Ask Plot The Ranger and the Mandalorian

Song Wren

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Song Wren cruised across the wasteland sands.

Aboard her speeder, Kanan sat directly behind her, face forward or back-to-back, she didn’t care. It was already ironic enough that she, the woman, was the driver and he, the veteran Ranger, clung to the backseat. In most cases, it was the other way around.

But Song was more than just a woman. She was a Mandalorian.

On the horizon, the ruins of an old Star Destroyer protruded out of the ground. Likely one of the hundreds destroyed across the galaxy after the defeat of a re-emerged Palpatine. Its destruction had no doubt gave birth to the outpost they had just left, stripped for parts to build the very homes and ships the local inhabitants now used.

Creation from destruction, life from death.

Song didn’t get too deep into thought about it, especially as she spotted the canyons ahead. According to the coordinates she was given, Duermo was somewhere perched in there, believing he was safe from all harm.

With her and Kanan’s arrival, that was about to change.

Accelerating forward with a jump, the turbulence likely to shake Kanan up, Song grinned back at him and said, “We’re almost there. You ready?

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The speeder swept across the sand covered plains, kicking up sand in its wake. Kanan was thankful for the Mandalorian who sat in front of him as the Mandalorian’s armor took the brunt of any sand that was thrown up.​

There was a beauty to these wastelands, Kanan thought. A wild, untamed beauty that appealed to those who enjoyed delving into the unknown and enjoyed solitude.​

The ruins of a Star Destroyer in the distance stood as a sobering reminder that even out here in the wilds, with no sign of life in sight, violence and killing were able to taint. Violence and killing always found a way.​
Redirecting his attention to the canyons drawing closer, he focused his thoughts. Duermo was close. He deserved to pay. That would be enjoyable. The speeder jolted forward unexpectedly with a newfound speed, its driver assumedly anxious to reach his quarry. Instinctively, and without thinking, Kanan reached forward and grabbed ahold of River to steady himself as the jolt of the speeder shook him in his seat.​

Recovering, he realized himself and immediately released the Mandalorian’s waste, surprisingly smaller than he would have thought considering the man’s build and armor. That had not been one of Kanan’s most masculine moments, nor one of his proudest. Returning his hands to the sides of the speeder, Kanan decidedly cast his gaze toward the canyons. “More than ready,“ he replied confidently. “So what’s the plan? Do you intend to charge in guns blazing or do you prefer a stealth approach?”
 

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Song chuckled as Kanan clung onto her as the speeder rocketed forward, but a hint of reluctance touched her mind. She wore thick armor plating and bindings to give her the figure and appearance of a man, but being that close, his hands on her waist, she realized it might become easier to see through her disguise.

Fortunately, embarrassment won out and Kanan didn’t press further, releasing immediately. She hoped he wouldn’t find out. It was a secret Song wasn’t keen to reveal. Not simply for the Creed, but to maintain her identity and reputation in that particular region of the galaxy. She was not Song, the daughter of Ghent Wren.

She was River, his son.

As the canyons approached, the rocks looming and shaped much like the wreckage of the Star Destroyer they had passed, Song eventually slowed to a stop. Just outside the narrow pass, she disembarked and checked her weapons.

I’d like to go in with guns blazing,” she said, inspecting the clip in her blaster, “But there’s no idea if Duermo’s alone. You don’t usually just run spice on your own. He’s got to have a crew of some kind. Besides, he might’ve set traps in the pass.”

Which is why we go where he doesn’t expect us.

She took a grapple line off her speeder and moved stealthily to the cliff face of the canyon. With a hard throw, she tossed the line up, fastened it onto a rock and began to climb. She expected Kanan would be following shortly behind her.

Try not to slip and fall,” she said as she climbed. “I need you, Ranger.

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Nothing was said in regard to Kanan’s brief moment of error; perhaps, hopefully River had not even noticed. Thankfully, the speeder soon came to a stop outside of a narrow pass at the edge of the canyons.

Kanan respectfully allowed the speeder’s owner to dismount first, and then Kanan followed suit. Dusting sand from his clothes, he unhooked the strap around his blaster at his side, ensuring that it was ready for use. He was looking forward to putting it to use.

River’s plan was sound. As appealing and exciting as going in guns blazing was, it was not the wisest course of action. In the end, caution always paid off in his experience. “Stealth it is,” he replied, only too glad to be a part of this adventure.

