Little Wolf Pup

Chapter Four

Alzena sat alone in the bay window of her new rooms, watching the sun beginning to set on the horizon. They'd placed her in the visitor's section of the dormitory in the Jedi Temple, as she was awaiting the Council's judgement on what to do with her. Her rooms were minimalist but spacious, airy. There was a bed nearby, and also a meditation area. It was all very strange. Alzena had never lived in a place so spacious before, unless you counted when she slept alfresco with her Loth-wolves. It was all far too comfortable for her, far too expensive and indulgent. She didn't know what to do with such luxury as this.

Still, at least she'd been left alone to process everything. It still felt so incredibly new to her, but her mind had now quietly gone through everything that had happened to her since her hands had been set on fire. Now, she sat in calm silence, watching the speeders pass by beneath her window.

Her mind drifted back to the look on Obi-Wan's face when he'd walked her here. The distance in his blue eyes...he'd been laughing before. Alzena felt certain that Kadavo had broken him, but whether he wanted her to do something about it, she did not know.

With a sigh, she climbed off the window and set about playing around with the clay that Master Obi-Wan had brought her earlier. He had asked if she required anything that would help her settle in, and Alzena had requested some clay. She tore off a piece of it, rolling it around in her hands. Kix would have a fit if he knew she was using her hands so soon after treatment, but Alzena was determined to make something for every clone in the 501st battalion now. Nine thousand, two hundred and sixteen troops, according to Obi-Wan.

Well, then, Alzena thought, she'd better get modelling. If she ran out of clay, she could always make up a substitute of dirt and water, like with the figurine she'd given to Wolffe. From the look on Kix's face when she'd said she liked his name, it seemed identity was important to the clones.

And so, Alzena pulled three all-nighters, working on make-shift dog tags for the clones in the 501st. Each and every one of their names was carefully etched into the clay: their names, not their numbers. And, once that was done, she started painting them in dark blue, their names in black. Her muscles protested, her fingers starting to cramp, but Alzena was used to hard, continuous labour. This would be worth it.

It was a repetitive sort of motion, good for the mind, and eventually Alzena was creating these tags without having to put much thought to it. Her emotions quietened, the motions calming her mind as she began to settle into the rhythm. Clay really did help her feel more at ease with her surroundings.

When dawn lit up the sky on the third day, Alzena had finished varnishing her very last dog tag, so that it wouldn't break. Her hand muscles had stiffened up from so much work. Alzena clenched them into a fist, then loosened her grip, clenched, loosened again, feeling immensely proud of herself. By the end of the day, the dog tags would be ready to be given out to the clones. She had taken a few breaks, of course, otherwise there would have been no way her hands could have lasted so long.

Alzena stood from her window...and then fainted soon after.

Alzena felt the presence of the Dark Side for the first time in her short life. It whispered her name, teasing her mind to just try a little bit of the Dark. She could do anything she wanted, it murmured, so much power awaiting her, if she just reached out to the Dark. But Alzena had been denied too much freedom, too much power, to ever want for more. Why was the Dark Side reaching her when she was safe in the Jedi Temple?

A bad feeling settled over her. The clones...there was something more to the wars than just the Republic and the Separatists, wasn't there?

"Looks like sleep deprivation to me," she heard Kix's voice sound close by her ear. "I'll handle it, General." Who was he talking to? She cast her mind out through the Force, trying to sense the second presence. A calm, steady Force presence, although there seemed a hint of nervousness to this person's mood. Obi-Wan.