Freedom | A Mandalorian Fan Fiction

Chapter 1: A Bounty

She shivered in the cold night, pulling what thin clothes she had around herself tighter.  She hadn't thought about the cold nights in the desert, only of the sweltering hot days.

Sitting under a small ledge of rock she scoots closer to the fire, exhaustion settling into her tired body.

She had ran so far... she thinks to herself. Running for days without sleep, to afraid to stop.

The chills intensify and she scoots closer once more to the fire. Wincing as she moves, the pain in her side still hasn't subsided.

"At least if I freeze to death out here, it will be on my own terms. I'll die free," She mutters to herself, warming her hands close to the flame. "Either that or I'll bleed to death."

"Now we can't have either of those," a voice says suddenly.

She draws a small knife, jumping to her feet.

"Who's there?" She asks, glancing around but the light of the fire isn't enough to see more than her close surroundings.

Into the light steps a man in gleaming armor, his chest plate perfectly molded to his body and his head covered in a shining helmet.

She has seen these types of soldiers before, long ago. The name on the tip of her tongue but unable to place it.

She holds her small knife up at him, "What do you want?"

"I'm here to take you back."

"No," she shakes her head, "you can't take me back there."

"I can, and I will," he says gruffly, his voice modulated by his helmet.

"I won't let you!" She steps out slashing at him with her knife. She screams when a sudden searing pain shoots up her side.

"You bastard!" She crumples to her knees.

"I didn't touch you. You must have reopened that wound on your side," he says.

She groans in pain.

"How do you know it's me your after, bounty hunter?" She moves so she leans against the rocks, holding her side, residing herself to not trying to fight him off, at least for now.

"Puck, and a fob, but a visual conformation is required."

Her eyes widen. Shit, she thinks, this isn't good.

The two are silent for a few moments, sizing each other up.

An easy target, he thinks as he sits down on the opposite side of the fire.

The young woman watches him, her long brown hair hanging in locks over her eyes.

Maybe, she thinks to herself, he can be reasoned with.

"You can't take me back there," she says.

He shrugs, "I need to get paid, there's a hefty price on your head."

"Please," she begs, "Don't take me back."

"All my bounties beg, what's so different about you?"

"Because they are the ones that are bad, I just managed to escape," she says.

The man, who she has finally remembered the name for, Mandalorian, doesn't say a word.

"I'll give you anything," she reaches into her bag. "You want money? Take everything I have," she tosses him a small bag filled with coins.

He still doesn't move, just watched her silently.

"You want my body? It's nothing that hasn't been done to me before."

She stands, turning her back to him as she takes off the long, thin cloak she had been wearing.

The Mandalorian bites his lip under his helmet, stifling a gasp.

Her back is littered with scars, gleaming white from the light of the fire.

The Mandalorian stands, quickly making his way around the fire.

She wraps her arms around herself, trying to hold in her heat. The scraps of cloth she wears now barely cover her.

As the Mandalorian gets closer he sees something on her left shoulder blade, a burn, long scarred over.

She knows what he sees.

"Five years ago I was branded. I will forever wear the mark of my captors, an H for the Hutts."

She shivers, the cold starting to numb the pain in her side but the blood still drips down onto her once white cloak.

She turns around suddenly, The Mandalorian looking down at her ominously.

"Please don't take me back there. I have been hurt enough by them.  Please...." she pauses, her lips trembling, whether from pain or emotion, the Mandalorian cannot tell. "If you take me back there, I will kill myself."

"We can't go anywhere tonight anyway. We wait until dawn to travel," the Mandalorian says, forcing himself to step away from her.

Blood still leaks profusely from her wound.

"What is your name?" He asks.

"Number twenty-seven," she answers, starting to sway.

"No, your real name."

"Mairinah."

With that, her eyes flutter closed as pain and blood loss overcome her body.

The Mandalorian reaches one arm out catching the girl. He holds her light body in one arm as he ponders what to do while taking a closer look at the slash in her side.