With one well-aimed, expert throw, the Mandalorian landed the grapple line successfully and began to climb. Kanan held the bottom of the line to stabilize it, and once River had ascended a safe distance, Kanan began to follow him. “You need me, Mandalorian?” he smirked, raising an eyebrow, not willing to let that comment slide so easily.

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Don’t let it get to your head,” she said, calling back down to him once she reached the height of the canyon ridge. “You know what I meant.

At the top, she scouted her surroundings with her binoculars until she spotted a small encampment in the distance. Past mounds of rock and stone, a small trail of smoke was rising into the sky. A campfire or something else, she didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. Somewhere ahead, Duermo was waiting.

Song gave Kanan a hand once he was at the cliff edge, pulling him up as well as the grapple line. She might need it for later.

Duermo’s not far ahead,” said Song, latching the binoculars back onto her waist before moving forward, using the many boulders and inclines for cover. “With night coming along, I doubt he’ll ever see us coming.

Already, she could see the sun setting. Deep shades of red and orange painted the sky, and the dark blue recesses of night was slowly slipping across.

In a matter of minutes, Song came to a stop outside the encampment, now in clear in view. Except, rather than atop the canyon, it was directly inside the pass. No doubt to stop any travelers, squeezing out a toll or straight up robbing them.

Today, she and Kanan would put that to a stop.

Readying her blaster, she glanced to the Ranger and said, “How many of them do you see down there?

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The view from the speeder had been enough to satisfy Kanan, but it paled in comparison to the view from atop the ridge. The sun was beginning to disappear behind the farthest canyon, creating a breathtaking, colorful horizon. Beautiful little moments like this were few and far between in his experiences throughout the galaxy, and therefor he took a moment to appreciate and cherish the beauty that lie before him.

Darkness was soon to follow; the blanket of night would provide the perfect cover for the Mandalorian and Ranger, and the boulders and cliff’s edges would provide the perfect protection.

Kanan followed River silently, letting him take the lead completely, as per their agreement. Surprisingly, Kanan found he did not mind letting this Mandalorian lead the way. In fact, he was looking forward to seeing the Mandalorian in action again, this time his blows not directed toward himself. His head was still pounding, now an assurance and reminder of his current companion’s abilities to handle himself.

With the question put to him, Kanan leaned in closer to the stone that protected them from view for the time being, seeking to get the best view he could. He peered at the encampment, allowing his eyes to thoroughly scan its borders, ensuring he made no mistake. “I count four,” he determined. “Not including Duermo.”

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I see,” said Song, nodding. “Four petty thugs and a spice runner. This should be a piece of cake.

She rolled her shoulders, stretching her muscles. The Mandalorian could still feel the ache of the bruises Kanan had left, her lower torso throbbing the more she twisted and moved, but they were minor pains. Nothing she couldn’t handle. What Song was more focused on was how the Ranger would fare against the men below.

Not that she planned to give him a chance to show.

With her grapple, she tethered the rope to closest and largest wedge of stone she could find. In her left hand, she held onto the line and with her right hand sat her unholstered blaster pistol. She stood up, her armor glinting under the set of moons which had now crossed into the night sky. Song turned to Kanan and smiled. Even if he couldn’t see it, he’d know enough.

See you on the other side, Ranger.

With that, the Mandalorian sped forward to the canyon edge and leapt. There were moments she wished she had a jetpack, like the rest of her kin, but in moments like that, as she sailed through the air with nothing to carry her but her strength, it was almost worth not having.

Swinging down and around, she reached the sandy ground in a muffled thud, rolling to break her short fall and cushion her landing. Nobody had caught her just yet.

But they would soon enough.

