The wild planet of Kashyyyk is known to be home to the gentle, but short-tempered race of Wookiees. Wild and untamed, the lush, wroshyr tree-filled forests form a multi-layered deathtrap. The local wildlife presenting more dangers as one descends towards the forest floor. However, as one ascends the vertical environment, the danger of falling increases until one comes in contact with the Wookiee settlements. Fauna and flora flourish in delight, growing within dirt pockets in the crevices of the trees. Some of these plants are carnivorous, becoming larger and deadlier closer to the forest floor. Others have some form of consciousness, able to communicate with the Wookiees to give some understanding of their use.

In one particular forest, you have traversed the vertical nightmare from Wookiee settlements and into the unknown to become lost within the canopies. Within the crevices in the trees, empty fruit and rotting shells from seeds show the spring season has ended. A soft wind whistles between the thick vines and shrubs that stick to the trunks of the ancient and sleeping giants. Despite the near-ending lack of footholds aside from the branches of wroshyr trees, you have found a series of abandoned and rotting platforms suspended a hundred meters above the surface, once home to a Wookiee settlement. Overgrown and decayed, it has since nourished countless plants and trees with their outstretched branches sheltering the dense and soft floor from the extreme sun rays and torrential rain. Upon closer inspection your eyes can pick up unusual signals. Moss carpets particular areas on the platforms and nowhere else, tree-dwelling animals and birds never land on the surface. In the corner of your eye you see something swaying, at first thought appearing to be another species of vine. But when you turn your head fully, you clearly see it is rope, damp but tightly locked. You feel that you have entered an arena without invitation, and the motivation to search further intrigues your mind. Tread carefully, or you will fall whim to the creatures that inhabit this terrain.

Thu-thud thud-thud, thu-thu-thud thud, thud-thu thu-thud…

They crashed through the foliage. His legs screamed in agony even with the Force to invigorate his muscles. His breath came in harsh, shallow gasps that burned his throat like paint-thinning bathtub gin on its way back up. If it wasn’t for the sweaty, crushing grip of his Consul’s hand on his, more or less dragging his hide along mercilessly behind her, he would’ve happily curled up and died twenty twisting sets of stairs and swaying bridges ago.

Then again, them fluffballs weren’t eh, very pleased. Probably would’ve been unpleasant to get more acquainted, mused Kordath’s exhaustion-numb brain as his eyes drifted from the woman in front of him — he was too tired to enjoy the view anyway — to the very steep drop to his left. Then again...there’s always the quick way…

No sooner had the thought formed at the end of his synapses then his foot caught one of the many stray, freakishly thick vines, and he felt gravity’s sick and insistent claws sink in. The Seer’s grip on him, an opposite but equally demanding force, yanked his arm near out of its socket before he could kiss the moss-covered planks.

“Come...on...Bleu!” Atyiru panted as she hauled him back upright. “We...have to...keep going.”

“H-haven’t...we...co-come far...enough?” wheezed the Ryn.

“You...can sense them...as well as I can,” the Miraluka spat back. “Just a...little further, to be safe...then we’ll rest…”

“But—”

Her snarling face came so close to his that their noses brushed. “Gods help me, Rat, I will make you wish the Wookiees had ripped you to pieces and torn you apart limb from limb. Shut up and move.”

Kordath really couldn’t feel his feet anymore but he started climbing again anyway.

The world went back to being a painfully sober blur of moving his legs and dodging leaves, branches, and various mushrooms that he suspected had teeth. At one point Atyiru grabbed onto him again when he got too slow for her womanly liking, towing him further up into the canopies that he was fairly sure were going to be the scene of his murder.

And then she just stopped.

The Ryn went stumbling headlong into her, and the pair met the spongy, overgrown platform beneath them in a tangle of limbs. He scrambled to push himself to his knees and get his hands off of the unfortunate places they’d landed before they got broken.

Kordath held his breath as Atyiru very slowly lifted her head, spitting a mouthful of grime and greenery. Equally slowly, she turned her face his way, as if ‘staring’ at him. Or through him.

“Eh, sorry,” he mumbled, wobbling to his feet on legs like water and extending a hand to her with a polite cough.

