Hunted

XXXI. The Request

"Hold still," Reha scolded, her furtive eyes deep in concentration as she made the final snips, "Almost finished."

Serela kept her head bent down as her mother tried to salvage what she could of her hair. Most had been chopped so unevenly that they'd had to cut it all to the shortest length Hux had left, which was around her shoulders. Even there random pieces were left with jagged cuts and haphazard angles, but when she finally looked in the bathroom mirror at her mother's final project, it was a monumental improvement on what it had been when she arrived.

"It'll grow back," Reha promised, smoothing the strands and squeezing Serela's shoulder for comfort. She couldn't remember seeing her daughter with hair this short since she was a young child, and it was a strange sensation for her. The women on this planet all wore their hair differently from one another, Leia one way, Dr. Kalonia another, that young girl about Serela's age even wore hers in a series of three buns. When she had asked Serela how she wanted to style her hair after the cut was finished she had mumbled something about leaving it alone, opting to wear it down naturally where it just brushed her shoulders. In time when it was longer Serela said she might like it braided again, but until that happened she would wear it as close to how it had been on Takodana as possible.

The morning after her first council meeting Reha and Serela had discussed where they would stay and decided on an area where Reha had been living temporarily until they informed her of Serela's impending rescue. Then she had moved into the barracks on base, she said, but always with the hope that after arriving Serela would want to reside with her there.

Leia had not been thrilled at the choice, but true to her word, she made her opinion on the safety outside of the base known and then said no more about it.

Their new place of residence was more of an encampment no more than a 10 minute walk from the base. It was accessible through a narrow dirt path, and Serela was delighted to see it was laid out amongst the trees, their dense cover and foliage reminding her of home on Takodana.

The natives here were similar to home too, though their structures were more primitive and closer together. Instead of houses or cottages most everyone resided in elaborately makeshift tents. Many were incredibly detailed while others were more simple, ranging from a basic A-frame to ones with multiple rooms. One common denominator was that all were decorated in a patchwork quilt of colors, the fabric of the tents made from leftover cloths from anywhere they could find, ranging from old base uniforms to worn out Resistance flags. Everywhere she went the air smelled of green plants and clear skies, and at all times there was the light breeze which rustled through the camp, cooling its inhabitants and lightly jostling the hundreds of miscellaneous wind chimes that seemed to hang from every tree, their delicate strings dangling a myriad assortment of wood, glass and shells.

Serela had only needed a few moments here to realise why her mother had chosen it over the relative safety of the base; here felt familiar, here felt like home.

It was easy to move her in since she had nothing with her except for the clothes she'd been issued upon arriving as well as a few extra tunics and pairs of trousers. Reha promised that there was a woman in the camp who sold fabric, and that she would trade some of the mushrooms she collected early in the mornings in order to make Serela another dress; one with more allowance for her expanding belly.

The baby was more active now. It seemed the happier and more at ease his mother felt, the more comfortable he was to list from side to side in her womb, making his presence known.

She had worried Reha might resent the baby, maybe blaming him for his mother's mistakes and all the misfortune that had befallen them since his conception. All her worrying was in vain though, because everyday Reha would greet the baby inside her daughter as if he were already here in her arms. She talked to him, cooing and coming up with nicknames in lieu of Serela deciding on a real one yet. Her calloused hands would lightly rub Serela's stomach and rest her cheek against it, humming old lullabies she had forgotten she knew.