I Don't Get Tired

[Carbon]

The shifting winds brought renewed warmth out of the North. Summer meant the heat on the plains of Junction skyrocketed, and with it came a host of issues. Dehydration was the foremost concern, especially where caravans were concerned. Some outposts were three or four days away by foot, and some were several weeks. They were isolated, self sufficient places, the ones that far out.

Usually they were related to a small clan, or a group of like minded extremists. But even they needed periodic deliveries of supplies. No one could survive alone in this world. It was far from dead, as the Sith hadn't gone through and destroyed the ecosystem. This didn't mean it was easy to find what you needed. Much of the wildlife had been killed by roaming sithspawn, and the lack of experts on local flora meant you were playing with fire trying to eat what looked edible.

They'd set out from Rancher Morhe's two days back, and there was still two more to go. The Krovarans were a particularly brash sort on the fringes of Junction society, tending towards keeping to themselves. Usually you showed up, traded, and were promptly kicked out. Few knew anything about them. Their leader was a shaman though, which always brought to mind the Witches to those who had been to Dathomir.

What a shaman even was he couldn't say.

Another thing he couldn't say was 'who has water.'

His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. Attention turning towards the leader of the caravan, he gave a tired last look out across the barrens and came to the same conclusion he had five minutes back. We're going to die out here.

The heat was probably getting to him, but there should have been a well by now. These paths were well trodden, and they'd founded waystations when he was a child to help facilitate ease of travel. Maybe his memory was wrong. He hoped it would. But like a good Mandalorian he wouldn't complain.

"Ok, where's the well."

He didn't have to, apparently. Someone else had noticed. Load off his mind, but not off his dehydrated mouth and body. Crunch, crunch went his boots. Pant, pant went his breath.

 

[Carbon]

My mouth feels like sandpaper, and frankly its getting rather annoying.

And the constant arguing from the others was going to drive him up a wall - but sadly, there were no walls around. The argument was about what you'd expect from the situation, and went about so:

We missed the well.

No we didn't.

Yes we did.

I know where I'm going.

Clearly you don't.

Fine, then, you lead us.

Silence.

Wait five minutes.

Repeat.

But sure enough, an hour or two later and the shade of a small tree off to their east meant that they were nearing the well. It was there, in the shade, they'd get the water they needed. Something felt off though, and he wasn't sure what. He knew the moment they arrived though, as the bucket wasn't attached to the rope anyway. It lay nearby, as though cut off and cast aside.

Which then begged the question of how they'd get the water out of the well. They could recut the rope and retie the knot, hoping it would reach far enough down. That was about their only option. But something nagged him, and he remembered the words of a dark skinned woman. Believe.

Placing his hands on the edge of the well, the boy closed his eyes. Eventually Morhe realized the boy looked like he was having a heat-induced daydream, and went to shake him. A green hand rose to motion the man off. Digging into his mind, the boy wet his lips - sorta - and then visualized the water rising up from below. It was too far down to reach by hand or other device, and so there had to be another way.

If only the water could just... float up. That would be amazing.

All it would need to do is lift gently into the air, as though buoyed by an unseen force. He could practically see the pliable ball of liquid lifting up, writhing and squirming as gravity tried to re-exert its presence. But the water would not be denied, and the fist sized ball came up towards eye level.

Opening his violet orbs, he found himself face to face with a fist of water and the startled noise that escaped his throat sent it tumbling back down into the well with a splash. A chorus of yells followed that followed by an immediate request to do it again and in larger quantity. The caravan pressed in on him, and his mind shut down as anger at being so heckled set in.

 

[Carbon]

Despite the background noise, between Morhe and himself they managed to quiet everyone down to a reasonable level. One by one, the canteens were passed up, and one by one they were filled by someone holding them out and sliding them through the water suspended in the air. It wasn't the most efficient process, but it was about all he could do just to bring the water up.

It wasn't a large caravan, either, but by the time he was halfway through sweat was practically rolling off his brow.

This was difficult.

Not a child not listening 'difficult', but I don't know if I can sustain this 'difficult.' A grueling, laborious journey it was using the Force. But he tried his best because the alternative was death. Three more to go.

Sweat was running down his face.

Two more, and his heart was threatening to come out of his chest.

One more, and he was collapsed to the ground, being given water by a fellow caravaneer. Though he didn't feel it, he was hefted onto a bantha and let to rest while they continued on their way, now able to survive a little bit longer thanks to the boy who could lift water with his mind.

 

[Carbon]

They got to the Krovaran outpost by sundown, though Yarva was still unconscious at the time. A lone, rocky path lead up towards homes of mud and thatch, small patches of grass worn away by the careful tread of feet. So far as anyone was aware, these stoic individuals were the farthest out from 'civilization,' and the most likely to treat you as hostile before ever actually setting eyes on you.

Which is to say that while most would let you get within earshot, they'd start trying to run you off the moment they so much as saw your silhouette. The only exception was the tri-monthly caravan which brought them much needed supplies they couldn't get out here. You could live off the land, but only if there was actually something to live off of.

By the time he awoke, he was on his back in a small cot, staring up at a thatch roof with the crackle of a fire tickling his ear. Nights out in the rocky wastes could get quite chilly, even in the summer, and so fires were commonplace. But this fire didn't seem to have much wood, and in fact, it didn't. The fire was a hand, the hand of a tired old man staring down at the green child.

"You shaped the water." The geezer croaked.

Violet eyes, wild with fear, flitted around the room as if by doing so he could escape. Morhe stepped out of the corner, an expression of concern on his face. "This is their Shaman, Yarva." He explained quietly, speaking slowly as though somehow Yarva had forgotten how to adequately utilize his higher functions.

"Their what?"

"Their shaman. Krovarans shape... apparently. They make fire, shape and freeze water, lift the earth with a thought. They use the elements."

That confused Yarva, and the Shamans crinkled face split into a fatherly smile. Apparently that was normal. "We use 'the Force.'" They weren't so bad right now, so they clearly weren't Krovaran. Why weren't they trying to kill him? This didn't make sense.

"Sleep now, Yarva. We'll talk more come morning." The fire dissipated, and darkness returned.

 

[Carbon]

There wasn't that much talking come morning. In fact, there was the typical routine. A light breakfast in a dingy common building, everyone seated on mats with small bowls of rice and vegetables. Protein came at lunch. They'd only be here a few days, and that would be just about enough to learn what in the world 'shaping' entailed. Finding himself next to the Shaman - likely not a coincidence - Yarva brought some food to his lips.

"So what's... shaping."

That threw a layer of silence over the immediate conversation. "Shaping is the process by which we express our control over the elements. In this way, we bend the elements to our will." Green brow furrowing at the words, the boy swallowed his food before continuing. "So you exert your will onto nature?"

There was a nod from a musclebound, shaven-headed man nearby. "Just so. We are in control, and nature does well to listen."

That sounded oddly ominous to him, but given their reputation for being aggressive and unpleasant it made sense. If you exerted a violent level of control over your surroundings, why not over the things you considered a weapon? "So... you shape what? I saw fire, and you mentioned water. But what else?"

A man with cracked skin nearby chimed in. "The ground beneath your feet, and the air in your lungs."

Please, no. Such control sounded like it could only end terribly. "Well, what could you teach me before I leave?"

Everyone laughed. Yarva blushed.