Chapter Text
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“What is it?”
Obi-Wan looked over at Quin before he turned back to the tree, squeezing the dry bark to let it know he was still there.
“They’re over-tapping it,” Obi-Wan murmured, rubbing its bark soothingly. “It’s too dry. At this rate, it won’t last the winter.”
Quin stepped forward to press his hand to the maple tree, then frowned as he shook his head.
“Humans,” he muttered, “They never know when to stop, do they?”
“No,” Obi-Wan agreed quietly, “They don’t.”
“Is there anything we can do for it?” Quin asked, ducking around the trunk to look at Obi-Wan curiously.
Obi-Wan’s brow scrunched in concentration as he closed his eyes, letting the low pulse in his hand flow through the tree as he mapped it out in his head.
“We’d have to pull the tap and wrap the trunk in something to protect the inside from pests,” Obi-Wan answered. "They drove the tap too deep and split the inside. If we leave it be, it’ll be ripe for the picking for any number of animals.”
“So no,” Quin murmured, “Because even if we pull the tap, it will have another by tomorrow.”
“’ Fraid so,” Obi-Wan replied, rubbing the bark, “I’m sorry, dear friend, but I think this is where we must say goodbye. It was a pleasure to know you. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”
“The door has to be moved then,” Quin said.
Obi-Wan nodded, “A dead tree can’t very well protect our domain, at least not like it could when it was alive. Once the tree has breathed its last, the door to our world will follow. We’ll need to find another location, not too far.”
“I feel like the door gets further and further back every year. When will it end?”
“I don’t think you need to worry too much,” Obi-Wan said, the blue in his eyes electric as they flickered up to Quin. You’ll find the natural world has a way. You can only hurt it so long before it fights back.”
“You always did have the most ominous warnings,” Quin said, shaking his head. “You always know how to unsettle people.”
“I thought that was your domain, darling,” Obi-Wan said, smiling at the man knowingly, “I’m of the natural world.”
“So am I,” Quin murmured, “Except I can walk among the humans, and you’re otherworldly.”
“Perhaps you can run back and tell your humans that they are tapping the trees too deeply,” Obi-Wan said, straightening up as he sighed softly, “Because I think the humans are starting to outnumber the trees of the forest. They need to tread lightly.”
“I said I could walk among them, not that I do,” Quin replied. "I’ll have to go back to Tholme and ask him what he wants to do. I fear that soon we may have to abandon our settlement and make our way west, like the rest of the settlements.”
“Every day, they take more and more ground,” Obi-Wan said, “Soon, they’ll find there’s no more ground to take. You think they’d realize what’s wrong, what with all the attacks on their settlements these days.”
He brushed the dried bark off his skirted bottoms, “I’ve done everything I could. I’ll pass on the information you’ve given to Yoda, and we’ll be in touch, Quinlan. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.”
“You’re still young,” Quin replied, “I don’t think anyone expected you to have all the answers, Obi. But still, thank you for your time.”
Obi-Wan flicked his hand, watching as the space between the trees warped, “Until next time, my dear friend.”
The council was already gathered when Obi-Wan made his way into the court, and he ducked his head in greeting.
“Talk to Vos, have you?” Yoda asked.
The dryad’s face was creased in seriousness, and Obi-Wan bowed his head in greeting.
“The spirits of the forest will soon have to give ground once more,” Obi-Wan murmured, “I’m afraid there isn’t much to be done. Their numbers are dwindling, and their door is near death. The only thing left to do is leave.”
There was a long silence in the council room before Rancisis finally spoke.
“We’ve lost another door. How many do we have left to give? Every day, our numbers dwindle, yet we sit here, fighting in the hopes that perhaps we may gain the upper hand with only small moves.”
“What else would you have us do?”
“Save my home, though I fear it’s too late for that.”
Obi-Wan swallowed dryly as the heaviness of grief fell over him.
It was too late for the boggart’s home, and everyone in the council knew it. Once the water from the marsh had been drained, there was little they could do, and soon, the land that had once housed a lush paradise was reduced to a forest of iron and stone.
It was a scar—a stark reminder that humans may very well never stop—not until every tree, every speck of moss, and every drop of water had been consumed.
Rancisis was old enough to remember the days when the humans left offerings, and it was hard to reconcile the world the man had grown up in with the world they now lived.
