#winterfang

20 BBY Coruscant, Lower Level

Zenden’s Droid Den, Scrapyard and Spares. Catchy name, if not a little lengthy. Zenden himself is a hulking spacer, half human and I think possibly half Zabarack. No horns, but his shaven head is a reddish tan. He’s muscled thick, dressed in a modest flight suit and waits for us outside the humble shop.

Us meaning me. The rest of my escort as General Nidor so tactfully referred to them, is lost somewhere in traffic. I haven’t bought myself much time, but it’s enough to prove I don’t need dead weight.

I enter the shop alone. We were given clear instructions to blend in, but I can tell by the pointed look Zenden himself is giving me, nothing about my face is blending in. I’m a clone plain and simple. Not many people have seen us without helmets, but that doesn’t mean they don’t know what lies underneath. Carbon copies, one after another.

The plainclothes doesn’t hide anything about my identity.

“Here about a droid?” Zenden lumbers forward. “Got your request.”

“Yes,” I cross my arms over my chest. “Is it here?”

“Well I’ve got a lot of that model, but your request said something with…grey markings?”

I nod.

Zenden side eyes me as he walks toward the crate I assume holds the captive droid. Why do we rely on those things anyway? It’s an R3 model according to intel. I know the information it holds is important, but droids are easy to lose, and easy to destroy. The Republic would be better off without them trundling all over the place getting into trouble like this.

“Say, what’s a republic clone want with an R3 droid with such specific markings? He special or something?”

“Need a replacement,” I say bluntly. “Wanted something that looked familiar.”

Zenden laughs. “That so?” He mulls it over, his hands lingering at his sides. Finally he squats down and opens up the crate. I half expected to see a bomb, maybe an IG-88 coiled up inside, or worse a BX.

It’s just a grey painted droid. R3, exactly like the model. In fact it is the droid I’m looking for.

Zenden turns and there’s the faintest click of a safety coming off. I look up into the business end of a holdout blaster.

“I know when I’m looking at something suspicious,” Zenden says, his brow furrowed dangerously over his keen eyes. “And you’re mighty suspicious, clone.”

I stare cooly at the blaster. “I came to buy a droid. What’s wrong with that?”

“A man wanting a replacement droid doesn’t care what it looks like, you can paint ‘em any color. Something tells me this droid is worth more than scrap. So why him?”

I can feel the eyes on the back of my neck. The commlink in my ear pings. They’ve caught up.

“Good in there, Kian?”

I look up at Zenden. “Fine,” I say. I hope my tone warns them off. Zendin lifts a brow, though, expecting me to continue.

He’s not the only one armed. The commlink pings again.

“We’re parked just outside. We have the place surrounded and we can move in at any time.”

I put my hand to the back of my hip and hope they can see it. I do not need help.

Forgot to post this yesterday, so sorry for the late update! Next preview coming 5/8!

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Daily affirmations boost morale!

It had been one hell of a day. You might have been doing your job regularly, but it felt empty without Lilypaw to help him. Winterfang couldn’t believe it had been a few days already since Lilypaw’s disappearance and he couldn’t help that she had passed from this world by either dogs, traps, humans, or worse, wolves.

Your worrying had kept up throughout the day, that is until the suns setting behind the trees and past the mountains. The territory was now dark the only shining light was the moon that shone its light onto the territory, illuminating it with such beautiful and safe light. 

You were staring at the spot where the leader of the swampclan cats had disappeared into, your muscles tense and your guard up high.

Cat after captured cat passed you, some were thinner than others and some had wounds. Falconstep had congratulated you on the act you had put up, you had acted as the spokescat of your clan to intimidate the rival clan. When all the missing clanmates had passed by you and the sound their steps where growing faint, you turned around to follow them. The clan was safe, for now.

As you caught up to your clan you could see the injured ones walking or leaning onto any from the rescue-group. You passed Thistleruff, gently rubbing against her before continuing up to your apprentice. You were so proud of him for making it this far and you gave him a lick on his ear. Further ahead you saw Smokie nearly carrying Winterfang and you rushed ahead.

“Winterfang!”

He had many wounds and seemed very tired. You stood in front of them, halting them.

“Smokie, let me handle him, you’re hurt.”

And with that, Smokie passed the white cat onto you, his weight made you stumble at first, but you managed to keep going forward.