The silent Miraluka took it, standing and brushing herself off, bright green stains on the palms and knees of her white attire. Kordath mentally slapped himself, looking around instead of at his friend. They’d come to another platform, this one shady and cool, with branches, bunches of vines, and other vegetation creating a sweeping roof overhead. The bark under his boots creaked unnervingly, and the air was thick with the smells of fresh dank, forest musk, and rotting wood.

Besides the chattering of various insects and animals that could probably eat him whole, it was quiet up here. No bellowing, angry carpet-monsters after his skin.

As if reading his mind — which, for all he knew, she was — Atyiru gave a scoff and began picking flowery bits out of her hair. “You had to tick off the Wookiees, didn’t you? You just haaaaad to. Why do I even bring you on these diplomatic visits? Ashla and Bogan...”

“Oi, now, I wasn’ tryin’ to offend nobody—”

“How in the Galaxy is asking the matriarch if she ‘really has six knockers under that robe’ inoffensive?”

“...it’s, eh...cultural sharing? Learn about our different peoples and all that fancy jizz music.”

“Oh, my Gods.”

“Easy, Blinky,” said the Ryn placatingly, raising his hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture. “We can just call the transport and come back in, eh, a couple years when they’ve calmed down, forgotten this whole business. Lookie, I’ll even foot the bill to buy ‘em a round, bit o’ butterin’ up.”

She put her hands on her hips and scrunched her eyebrows at him.

Oh, kark me, Kordath thought, knowing by now exactly what that stance meant. He was very close to getting smacked, if he couldn’t get her all laughing or friendly-like real quick.

“Look at it this way, lady: since me publisher’s riding me tail again, it’s like fact-checking for me BlindChicks books, heh, ‘cept this time I’m the one gettin’ uh...um, chased.”

Atyiru scoffed, “Please, there were only five Wookiees chasing us. Jin had six feral ones, and they caught her.”

Kordath blinked. Twice.

The Miraluka’s expression went from condescending to horrified in three seconds flat. She clapped a hand over her mouth. The Ryn blinked some more.

And then he started to laugh.

“S-so tha-that’s why I’ve been selling at least one audio version on the preorder every edition, e-eh?” chuckled the Savant. “Oh, I’ve got to tell Uji ‘bout this.”

“I...it...i—it’s...it’s for...I'm keeping tabs on your damned slandering, Bleu!"

"Didja like the 'authentic ambient sounds' in this one?"

“Eh, Jin’s voice actor is a little overly dramatic if you know what I mea—” she cut herself off again and cursed, “Dammit!”

Kordath doubled over as he snickered breathlessly.

“Shut up, Bleu!” the woman growled, her tan cheeks turning red under that blindfold.

“H-hey,” wheezed the Ryn, thinking to himself that if he died now, at least it’d be funny. “C’mon Blinky, all this time a-and you’ve been a BlindChicks fan? Was you the one forking over extra for the autographed copies?”

He really wasn’t surprised, for once, when she gave another furious shriek, pulled out a blaster, and started shooting at his head. He ducked around veridian bolts and did the only thing he could think of: closed the few inches between them, struck out a flat-palmed hand, and knocked the pistol out of her fingers. It went sailing out into open air and disappeared from view.

For half a heartbeat, there was a pause, the acrid smell of superheated plasma still hanging on the air. Atyiru’s empty hand, still held in front of her, curled slowly into a fist. Her teeth pulled back in a snarl.

“I’ll buy ya a new one?” Kordath offered, cracking a grin. “You can save your creds for the new series?”

She swung for his face.

=x=

The Ryn gave an eep and twisted away with all the grace of a drunken monkey-lizard, stumbling back the way they’d come, towards the edge of that platform. Atyiru took two steps after him, catching him by the collar of his long robes and leaning him over the precipice.

“Or you could go fetch that DL-18 personally,” hissed the Miraluka. “I’ll even help you in getting back down.”

“Or, or, and hear me, heh, out here,” said the author. “Or, I can give you all me original writin’. First n’ second drafts, notes, unedited editions, everything. I’ll even sign ‘em.”

Atyiru paused, furious expression relaxing as her brows furrowed. She bit her lip as her heart fluttered in her chest.

Original copies…

Something thin but strong wrapped around her left ankle and pulled.