Even when Obi-Wan was young, he remembered the makeshift fae homes the children had built, excited to give them space to breathe and live despite their misconception of the size of the said fae.
Now, their settlements were draped in iron, and their cities barren of the spirits that used to happily breathe life into their cities’ centers.
“The creature-spirits will have to give ground,” Mace murmured, “I’m sorry, Rancisis. I wish I had the solution you were looking for, but we don’t. So long as we are warring on both fronts, we will continue to lose ground. If you wish for your home, then first we must have a solution for the one.”
“I fear every day the Sith take more and more,” Obi-Wan said quietly, “But not all hope is lost. The forest regenerates faster than the humans can consume. So long as we work diligently and continue on our path, the light will beat out the dark.”
“Until our numbers have dwindled so much that we no longer outnumber the humans,” Mundi said, his hands laced together as he looked off through the forest, “Soon, we won’t have enough hands to win the fight, Kenobi. I appreciate your optimism, but I’m afraid it may be misplaced.”
“It’s not merely blind optimism,” Obi-Wan replied, “But rather the understanding that something must be done and inaction may as well be opposition to the cause I believe in. Whether you believe the fight is won or lost, you’re right.”
“What has Tholme to say about his settlement?” Mace asked.
“He said that he and the creature-spirits will fall back to the Falls of Fountains,” Obi-Wan murmured, “Where he is hoping we will help to build a door within the falls themselves. He thinks that perhaps a firmer door may be necessary if they wish to continue their mission.”
“It so be,” Yoda said gravely, “Eladrin Kenobi, talk to your group, you shall. Prepared to enchant the door at once be. To the sprites of dimension to see if they can help move things along, we will talk.”
“Of course,” Obi-Wan agreed, ducking his head, “I’ll talk to them right away. In the meantime, I’ll happily scope out the area and figure out how many we need to complete the job. It shouldn’t be more than one or two. The dimension is thin around the falls.”
“Be careful. We’ve heard reports of a settlement that has turned to the falls as their water source,” Mace warned.
“I’ll be on the lookout,” Obi-Wan promised, “I’m familiar with the falls. My mother took me there as a child. It’s one of my favorite spots. It will be uniquely situated to serve as the door.”
“We expect to hear from you soon,” Mace murmured, “Good luck, Eladrin Kenobi.”
“You can’t tell me you think this a good idea—”
Jaster sighed as he turned to his second, shaking his head before Kal could continue.
“It’s not even dark yet,” Jaster said, “You needn’t worry. The forest creatures won’t come out until we are firmly in the dark, and the summer has blessed us with plenty of sun. It will be nearly midnight before the light is gone.”
“They don’t always,” Kal said cautiously, “They’ve been known to roam in the twilight often enough, and you’re injured. At the very least, I should go with you.”
“I think I ought to be able to bathe myself just fine,” Jaster said dryly, “Though I do appreciate your offer. A few hours in the mineral springs is what I need to draw the last of the infection from my skin.”
“You’ll reek of blood in a forest that knows no bounds,” Kal murmured, “Should you get lost, we may be too late to find you. Those creatures you speak of are fast. Faster than you can imagine, and once they’re on your trail, your fate is sealed, Jaster. I think you are making a mistake.”
“Perhaps, but it’s mine to make,” Jaster replied. "Now, I’ve got to be off. I need to clean the rest of my wound and be ready for bed soon. Our season’s meeting is tomorrow, and we can’t afford to be late—not with Vizsla vying for a spot on the council.”
“Even more reason you should have someone with you,” Kal argued, “Without your opposition to Vizsla, he may gain the upper hand over Concordia, and we don’t have the luxury of fighting him once he’s sunk his claws into our land.”
“Vizsla will go running just like he always does,” Jaster said firmly as he pulled on his greaves, “You know it as well as I do. He doesn’t have a leg to stand on.”
“Until he does,” Kal answered, “I can tell I won’t be changing your mind. At the very least, you should bring your flare in the event you may need it.”
“I shall endeavor to do such,” Jaster agreed. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have to finish dressing, and you have a report to record.”
“Yes, sir,” Kal said, “Do try to stay alive if you can.”
“I’ll do my very best,” Jaster promised.
Jaster would never tell his second—because surely it would start Kal on a tirade—but there was something soothing about being in the forest as the sun began to sink into the horizon.
