Consequence of Oversight

Tano

Hazel moved through the streets of Mos Espa, unassuming, with her cloak drawn tightly around her. The city buzzed with its usual energy—merchants haggling, speeders kicking up dust, voices shouting over the din of the market.

She technically shouldn't be here. Her dad would kill her if he found out she had left the safety of their home. Especially after what had happened two years ago.

But Ben was at work, and she needed the supplies for her training and her self-established mission.

Her bag already held most of what she needed—extra wraps for her hands, a new whetstone for her vibroblade, and a small supply of dried rations she could stash away. She had to be careful with how she spent credits, but she had learned to stretch what little she had from the odd jobs she picked up around Mos Espa, without Ben's knowledge. Marcus was her main employer, the Force bless his soul.

Her heart thumped with anticipation.

Training in secret had become second nature to her. The days in the sun spent with Qui-gon, training in the Force, and the long nights practicing forms under the stars were the only parts of her days on Tatooine that felt free and unforced, unlike her interactions with Ben.

Aunt Bo would be proud that she kept up her combat training.

Still, she couldn't risk lingering. Lamor was still looking for her, and she wasn't ready to face him. She needed more time and a plan. And anyways, she had planned everything so she would be back before her dad returned from work, with no one the wiser.

At least, that had been the plan.

A strange unease prickled at the edge of her awareness.

She adjusted the strap of her bag and slowed her pace. The feeling wasn't quite fear-just the sense that something was... off. She knew better than to ignore it.

Casually, she veered down a less crowded street, glancing toward the alleys as she passed.

That's when she saw them. Two figures stood near a shaded alcove.

A man obscured by a baggy poncho was talking in hushed voices to a woman in a hooded cloak, standing with the ease of someone who knew how to handle herself.

The girl found herself inching closer, pressed by the Force to investigate further. She noticed the woman was a Togruta, with white and blue lekku and orange-tinted skin. She couldn't see anything else.

Her gaze shifted towards the other figure.

The man, on the other hand, felt familiar. Then she saw what he had hidden under his hideous poncho. Armor. Its dirty white surface peeked out from under the worn fabric, its dark blue markings sparking something in the young Mandalorian's memory. Hazel's breath caught.

A clone.

She turned sharply into a side street, forcing herself to keep steady, her pulse hammering against her ribs. Her fingers curled around the strap of her bag.

It's fine. You're fine.

She pushed away the dark memories of that fateful night. The armor that haunted her dreams became tangible with this lone clone's appearance. And the woman with him...Hazel could tell there was more to her than she realized.

The fourteen-year-old swallowed hard. Something about her presence sent a ripple through the Force, steady and strong.

A voice called from behind.

"Is there a reason you were spying on us?"

Hazel spun, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

The hooded woman had followed her, standing just a few feet away. The clone was behind her, watching Hazel with a careful, assessing gaze.