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Four goons and Duermo against the two of them. Kanan had been subject to worse odds in his past and come out on the other side just fine. He certainly was not concerned now, despite the pain his body already found itself in thanks to the Mandalorian. The pain had considerately subsided on the ride over, racing across the plains atop the speeder. Now, with less to distract and another battle looming, his body pain returned in its entirety. Perhaps it knew what he was about to do, Kanan wondered with amusement. The Mandalorian certainly knew how, when, and where to aim a well placed hit or two.​
Dwelling on the returning pain was pointless. He knew that as soon as he engaged the life forms down below at the encampment, swapping blows with adrenaline pumping and excitement flowing, that his pain would subside again. There was no remedy quite like a good fight.​
Perhaps Kanan was seeing things, or perhaps it was merely wishful thinking, but he could’ve sworn the Mandalorian had smiled over at him before masterfully grappling into the darkness and out of view. He had seen many a Mandalorian make use of jet packs before; they were, in a way, a staple of Mandalorian armor, but Kanan somehow felt that River did not need one.​
Perhaps River had smiled at him, perhaps not, but he could not help but smile himself when the Mandalorian’s feet left the ground. “See you on the other side, Mandalorian,” he replied.”​
Kanan opted to take another route to the encampment. He had spied some ledges on their ascent, and he would make use of these. Leaping down from his perch, he took hold of the ledge as he descended. It was narrow and sharp, and the pull of his entire weight caused the rocks to cut into his hands. It was not a pleasant feeling, but it was nothing Kanan had not experienced before. Slowly shimmying along, he made his descent toward the encampment, making use of one ledge after another.​
The last ledge did not hold under his weight, the rock crumbling beneath his hands, and he was forced to let go prematurely. Falling a much greater distance than he had planned, Kanan broke his fall as best as anyone could. Best of all, he was a safe enough distance away from the encampment to be neither seen nor heard.​
A descent less exciting than River’s, he supposed, but it had gotten the job done. He had never been one for theatrics anyway. He was a simple man. Moving to a crouched position, Kanan dusted off his hands and began to move closer to the encampment, always maintaining his cover and awaiting the Mandalorian’s signal or for him to make the first move. This was his show now, after all.​
 
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Like a sand viper, Song slinked toward the encampment. Three men were gathered around a campfire, chewing on roasted desert rats and drinking discolored spotchka. Their laughter hummed in the air, their jokes paper thin and their faces red with intoxication. None of them could notice the Mandalorian staring at them no more than a dozen meters off, stalking behind a boulder.

They were easy targets.

What worried her was the guard on watch. He sported a large rifle, a side pistol and a set of used plastoid armor. He was facing the canyon’s entrance, away from her, checking to make sure nobody was coming through. Song was thankful she hadn’t taken that road, else she’d have been shot off her speeder like she were target practice.

As for Duermo, she imagined he was asleep in one of the tents. Lazy sleaze.

Above, she noticed Kanan descending, pleased he was joining her.

Until he fell.

Her heart took a three-story drop. The guard would have noticed immediately: the flash of movement, the thud against the ground. She rose out from her cover to attack, hoping to stop the guard from attacking the Ranger, but a round of laughter burst around the fire.

The guard had turned to face them, failing to notice Kanan lurking behind him.

Song sighed in relief, but quickly retreated back into cover. When the coast was clear again, she peered over to lock eyes with the Ranger, who was already in position and waiting for her signal. Such a gentleman, she thought, waiting for her to start first.

That she did.

With a leap into the open, she fired a shot at one of the men circling the fire, square in the chest. If Kanan handled the guard, she figured the rest would scatter like dust in the wind.

Boy, was she wrong.

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A few of the men were gathered around the campfire, swapping stories and drinks, thoroughly intoxicated if Kanan and the Mandalorian were lucky. Duermo was not within view, but that wasn’t surprising. They would need to keep an eye out for the criminal’s inevitable entrance.

Closest to Kanan was a guard carrying a rifle. He stood watching the mouth of the canyon, ever diligent and ready for any altercation. Kanan had broken and muffled his fall as best he could but was surprised that this guard had not spotted him. Thankful, but surprised.

Kanan locked eyes with River as he approached from the opposite direction. Or, at least, he assumed they locked eyes. Kanan was definitely staring at him, but it was difficult to pinpoint exactly where River’s gaze was focused with the Mandalorian helmet he wore.

The step out into the open and the blaster shot was as clear a signal as you could get. The Mandalorian’s shot hit its mark directly in the chest. Kanan was afforded a brief moment to appreciate River’s well-aimed shot before abandoning his own place of hiding.

The guard had turned due to the sound of blaster fire, and Kanan was given the perfect opportunity to make his attack. Firing one blaster shot into the guard’s shoulder, Kanan rushed forward to seize the rifle from the guard’s hands and knock him to the ground.

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It was good to see Kanan had engaged in the guard on watch, saving her the trouble of dealing with a third armed man, but the odds were still stacked against her. She might have taken out one of the three men around the fire, but the remaining two, drunk as they seemed, reacted instantly.

They lashed out violently, whipping out their blasters and firing to where the Mandalorian hid.

Good thing their intoxication only helped to muddle their aim.