Kal would probably lecture Jaster about sirens and nymphs, will-o’-the-wisps and succubus, all the beautiful things in the forest that would bare their teeth once you found yourself too close.
The forest was ripe with creatures that posed a danger to him, but sometimes it was nice to wander around, to let the song of the forest and the cool, crisp air fill his lungs and make him feel alive once more.
The warmth of the natural spring nearby was secret, staunchly guarded to keep unwanted visitors away. It had been Jaster’s own father who had told him that the forest only took what you yourself had taken.
The older man had firmly believed that working with the land—and the creatures on it—was the best way to find peace in their settlement. Jaster had taken the man’s words to heart, knowing just how easily the land someone worked could learn to fight back.
Sometimes, he thought it impossible to learn to work with a world that was so clearly against them, and he wondered if his father had ever struggled with things like he was now.
It seemed like the secret to coexisting had died with the man, back when Jaster was too young to lead his settlement like he did now.
The soft bubbling of running water floated through the air, making something warm curl in Jaster’s chest.
Jaster needed a place to rest and draw out the infection inside him, a request that seemed fairly innocent to ask of the forest. According to his buir, he was safe for the time being.
Jaster stepped towards the spring with a renewed vigor, only to stop just short of the banks.
The forest had stood for longer than humans had been alive, so it was no surprise that more than one settlement knew about the springs, and yet, Jaster thought the man sitting in the waters looked more beautiful than any being he’d seen.
Jaster took another step forward, only to stop as a twig snapped beneath his feet.
The man looked up with a startlingly blue gaze, his eyes wide in surprise, as he looked at Jaster before they flitted towards the neatly folded clothing near the bank.
“I’m sorry,” Jaster apologized immediately, ducking his head, “I’m not used to others being here. I should have checked first. Please, don’t let me disturb you.”
“Oh.”
Jaster hesitantly peeked up at the man, whose head had tilted consideringly.
“I didn’t know anyone of your kind could get here,” the man murmured, “However did you find this place?”
Jaster blinked, “Someone of my kind? Concordia may be midsized, but it’s not particularly new, and we are the closest settlement. My father taught me how to get here long ago.”
The man’s lips twitched, “Oh, did he?”
“Yes,” Jaster said slowly, “Is something funny?”
“No, not at all,” the man replied, gesturing with his hand, “Please, sit. You’ll find there’s plenty of room. Unless, of course, you are of the mind that two men—”
“Wrong settlement,” Jaster murmured, “We don’t care for rigid rules regarding personal preference. We focus our energy on morality, not culture.”
“Then you’re free to join me,” the man offered, “I hardly need the entire spring to myself, and besides, it’s nice to know your kind still know how to get here.”
Jaster looked at the man in question closely, racking his brain to figure out what settlement the man could possibly have come from, before he sighed softly, unlatching his armor as his bathmate looked at him.
“I don’t suppose your settlement understands privacy,” Jaster murmured, and the man blinked.
“We do. We just don’t value it highly,” the man replied, “I’ve never seen a man naked before. It’s just not come up if you could believe it.”
“That’s an interesting paradox you’ve got there,” Jaster said as he slipped down to nothing, stepping into the water and groaning softly as he stretched to bare his wound to the warm water.
“Oh, that doesn’t look good at all.”
The man across from him moved so fast that Jaster hardly had time to process before he was in front of him, hands hovering over the wound on Jaster’s side.
“It’s not,” Jaster murmured, “But I’m sure you can see that.”
The man was shorter than Jaster by nearly half a foot, his skin sun-kissed and glistening in the light despite its pale shade. For a moment, Jasteer could hardly convince himself to breathe, the man's beauty almost too much to take.
“It’s no ordinary wound,” the man murmured, his bright blue eyes flitting up to find Jaster’s. “Are you aware of what made it?”
“A fae,” Jaster replied, “It’s a curse, as well as a wound. So long as I live, it will eat at me. The springs have kept me alive, but I am no stranger to the miracle they’ve provided thus far. If my father hadn’t known where this spring was, I wouldn’t have made it past the age of six.”
“Not exactly,” the man said quietly, leaning down to get a better look at the wound. “This isn’t the work of an ordinary fae. Never mind the fact that they rarely target humans. Most fae don’t have the power to do this type of damage. Especially something this dark.”