The Miraluka yelped as the ground disappeared beneath her feet and the back of her skull met the plant-cushioned deck. Above her, Kordath wobbled, arms pinwheeling as he found his balance and half-fell forward. He scurried past her, further onto the wroshyr platform and further from possible death by splattering. Atyiru sat up and twisted around, balled fists slamming indignantly into the wood she knelt on.

“Did you just trip me with your bloody karking tail?!”

The Ryn bobbed in a simple stage bow. “That, heh, will be the start of me next novella. Tripping...and such.”

She felt her whole face burn, heat crawling up from her chest to her ears and making it a little hard to breathe. She wanted to vomit or find a rock to crawl under.

Instead, Atyiru plucked her second blaster from her belt, pointed it up at the other Jedi, and loosed a salvo of emerald fire.

Kordath hit the wooden platform like a sack of fruit and began rolling sideways as the blaster fire peppered the surface, leaving small smoking pits. The Ryn was thankful that the blind woman was a poodoo shot when she was enraged. Trying not to reflect on how a girl with no eyes was a far better shot than he ever would be, he scrambled to find some kind of cover. Dilapidated old Wookiee huts, built into the mighty wroshyr trees themselves presented some small comfort. Until he recalled how dry everything here seemed.

I duck into one of those things, her bloody shootin’ will set it on fire!

The Ryn decided to shift gears on his strategy. With a push off the platform, he sprinted towards a low hanging vine. Grabbing and jumping, he began to swing in a wild arc, screaming as he swung out over the edge of the old deck and seeing just how far up he really was. Suddenly, this didn’t strike Bleu as being such a great idea, especially when he looked over to see the Miraluka tracking him with her blaster in an outstretched hand. With a silent prayer to the gods, he let go of the vine just moments before green bolts of superheated energy came flashing towards it. He hit the ground with a thud and a roll, pulling his sash free from around his midsection. The short flight had brought him back to within about a dozen feet of his Consul.

“Atty, luv, let’s calm down eh?” he shouted above the sound of blaster fire, holding one hand up in a placating manner. She turned the weapon towards him again, a feral grin tugging at the edges of her lips, causing the Ryn to swallow nervously. He reached out with his mind as well, doing his best to conjure up the sounds of rampaging Wookiee’s in the forest nearby. Atty’s head cocked a little to her left, before turning this way and that as she sought the source of the noise before turning back to give the Ryn an eyeless glare. Kord smiled as he released the auditory illusions; they’d served their purpose and allowed him to close some distance without getting shot.

Whipping his arm forward, he snapped the sash in a whip like fashion and managed to catch the Miraluka’s blaster wielding arm at the wrist. Twisting and pulling, he jerked the woman into him, pushing the blaster hand down and spinning her to pin her both arms to her body with the material.

“Ya keep firin’ the bleedin’ guns and the big angry fluffballs are gonna hear us, eh? Now comeon, I’m sorry, I was havin’ a bit of fun, that’s all luv.”

The Ryn tried to ignore the feeling of having his friend literally wrapped up and pushed against him. He wasn’t doing a great job of this, it was distracting. She glowered at him in a way only the eyeless could, eyebrows knitted and drawn in by anger. He felt her relax a little, her facial features smoothing out before a little smile started to grow. That should have been his first sign, as she suddenly leaned in and bit him on the neck. Kordath yelped and grabbed the woman by her long hair, jerking her head back. Heat radiated from his throat, and the man was almost certain he was bleeding.

“Was that bloody necessary!?”

She grinned at him and wriggled in the confines of the sash, causing the Ryn to feel a redness rising in his cheeks.

“You seem tense, Bleuboy.”

“Don’t bleeding play me, woman,’ he growled. Kordath was at a complete loss, he’d managed to wrap the crazed madwoman up and now hadn’t a clue as to what to do with her. “Look, I already offered the first editions, I’m not gonna take that back, eh?”

He felt her stop moving against him, growing still as if in thought.

“But I cannae give ‘em to ya if you go and shoot me luv, or get me caught by the Wooks, eh?”

A thump was heard below the Ryn, a glance down showed the Miraluka had dropped her pistol. With a sigh of relief, and a strange sense of reluctance, he loosened his grip on the sash and let it fall from around the lithe woman. A booted foot slammed down upon his own toes, causing the Ryn to hop in place.

