After a two-day absence, the Exile II returned to it island berth. Osha waited impatiently for the Stranger on the docks, risking the high waves along the causeway. A coastal storm loomed and had made the berm treacherous as twelve-meter waves crashed over the rocks. When he disembarked, Osha had no words of protest or condemnation, she just ran into his arms, forcing him back a step to get his balance.
The Stranger smiled. "You're soaked!" he shouted above the squall. Removing his cloak, he threw it over her shoulders.
Osha clung to it and him for warmth, but he was the one shaking. "Master? What's wrong?"
The Stranger sank to his knees, his eyes closed to hide the true extent of his suffering. He pressed his face against her stomach as he fought to breathe.
"You're burning up." Osha ran her hands across his pale cheeks and through his slicked hair. There was a tinged, red ring about his haunted eyes and his skin was on fire with a raging fever. He was a skilled healer, but even a day in hyperspace had not made a difference in his recovery. "What was so important that you risked your life against so many?"
His hubris answered with a resigned snort. "Trust me. It was worth it, Osha, and I'd do it again. For you." He swayed unsteadily in her arms.
Osha caressed his face. She loved his arrogance, which was often a shield for how truly vulnerable he was, despite his mastery of the Force. Her fingers traced his sculpted jawline and then the thin mustache above his full lips. She wanted to kiss him, but this was not the time.
"Come on," she whispered, "let's get you out of this storm."
YOU ARE READING
A Mother's Touch
Science FictionA Mother's Touch? The impact is undeniable. But without her mother, Osha Aniseya is adrift and lost. Days after killing the Jedi Sol, her former Master, in an unbridled rage, Osha struggles to train in the aftermath of a sixteen-year murder coverup...
