back into darkness.

And I don't know if Din is even alive.

*

"Din? Please wake up," I keep whispering to him, desperate. I've been able to drag his body up the hill to the ship, but I can't get him inside the ship. Even if I could, I don't know how to fly a Starfighter. I feel hopeless.

I was able to stop the bleeding before I dragged him up here. A few canisters of bacta spray helped stop the bleeding, as well as the belt and rags I tightened around his torso. Even so, I have no idea if he's still bleeding internally. I don't know if the blast hit an organ. I don't know how much blood he's lost. I don't know what I'm doing.

I can't even tell if his heart is still beating. I think I can feel a pulse in his carotid artery, but I'm shaking so much and my own heart is pounding so hard I can't tell. I don't want to take any of his armor or clothes off, but it's making it difficult work around.

"Din?" I whisper. He still lays on the makeshift sled I crafted from a sheet of metal tied to a rope. I couldn't drag him up the rocks without it. I stopped the sled just under the ship, hopefully hidden well enough to keep him safe if anyone were to come looking.

I haven't even considered myself and my own wounds yet. My forearms are both covered in scratches and gashes from the talons of Seggor Ki. I think there are a few on my back as well, but I don't have time to worry about that right now. I'm coated nearly head to toe in dirt and blood, from myself, Din, and the enemies I fought earlier. I can't even imagine what I look like right now.

I check his pulse again. I'm pretty sure I can feel his heart beat now. It's really faint, but there's a soft bump rhythmically tapping away in there somewhere. It'll probably stay really faint just from the sheer amount of blood missing from his veins. I let out the breath I was holding for some reason. At least a little relief.

I slump down against a rock next to his body. The amount of physical exhaustion I feel is more than anything I've ever experienced before. I'm too tired to even blink regularly.

I raise the canteen to my lips and swallow as much as I can take, now realizing my intense thirst. I empty nearly half of the canteen before thinking about Din. He's probably even thirstier than I am. I can't just dump it in his mouth. I can't even lift his helmet to find his mouth. I set the canteen aside, saving it for when he wakes up.

How long will it take him to wake up?

The sun sets quickly on this planet. Just within a few minutes it went from dusk to pitch black out here. The temperature is also dropping rapidly. The caked blood on my skin leaves a chill as the hot heat of the desert dissipates.

I stand up, slowly. My muscles are reluctant to work correctly anymore. Din is much heavier than he looks, and I'm paying for it now. I stumble my way up the ship and into the cockpit to grab some things.

I grab my cloak, the tent, a few pieces of food, and a few more containers of bacta from my bag. I'm so glad I brought all of it with us.

My idea is to set up the tent to keep us warm overnight without starting a fire. I can't risk someone seeing the fire and coming to investigate. But I also can't let him or myself freeze to death. 

I pulled Din underneath the wing of the ship, so I could probably drape the tent fabric over the wing to make a temporary tent, right? I'm not the one who sets up the tent, so I don't even know how to set it up correctly anyway. But the large sheet of tent fabric could certainly insulate him well enough to keep him alive. I hope.

I climb out of the cockpit and toss the fabric over the wing. It's just long enough to reach the ground on both sides. Thank maker.

I hop down and crawl under the wing to investigate it from the inside. There are certainly still gaps in it, but it's better than nothing. It keeps the breeze out of here pretty well, at least. Then I drag my cloak inside and lay it over Din. I keep his head exposed, but do my best to cover him. My cloak is surely not big enough to cover all of him, but it's, again, better than nothing.

I hop back up into the cockpit and take my disgusting clothes off. I've never felt quite this dirty and grimy and dry and, just nasty. I use the inside of my soiled shirt to try to wipe my face and arms free of the mess. It's not very effective, but I instantly feel a little better. 

What I would give to be in that river on Teth right now.

I throw on some of the warmer clothes I have and hop down out of the ship once more. I crawl into the tent and lay down next to Din in the dirt. I throw a few pieces of food in my mouth and stare up into the underside of the ship. 

What the fuck just happened?

This was supposed to be an easy bounty. Get in, do the job, get out.

How did I mess it up this badly?

I force my eyes to remain open. I can't fall asleep. It doesn't matter how exhausted I feel. Din would do it for me if it was reversed.

"Please, Din."