“That was for the hair pulling,’ she said sweetly as she stopped to gather up the dark material of his sash. “The sash bit was clever though, I wondered why you always wear this ridiculous thing. Makes me wonder about those girls I’ve helped you pick up at the bars back on Selen.”

“Funny, karking funny," he snarled, snatching the sash away from her and looking around. “Now, hows about we get the ‘ell off this dirtball before the big meaty and hairy ones find us, eh?”

“Aww, you don’t want to keep playing, Bleuy?” She plucked at the fabric of his robes around his narrow chest. Kordath narrowed his eyes and stared at her mischievous smile.

Kark me she really is going to kill me this time, innit she?

He gently reached up and removed her hand, spotting the little pout on her face as he did so. A few quick steps back, that was the key he figured. Except she stayed right with him, lips set in a little pout, lower lip quivering. Kordath took another step back, feeling a panic rising in him. He was more used to her shooting at him, or joking it off by this point after he’d try some badly worded drunken flirting. Usually his friend didn’t push his buttons this hard, they both knew nothing ever came of it. Another quick step back and he felt his boot touch nothing, suddenly flailing to keep his balance as his body tried to fall over the abyss.

“No no no no..” he started to mutter, eyes wide in terror as he fell backwards. One of Atyiru’s slender hands reached out to grab him, falling on the sash which he’d simply hung over one shoulder. He watched as it left him, still clutched in the woman’s hand as he fell backwards. Closing his eyes he let out a little whimper, and prepared himself for the coming end.

-x-

Laughter, the first thing he heard after the jolting sensation of his fall stopping was the melodious and rich laughter of the Miraluka. Opening one eye with caution, the Ryn found himself hanging inside a criss cross of vines, limbs splayed through the natural net. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and started to laugh himself, before feeling the whole affair shift around him. Kordath froze, afraid that moving would shake him loose and send him plummeting downwards again.

“Look a bit stuck, Fluffy," came the Consul’s voice, after she quit laughing at him. He could see her smiling from the edge of the platform above.

“You ever want the next bloody book to come out, you’ll get me out of this! No ‘Jin and the Spice Pirates of Kessel’ for ya!”

A deafening silence answered him.

Kordath had never backtracked so fast in his life — and that had been a lot of times, mind.

“I-I-I m-mean, uh, not that, luv, not that, just Jin and the pirates of...of the lady’s showers, or no pirates at all, just ladies, and uh, please don’t kill me I’m sorry?”

Silence.

“Atty? C’mon, luv.”

He squinted, watching as her face, frozen in the most disconcerting smile he’d ever seen, disappeared back over the edge of the platform.

Oh, kark, is she gonna leave me here…?

He couldn’t be that lucky, could he?

The Ryn heard footsteps, retreating softly, pausing, then growing louder as they moved back his way. The vines he was wrapped in creaked unnervingly as he tipped his head back a little further, looking up. Atyiru stood there, the tips of her white boots poking over the lip of the platform, a rather nice view afforded him all and all, aside from the blaster leveled at him.

Yeah, he was never that lucky.

Kordath clenched his eyes shut and gave a tiny yelp, expecting to feel lots of burning little holes appear in his poor, squishy person — but nothing happened.

He dared to open one eye, then the other. The Consul had holstered her blaster, removing her lightsaber and activating it instead. The Ryn wondered if she would try to throw the karking thing at him...which he wouldn’t put past her.

“...Atty?” he piped up, voice squeaking in his throat a bit. He coughed, and the vines groaned again in response, freezing his breath in his chest.

The Miraluka didn’t answer him, instead grabbing her thick, floor-length braid in one hand. With the other, she lifted her lightsaber high and, with a tiny, mournful sound almost like a sob, sliced clean through the rope of hair at an angle. Kordath sneezed as the stench of burnt hair hit his sensitive, beaky nostrils.

“The hell you doin’, woman?” demanded the Ryn, though he still got no answer. Like always, she was ignoring him, and yet, like always, seemed to expect him to know what she was thinking or why she was upset with him this time.

Bloody wemens.

“Shut the frak up before I leave you to die, Bleu,” Atyiru snapped, tucking away her saber and moving to tie off the loose end of her sheared length of hair, tiny white ringlets curling around her cute ears and puffing up all frizzy.

