Having decided what his cover story would be, Cal worked up the nerve to head into the town. He had no idea what he would find. Would there still be clones around? If so, would they recognize him? He and his Master hadn't come to this part of the planet so it was unlikely that the locals would know who he was, though he couldn't be certain, but if any clones had been on the surface when the Albedo Brave was destroyed, they could still be there and would definitely recognize him. He sat in the rain a while longer, only partially shielded by a sharp rock overhang, watching the people move about but the downpour was so loud he couldn't hear any sounds or voices coming from the town and the comms device in his hand returned only static.
He never knew how long he sat there till he was finally convinced no clones were stationed in the town. At least, none that he could see. He wanted to take more time to be sure it was safe enough to venture out but the rain that had completely soaked through his clothes and the shivering had begun to take control of his limbs and his senses. If he didn't find better shelter soon he would risk succumbing to the elements. And he was getting hungry. He couldn't sit there forever, no more answers would come by standing still, so he resolved to move forward. He rose and pulled down the hood of the tattered cloak to obscure his face but as he did so his padawan braid, laden with rain water, whipped forward and landed heavily on his shoulder.
Cal had forgotten about his braid. He had worn it for so long he barely noticed it anymore. If anyone in the town knew anything about Jedi they would recognize it and know he was one. It would have to go. He had been so proud of his braid, so proud to be Master Jaro Tapal's apprentice. His Master had tried to teach him persistence, tried to teach not to be consumed by failure and adversity but Cal was alone now and his Master was gone. His ship was gone. The clones had turned on them and he had failed to save his Master.
Cal gripped the braid tightly, water squeezing out of it through his fingers, as the fresh, raw grief washed over him again. He crushed his eyes closed to hold back the pain that rose up in his chest and threatened to consume him. For a moment he felt he might collapse, fall to the ground, wailing and broken by the loss of his master, his ship, and his comrades but instead he bit down on his lip as hard as he could without actually drawing blood and the fire in his chest ebbed.
When he opened his eyes again he was staring down at his feet, the rain falling past and pummeling the ground around him. Each drop slammed into the surface of the rocks and exploded out in all directions, and he realized he was standing on a pile of flat, glossy shale fragments that had broken off from the rockface above. He reached down and picked up a particularly sharp piece and stared at it in his hand, the dim light of the moon shimmered off an edge as sharp as a knife. He took a long controlled breath then quickly brought it up to his head and sliced the braid away. The saturated hair fell to the ground with a soft thump. Cal stepped over it and did not look back.