Their shots shattered into rock and stone in a burst of sparks. Song was pinned behind cover, struggling to find the right opening to strike again. Her mind wandered back to Kanan, no doubt busy grappling with the fourth, armored thug. If their previous fight had any indication of skill, she knew he’d manage.

What mattered in that moment was if she could.

With a sharp in-take of breath, she stuffed her pistol into its holster. Then, she took out her two knives, one off her belt and the other from her sleeve. Even with her helmet on, she kissed each one, like a blessing of good luck.

She leaned away from her cover and prepared to dive in.

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Even with a blaster shot to the shoulder the guard was able to put up a struggle. Impressive. It did no good in the end, however, as Kanan clearly had the advantage, both with the element of surprise and the blaster shot he had been able to get off.​

The two men struggled over the rifle for a brief moment; Kanan brought his knee up meet the guard’s stomach causing his grip on the rifle to loosen. The rifle now in his own hands, Kanan knocked the guard unconscious using the butt of the rifle.​

With the guard dealt with, Kanan could now turn his attention to River. The Mandalorian had returned to cover and understandably so. Though one man lie dead by the campfire, a testament to the Mandalorian’s marksmanship, the other two men had gotten to their feet and were firing in the general vicinity of River. Their shots were scattered and random, but they were just drunk enough to kill somebody.​

Aiming the rifle at one of the men’s heads, Kanan ensured the rifle was ready for use and placed his finger on the trigger, ready and willing to fire at any moment. “Drop the blasters!” he ordered the two men. He gave a warning when and where he could, but he had no qualms about shooting men such as these if that was how it must be. He doubted very much that they would comply and drop their blasters, but he had given them the warning anyway.​
 

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Song couldn’t stress enough how lucky she was to have found Kanan.

With the armored guard taken down, and the Sector Ranger having caught the attention of the two drunken thugs, the Mandalorian took the opening she was given.

She started at a sprinter’s pace from the boulder. Whether or not the last men, their backs turned, could hear her footfalls didn’t matter. The second they did, she’d launch forward with her jump boots, closing the space between them in the blink of an eye. In a thud, she would land a foot between each man, who turned rapidly to face her.

Too late.

On one knee, she slashed her knife across one man’s leg. He cried out and fell. Her blade continued its upward spiral, and in a flourish, buried itself into the other man’s shoulder, forcing him to the ground too, his head smacking on rock and knocking him out cold.

The first man squirmed in pain as she rose, holding onto a tiny, blinking transmitter, but she whacked him out of his misery with a smooth kick to the face.

She sheathed her knife, turned to Kanan, and smiled. “Thanks for that.

Now,” she said, moving into one of the only closed tents. “Let’s catch ourselves a Duermo.

Viciously, she tore the flap open and looked inside.

Duermo wasn’t there. He wasn't in any of the tents.

@llamallove
 
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The two drunken men facing Kanan, River appeared and came up behind them. Two blinks of an eye. That’s how long it had taken River to dispose of both men with the two knives he held in his hands. He handled them just as well as he did his blaster and hands—perhaps even better, if that was possible. Kanan made a mental note to thank River later for not having pulled those two knives on him earlier. That would not have been a pleasant experience.

“Any time,” Kanan replied, still rewinding that takedown in his mind.

Lowering the rifle, he followed the determined Mandalorian over to the tents. Finally, their prize—rather, River’s prize—was within their grasp. Nothing is ever quite as easy as it should be, however, and Kanan watched as one by one the Mandalorian tore the tent flaps open. Subsequently, one by one, they were all empty. Duermo was nowhere to be seen. “Gone,” Kanan muttered under his breath.

He turned from the tents and stared about the camp, unsure of what their next move would be. His eyes eventually fell on the small fire, and then he heard something. A distant sound, but bit by bit, the sound was beginning to draw closer to their position. “Wait... do you hear that?” he asked quietly, turning to River. It sounded like a... speeder. An approaching speeder.

With no time for pleasantries, Kanan took ahold of River’s arm and moved toward cover behind a nearby boulder.

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The blinking light of a transmitter, locked in the hand of the second thug she had knocked unconscious. The distant hum of an engine, screaming into the pass. The shadow speeding through the canyon’s mouth.

Duermo had arrived, and not in the way Song expected.

Pulled into cover, she narrowly avoided two speeder shots thanks to Kanan. Stone splintered where the laserfire landed, sparks sent flying. Behind the boulder, another set of shots struck loud and hard, and had the rock been as thick as it was, the attack might have punctured through, or burst into rocky shrapnel right then and there.