Sighing and trying to move as little as possible otherwise, Kordath watched her work. Once the rope of silver hair was nice and knotted off, she pulled his balled-up sash into her lap and started tying one end of it to the improvised extension.

Kordath swallowed. Is it too much to hope she’s doing what I think she’s doing…? he wondered.

Once done, the Miraluka gave her creation a couple sharp tugs, even drawing on the Force, if the way his senses tingled was any indication. Seemingly satisfied, she stood again, looped the other end of his sash around a sturdy branch in a good sailor’s knot.

Then, she flung the whole bundle off the platform.

The sash-and-braid-rope tumbled and fluttered down, smacking him lightly in the face, just long enough to reach with an inch or two to spare.

“I’m not climbing down to get you. Grab on and haul your own damned butt up.”

“Yes ma’am,” Kordath replied, reaching out and grasping the smooth silver braid with a grimace and another yelp. To his relief, he found she’d tied more knots in its length. How...creepy and sweet.

Holding onto his line for dear life, the Ryn precariously pulled himself up, finding wobbling, shifting footing on the vines that slipped under his feet. Gasping, he scrambled up, arm over shaking arm, scrambling to wrap his ankles around the rope. He clawed his way miserably up, relieved when he reached for sash instead of hair and focusing very thoroughly on not looking down. Or up, for that matter. Up might get him shot anyway.

Straining as his arms burned, the Ryn gasped in the Force to help himself the last few feet. Pain from exertion and relief alike coursing through his body as he felt hands clamp around the shoulders of his jacket, hauling him up onto the platform in a combined effort of flopping limbs and grunts.

Kordath hit the deck and sucked in a few lungfuls of air. His arms and legs felt like noodles at this point, but he flung one over his eyes anyway, hearing his friend shift next to him.

“Th...thanks, luv,” he managed a moment later.

“Oh, don’t thank me yet,” came her way-too-cheery reply.

Ice shot through the Ryn’s insides, replacing every trace of grateful happiness.

Oh no—

Slim fingers fisted in his robes and dragged him upright, yanking him nose-to-nose with the angry Miraluka. “I just wanted to throw you off myself,” she whispered nearly against his mouth.

And then she pushed him right off the ledge.

Kordath shrieked as he plummeted, feeling his body impact the vines that had saved him the first time, lashing him as they snapped. His stomach gave a sick lurch, embedding itself in his throat and cutting off his continued scream as he fell—

His head connected with something solid and, if the thunking sound was any indication, wooden. His shoulders and other limbs shortly followed. Agony lanced up through his whole spine as his tail crunched awkwardly underneath him.

Pain and blackness fogged his head, adrenaline the only thing keeping him awake. He pushed himself to his hands and knees, whimpering, screwing his eyes up against the spots that danced in them. He looked up, nausea swirling through his skull and stomach, and spotted Atyiru on the platform they’d been on, not terribly far above the one where he’d landed. He thought, dizzily, that he might have seen her give a smile.

And then, of course, then she was shooting at him, plasma bolts flying straight at him and his poor tail.

With an internal sigh and an external yelp the Ryn rolled up to his feet and began an awkward half run. Blaster bolts peppered the platform around him as he sought a path that would take him under the elevated surface his Consul was presently firing on him from. All he could spot were some thick, twisted branches that had grown between the trees, causing him to groan in realization. With a glance upwards towards Atyiru, he noted she’d paused to swap out power packs for her blaster, Bleu closed his eyes and stumbled onto the limbs. Trusting in his memory and the Force itself to guide his steps, images flashing through his mind of a twisted and broken Ryn lying at the bottom of the forest, he whimpered and pushed on. The crack of a blaster firing, and the smell of smoke, told him Atty had gone back to taking pot shots at him.

Either she was further away than he’d realized, or she wasn’t trying too terribly hard to kill him today. He reflected, briefly, that this sort of thing used to be a game to them. To some extent, anyways. He’d tick her off somehow or another, she’d chase him while yelling various threats having to do with turning his tail into a belt and his hide into boots, until he’d get her laughing again somehow. Then it was off to the pub for drinks, laughter, and trying to pick up girls. His foot hit something, knocking him out of his reverie.

