The Survival of Two

Unrestrained

Osha snuck out of bed, silently replacing the covers and slipping into her shoes. She crept across the floor to retrieve her staff and hurried to the mouth of the cave, ducking out into the darkness.

She traveled down the beach to the path, thankful for the starlight that guided her way. Had the clouds been denser, she feared she would have gotten lost. She walked with conviction, though her mind was elsewhere. She hadn't been able to sleep, her head too filled with thoughts of her training. She knew in her heart that Qimir's words were true: she did struggle to imagine wielding a saber in any manner other than how she'd been taught as a child. But, she knew that finding her own way would be a personal journey; she needed to discover this before he could instruct her further. As these musings plagued her sleep, it became clear that she would need to make such discoveries before her mind would let her rest. As such, she wandered the beach in a haze and soon found herself in the center of the circle of stones. She closed her eyes and raised the staff, instinctively adjusting her body to the positioning Qimir had shown her. She lifted her chin and felt her spine elongate, shaking away the phantom sensation of his hands running along her back. Her eyes fluttered open, and she made her first move. She slashed downward, envisioning an invisible opponent. She let her momentum lead her, trying to heed Qimir's advice. As she wielded the staff, she felt her movements grow lithe and fluid. She breathed deeply, letting her mind abandon the rigid structures she'd previously forced herself to occupy. The Jedi had made their lessons formulaic—broad enough to apply to any youngling they needed to teach, and strict enough to maintain order. But she wasn't a child anymore; she didn't need to conform to their regimented thinking. The longer she practiced, the more she felt her old habits falling away.

Qimir opened his eyes to an empty cave. He stood from the thin cot, scanning the cave for signs of where Osha had gone. He crossed to her bed, noticing that her shoes and staff were gone. He felt for her presence in the Force, reaching out to find her. Visions of her came in waves: swirling motion, moonlit dew, racing heartbeats. Pulling on his shoes, he walked into the starry night.

Reaching the top of the hill, he stepped into the shadows behind one of the column stones. He peered out from behind it, watching as Osha whirled about. She was light on her feet, traveling with the staff as though it were a dance partner. She had already moved with self-assurance and strength—a product of her youth—but this was an expression of grace that Qimir hadn't seen from her before. He watched the small adjustments she made to her posture as she continued in her flurry of activity—straightening her back or raising her elbow—never stopping, but rather, evolving her form as she moved. Where before her strikes had been stunted, they now cascaded in ceaseless motion like the waves he had often caught her sneaking out to watch. And like the waves, her power flowed freely forth—unrestrained and captivating. His lips blossomed into a smile as he retreated back down the hill; he did not wish to intrude more than he already had. When he finally settled back into his blankets, he could not help but think of what lay ahead of him the following morning. He breathed deeply, trying to steady his heartbeat, which swelled in anticipation of a new day of training. Of facing her again.