Sword of Shiraya

Lorn let out a low, surprised hmph at the teen's comment about the vines. For the first time since they touched down on this world, a hint of amusement flickered in his voice.
"Yeah," he said. "Sounds about right. Everything's got teeth, and the things that don't? You just haven't seen them bite yet."
The corner of his mouth twitched when Aileni shot the question back at him. "Fair enough," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're right. I came in cold. Gave you a job, no manual. That's on me." He didn't try to justify it, didn't fall back on rank or mission stress or the usual Jedi platitudes. It was just out there. Simple. Honest. A rare thing in this galaxy.
When Aileni offered "Puberty?" as a half-joking explanation, Lorn snorted, a dry, real laugh escaping him. "I mean, that's one hell of a puberty you're having," he said. "Blasters, bows, existential rage, Force-induced identity crises. Pretty standard Jedi adolescence, now that I think about it."
As Aileni described Dathomir; its brutality, how close everyone was, how they survived by sticking together, Lorn's laughter faded, replaced by a thoughtful hum. His gaze shifted to the horizon, through the trees and the rain-drenched ruins of Mirater.
"That doesn't sound too far from here," he said quietly. "I didn't grow up on Naboo like the Council likes to list in my records. I was raised right here on Mirater. In the highlands. My Master, he was a Jedi Knight, left the Order to live among his people again. His sister, their family...they took me in."
He walked a few steps, then stopped, watching a cluster of wild birds scatter from a tree. His voice, usually quiet steel, turned low and raw. "We built something together. A resistance against the warlords. We thought we could fix it all with just enough will, enough good intentions. But we lost. One by one. I buried them all."
He glanced sideways at Aileni, not with pity or sadness, but with understanding. A flicker of something shared. "I'm not just here trying to save Mirater, or these kids. I'm trying to make sense of the fact that I lived and they didn't."
A long breath filled the silence.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot," Lorn said, his voice softer. "You've got a fire in you. Not just anger. Loyalty. You protect what's yours. I can respect that." Then, almost sheepishly, Lorn added, "If you're willing, I'd like to try this again. Start over. Not just as teacher and student. I think… I might have as much to learn from you as you do from me."
He started walking again, slower this time. "You miss Dathomir?" It wasn't rhetorical. The question hung there, sincere.
"Your bow, never seen one like it up close. Looks like it takes more discipline than most people realize. You think you could show me how to use it? Might be good for me to pick up something that doesn't hum when it cuts."
For once, Lorn didn't sound like a man waiting for the next betrayal. He sounded… curious. Hopeful, even. And tired of walking this path alone.