Slowly opening one eye, Kordath found himself against a tree trunk, which seemed wide and solid. He breathed a sigh of relief and leaned his forehead against it, inhaling deeply. With a look to his left, then his right, he spotted handholds cut into the trunk, though the spacing was…

“Ah. Right. Wookiees.”

Kordath winced as he started to pull himself up, the base of his tail was throbbing angrily at him. Every time he pulled one of his legs up to push himself further along it shot pain up his entire back. By the time he reached the platform above, poking his head and then his elbows out and onto the surface, he was near tears. The white, gold and blue boots that he found himself staring at didn’t help too much, nor the dark muzzle pointed at his face. Eyes tracing up the slim, tan calves to the the nearly manic smile and blindfold, Kord sighed and fought back his tears.

“Anything to say, Bleuboy?” Her finger was on the firing stud, and he swore it was tightening up.

“Umm,” he started, mind racing as he took in the image of fury and femininity before him. He’d been here before, he was certain of it, and knew he could talk his way out of this if he could just-- “Short hair actually suits you really well, luv.”

Where the hells did that come from? he thought, staring ahead in surprise. Atyiru gave her head a quick shake, her eyebrows going from ‘kill mode’ to ‘what?’ in seconds flat. Bleu long ago learned to interpret that as the Miraluka equivalent of blinking in surprise. She started to shake, laughter starting at her core and moving up as she lowered the blaster, Kord felt himself breath a little easier. With a grunt he pulled himself the rest of the way onto the platform and rested his head on his arms, shaking.

“Ah, hahaha, that’s why I brought you along, isn’t it,” said the woman, holstering the blaster and kneeling next to the Ryn. One of her hands traveled down to the base of his tail, gently touching the inflamed area. Kordath cried out in pain.

“Bloody hells! Woman! Why!? Don’t bloody touch it!”

“Oh get over it, you big baby. You know, I missed these games, ever since I had to take over for the Hapan. Took the throne, had to put you in charge of a ship, we never get to spend time together anymore. That’s why I brought you along, I suppose,” she said quietly, before firmly grabbing the Ryn’s tail. She jerked it straight upwards, causing Kordath to scream in a manner most reminiscent of surprised school girls, before the joint at the base of his tail popped loudly.

Bleu lay shaking, whimpering as the pain faded and he twitched his tail a few times, to insure he could still move it about.

“Ow.”

“Comeon,” said Atty, smiling as she ruffled the Ryn’s hair. “One of the rendezvous for the ship is only about two kilometers north of here.”

“One of?” asked Kordath, slowly getting to his feet. “And what’d ya do ta me tail?”

“Of course we set up more than one, at least we did after I decided to bring you along. I knew you’d manage to either kark me off, or the Wookiees. I didn’t expect you to do both, but I guess we’re making up for lost time,” she said, wrapping a hand around one of his arms as they began to walk. Kordath still looked confused, he was usually lost when she pulled a complete one eighty on the attitude, and he was sure she took delight in that. “I miss our little chases, I honestly believe it lets me blow off some steam.”

“I know better ways ta do that, luv,” grinned the Ryn, trying to find his footing in this conversation and defaulting to lechery. “Now, again, me tail?”

“You dislocated it when you fell.”

“Fell? Ya mean when--”

“When. You. Fell.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good, now be careful, the joint will be sore for a while,” she began, taking on her lecturing doctor tone, “so don’t swing it about too much or--!”

Kordath froze mid-step as the MIraluka’s grip on his arm tightened to the point of pain.

“I, uhh, I dinnae mean to do that, just checkin’ me range of motion and-”

“And that meant slapping me on the arse with it?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“I did say sorry.”

“You really want me to pull the blaster back out again, don’t you?”

“Whoa! Wait! So ya know what happened at the end of tha last book, to the ship?”

“What, the Mystic Savant?”

“Aye, stupid bloody name, I know. Me publisher won’t bloody change it though, even in tha reprints. Thought it was a good joke, I guess. So, it got blown up but good, end of that last chapter, eh?”

“Yes…” Atty couldn’t help but wonder where he was going with this.

“How’s about, you name their new ship for me, eh? Was gonna do a write in contest thing, free book, promotionals, all this stuff to get up hype for the next book, yeah? Bugger that, you come up with a name before we get back to Selen, I’ll use it!”

Atyiru smiled as they walked along. What a productive day.