It wouldn’t last for very long.

Shit,” she said, cursing in Mando’a. “We have to do something!

Suddenly, the speeder rocketed by them and the stone they were hiding behind, continuing down the canyon pass before making a turn. Duermo was coming back, and this time Song wasn’t sure if she had time to hide. Not that she wanted to. She had a promise to keep.

The bantha fodder was going to pay.

Rising, she moved into the open, into Duermo’s line of sight. He let loose another few shots, which burst against rock, but he was closing in fast. Next time, he wouldn’t miss.

But neither would she.

Blaster back in hand, she waited in bated breath. Closer, and closer, and closer. The speeder shrieked towards her, until at last, she fired. A square shot directly into the vehicle’s engine. It swerved out of control, and though Duermo leapt off it in time, Song’s jump boots hadn’t cooled down fast enough for her to as well.

The speeder smashed into a boulder next to her. Into a fiery explosion, and Song was sent flying, rolling into the ground, swallowed by searing pain.

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One second later, and Kanan and River would have been on the wrong end of two speeder blasts. Duermo had the clear advantage now, despite them having fashioned the numbers down to two to one. Leave it to Duermo to bring a speeder. The little sleaze.​

The rock took each shot as Duermo passed by once. Duermo was making a second pass though, and he knew their exact positions now. He would aim better this time, and it was doubtful that he would miss. “We need to...” Kanan began, turning to River, but he was gone.​

Kanan jerked around. There stood River out in the open and awaiting Duermo’s second pass. There was no denying this Mandalorian had guts. Lots of guts. Duermo would not keep River waiting long, and Kanan watched with baited breath as the Mandalorian took aim and fired.​

The blaster bolt met its target: the speeder’s engine. A spectacular shot made under spectacular pressure. Duermo abandoned the speeder in the nick of time; the engine erupted, filling the canyon with a loud echo of the explosion that reverberated off the canyon walls.​

Kanan’s heart dropped to his stomach as the Mandalorian was sent flying backwards by the speeder’s explosion. He watched, helpless, the Mandalorian roll into the ground and eventually come to a sudden stop. All that was running through Kanan’s mind was regret. He should have acted more quickly. He should’ve beaten River to the shot. He would not make that same mistake now.​

Duermo had disappeared from view at the moment of explosion, enabled further by the black smoke that was now billowing from the speeder. Without a second though, Kanan darted out from behind cover and was by the Mandalorian’s side within seconds, kneeling down beside him. One hand was empty and ready to tend to the Mandalorian, the other hand still held the rifle for protection.​

Kanan’s heart was beating rapidly. “What made you think you could take on a racing speeder? Face to face? With only a blaster?” he questioned gruffly, his concern manifesting itself in irritation. His eyes scanned the Mandalorian, hoping there was no irreparable damage to his person.​
 

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Song laid on her back, her eyes fixed on the night sky above. White stars, vast constellations, the pair of moons staring down back at her. As a fire raged beside her, the remnants of the speeder now a smoking husk of parts, all she could think about was her brother, River. Wondered if he was watching her now, proud or disappointed.

Maybe she had made a mistake facing down the speeder.

She blinked to find Kanan stooped over her, and in her confused haze, he was like something out of a dream. Only the rigid pain in her back, the burns she could feel in the cracks in her armor, reminded her it wasn’t. Everything was real.

What makes you think I couldn’t?” she said dryly, a crack in her voice. “We’re Mandalorians, we do what we have to. I got him anyway, didn’t I?

She drew in a deep breath, a heave, then added, “Although I might have underestimated just how fast that kriffer was going. Thought I had time to avoid it.

Her eyes wandered off, past the Ranger, and toward the raging fire and billowing smoke. Another figure was emerging out of the fumes. A cloaked silhouette with a blaster pistol in one hand and a vibroknife in the other. Song already knew it was Duermo before he even spoke.

Step away from the Mandalorian,” the spice runner said, his blaster aimed at Kanan. “And drop the rifle.

Song looked back to the Ranger. Her voice fell low, and echoed the same words Tera had told them back in the scrapyard, the same thing they had been telling each other since the start of their hunt:

Make him pay.

