War is not meant for children. 

That doesn’t mean it isn't fought by them. When they are the only ones willing to stand against the senseless slaughter and argue for peace. When the children are the only ones that answer the call to end the war that’s silenced them for centuries.

They can’t call for aid, can’t pay for hired guns or supplies or even shelter. 

But the Jedi come and there is hope, and then the Jedi leave again and they are left with a thin boy without the weapon he has learned to use all his life and nothing but a vibroblade to substitute it.

Neild thinks they’ve lost then. Cerasi argues that so long as they breath they can’t be lost. Obi-wan Kenobi smiles with oddly sharp teeth and tells them that sometimes all there is left is hope. And the determination for change.

Runil, the little medic tells them that they can’t lose him with wide eyed wonder and three living breathing children that should be long dead in the ditch they found them in. She tells them that he is the miracle worker they’ve needed with that desperate hope they’ve barely kept alive. 

(The oldest is 10, probably older than Runil herself, Obi-wan won’t explain what he did to save her though she watched him lay a hand on her chest as she choked on blood and quite sobs. Runil is the daughter of two doctors long lost to the war and even she isn’t certain it’s something she could even understand.)

None of them know what to make of the figure he cut’s on the battlefield. Half as tall as any of their enemies and yet the blaster weighs heavy in thin hands and never misses a shot. Neild sees the way he moves, sees the way the world moves with him. Dust and stones hanging in the air around him as he darts for his target with an efficiency Neild can’t begin to understand.

He see’s the way Obi-wan’s head snaps to the side and his hand rises, pulling thin air and jerking Locc off his feet from half the field away as the ground beneath him explodes. The younger boy should be dead, not shaking and bleeding from a dozen cuts. Obi-wan seems to disagree, a snarl on his face as he pulls the boy to him and raises a hand. A dozen mines explode across the field and Neild thinks maybe he was wrong.