Luke Skywalker, the Last Jedi, faces his toughest challenge yet. To rebuild the Jedi Order, he must give up his personal hopes and dreams. Every move is critiqued by not only the New Republic Senate but also the Force-ghost Jedi Council of the past...
❷ "Tatooine Resolution"—Attack of the Clones Extended ST
⊘ Silence
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❶ Naluma smoothed out the creases in her gray service uniform, her hair bound in its square bun once more. She grabbed a sandwich from the galley and wandered onto the shuttle ramp.
Birds chattered at each other, perched in the trees surrounding the glade. A few brave ones circled the shuttle and squawked at the others.
The Padawan opened herself to the Force, just letting it flow through her while she nibbled on the ronto strip buttie Luke had left her. She salivated on the smoked sweet meat between two slices of bread.
A small bird with brilliant blue feathers hopped closer. A few of its friends followed a meter behind it.
She picked a speck of bread from the sandwich and tossed it toward the courageous contingency. The funny little bird ruffled its spiky crest at her before gobbling the crumb. When she tossed another chunk at her new friend, the others rushed forward, flapping their wings and chittering.
When they started yanking it away from each other, she grabbed it back and broke it up into smaller pieces. "There. Enough for each of you."
They looked up at her once more, their black eyes pleading.
A feeble cry stole her attention. She whipped her head above her to a tall tree. Its broad leaves wavered in the autumn chill, hues of bright red and gold clinging to the gnarled branches of the massive tree. She shaded her eyes with her hand to find the source of the plaintive whine.
The cry reached her again.
She closed her eyes and felt through the Force. "I hear you. Where are you, little one? Oh, my, yes, you're very high up."
The weak chirping transformed into an incessant, pained squeak.
All of a sudden, the bird tumbled from the nest. It flapped its right wing but held the left wing close to its body. After two more flaps, the bird spiraled out of control toward the ground.
Naluma reached out with the Force for it and steadied its descent. Slowly, she pulled the injured bird to the grass near her. "Sh, little one."
A feeble squawk was all it could manage.
She tossed a few hunks of bread far out into the meadow, shooing the rest of the band away from her patient.
"It'll be okay. Stay still." She held it immobile with the Force.
After a tiny rotation, she discovered the problem. Not just one bone, but the humerus, ulna, and radius all bent at acute angles.