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River had to be in a considerable amount of pain at that moment. There were cracks in his armor where burning had occurred, not to mention the body pain from the fall. Kanan placed a hand to one of the burns in an attempt to slow the small amount of blood that oozed from the wound.​

He couldn’t help but scoff at the Mandalorian’s words. Even now, lying on his back and completely out of it with his breathing labored, River continued to persist in his stubbornness and determination. Kanan supposed he could add that to the ever-expanding list of reasons he liked the warrior. “Yeah, I guess you did get him anyway,” Kanan relented, offering his Mandalorian friend a small smile of respect.
The moment Duermo’s voice pierced Kanan’s ears, his blood began to boil, and his smile disappeared. Sparing the Mandalorian one last glance, he slowly ascended to his feet. As he rose, one hand discreetly slid the vibroknife in his sleeve down to his hand.​

Once on his feet, he turned to face Duermo. Kanan stared down the barrel of his blaster. Attempting to fire at him now would be foolish; Duermo would shoot him instantly and with no hesitation.​
“Alright, I’ll drop the rifle,” Kanan replied, loathe to even speak to the scum. He took one step forward as instructed, away from the Mandalorian. “Here.” Lifting the rifle from his side, the Ranger tossed it underhanded toward Duermo. Tossing it instead of dropping it was risky, as Duermo might decide to shoot. But if Kanan was quick enough with his knife, that would not matter.​

As the rifle sailed toward the spice runner, Kanan hurled the knife as hard and accurately as he could given the small window of opportunity he had. The knife was intended to knock the blaster from Duermo’s hand, but Kanan would be satisfied for it to delve anywhere into his person. He wasn’t picky where it landed, so long as it hurt. Badly.​

Knife thrown, Kanan charged forward to tackle the spice runner, willing to take a blaster shot or two if it meant taking him down. It was time to end this, one way or another.​
 

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Good,” said Duermo, his grin wicked in the fiery light. “That’s it. Just let it go.

Song watched as the Ranger tossed over his rifle, gritting through the pain as she wondered what it was he had planned. Surrendering? He couldn’t. After their fight, she knew him better than to give in when victory was already so close. Kanan was as good a warrior, if not better, than she. He would know what to do.

Though she wished desperately she could do something to help him, the best the Mandalorian could do was conserve her strength and watch the showdown unfold.

Meanwhile, Duermo’s eyes flicked over to the rifle now at his feet. Satisfied, but only for the slightest second. Kanan had hurled the knife toward him, and the edge dug into the spice runner’s shoulder. The man cried out, but bit through the pain. Instead, he re-aimed his own blaster and fired aimlessly at the Ranger.

At that close a range, the shot had to hit somewhere.

But it didn’t change how quick Kanan was, and he was atop the spice dealer in the blink of an eye. Now, they’d wrestle for dominance, and Duermo would thrash about, hoping to land a punch or a kick or two against the tackling Ranger.

And Song would watch on.

@llamallove
 

Kanan Marek

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llamallove
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The knife had lodged into Duermo’s shoulder, and the cry of pain that escaped his lips was the best sound Kanan had heard in a long, long time. The sound of another blaster bolt echoed off the canyon walls. The bolt tore through Kanan’s arm, tearing and burning flesh as it went. This was not the first time Kanan had been shot, and it certainly would not be the last. It had been unavoidable. He clenched his teeth and worked through the pain. River had to be experiencing much worse pain at that moment.​

Once tackled, Duermo and Kanan struggled on the ground. It was a mess of flying limbs as both men inflicted as much damage as they each could. It was not a terribly glamorous fight, but Kanan couldn’t have cared less about form at that moment. All he wanted to do was beat Duermo within an inch of his life.​

Following a particularly painful blow to the head from Duermo, Kanan managed to pin one of the spice runner’s arms to the ground. Digging the vibroknife deeper into his shoulder for added measure, Kanan delivered one blow after another to the man’s face. Following each blow Kanan would consider ceasing his attacks, but thoughts of River and Tera would occupy his mind, and he would punch one more time. Then one more time. His hands were beginning to tire.​

Duermo was limp now and offering up no resistance. Kanan did not know if the spice runner was unconscious or if he was dead. Nor did Kanan know which he hoped it would be. Placing his hands on either side of Duermo’s head, he allowed himself a moment to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath.​

Placing two fingers on the spice runner’s neck, Kanan checked for a pulse and discovered that Duermo was still alive at the moment. Forcing himself to his feet, Kanan knelt down beside the Mandalorian. “Don’t worry. I didn’t steal your quarry,” Kanan smiled down at River, out of breath. “He’s still breathing at the moment.”
 
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