He knelt in the water as his fingers brushed the wound, and Jaster sucked in a sharp breath, his body tingling from the man’s touch down to his toes.
It hadn’t hurt like brushing the wound normally would, and he couldn’t help but stare at the man in awe.
“You know of the fae?” he asked, “I’ve—Well, I’ve had questions about the wound since I got it. I don’t suppose you have any written material that may aid me in answering my questions.”
“Mmm, ‘fraid not,” the man murmured, “And you won’t find any. The fae are transient, as is their history. You would need to meet one to talk to them and find anything of use. Anything they record would stay in their realm. A realm I wouldn’t recommend walking into without an escort, lest you get lost.”
“You sound like my second,” Jaster replied, “I—Don’t think me rude, but I don’t think I got your name.”
The man looked up at him, his eyes twinkling, “That’s rather forward of you, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps, but touching a wound you know little about on a person you know even less about seems rather forward as well. I thought perhaps we were at the level.”
“Names have meaning,” the man said, “Meaning that means you ought to be careful who you give them to. I thought someone like you would know that.”
It was like getting slapped in the face with cold water.
“Of course,” Jaster agreed, “I’m sorry. I seem to have forgotten myself and lost track of where I am. I, of all people, should know that spoken names in the forest of the lost would be a mistake.”
“Perhaps,” the man murmured as he stood, “But lucky for you, I don’t mind. My name is Obi-Wan. What do they call you?”
Jaster swallowed, his throat dry as the man gave him a small smile.
There was something strange about the man—something Jaster couldn’t quite put his finger on—and he wondered if it might be time to take the man’s advice.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t say,” Jaster replied quietly, “I think—I think something feels a bit off.”
The stranger—Obi-Wan—smiled wider, and Jaster jerked back as he realized what was so strange about the man’s face.
His canines were sharp—just a little too sharp to be human—and the brightness in his eyes was unnerving, like they were too vivid to be real.
“I think I might understand the feeling,” Obi-Wan murmured, “But you’ve nothing to fear. I’m not here to hurt you, and I have the feeling you aren’t here to hurt me, either. If you had been, there isn’t any way my family would have given your father directions to get here.”
“Directions to get here?” Jaster asked, looking around, “What is—what is here?”
“It’s known as a liminal space,” Obi-Wan responded, “A place between places, though I fear that may not make sense to you. It’s quite a simple concept that seems to elude most humans. This is the bridge—a space that keeps your world connected to my home.”
Jaster’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed thickly.
“So you’re a—”
“A fae,” Obi-Wan agreed, “Though not the nasty dark fae you seemed to have run into as a child. We call those Sith here. It’s a rather broad term, but it fits nonetheless.”
“And you are…”
“A Jedi,” the man answered, “Though more specifically, an eladrin—or elf. I speak for the life that can’t speak for itself.”
“You speak for the life…that can’t speak for itself,” Jaster replied, taking a step back, “Like the blink dogs.”
“More like the trees and the rivers,” Obi-Wan murmured, “I work with the natural world, not the underworld. I assure you that isn’t my area of expertise.”
“Like the…trees,” Jaster parroted back dumbly, “Are you serious?”
“As serious as one can be staunchly naked in a magical spring with another man,” Obi-Wan said, lips twitching with a grin, “You were the one who got in here with me if I do recall, and this is my space.”
“Your space,” Jaster murmured, “Then perhaps I should be going.”
He stepped back again, and a hand shot out to pull him in.
Obi-Wan’s cheeks flushed pink as Jaster’s body pressed against his, and the eladrin suddenly looked much more bashful as naked skin touched naked skin.
“You’re injury,” Obi-Wan said quietly, “You’ll do poorly if you leave now. It hasn’t drained the curse that it needs to for you to be okay again. Leaving early means you won’t get better. I’m sorry I spooked you. I was rather surprised you didn’t clock me right away.”
“What’s the faes' opinion on two males sharing a spring?” Jaster asked, trying to tamp down the instinct to run. It wouldn’t help with a creature as fast and strong as a fae.
“There aren’t any rules about it whatsoever,” Obi-Wan murmured, “I suppose because we don’t exactly have males or females. It’s rather a blend of the two.”
Jaster sucked in a sharp breath as he looked down, even though the water was too cloudy to see through.
“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan apologized again. "Perhaps you could let me take a look at your wound as an apology? I may be able to do something about it, so long as you don’t mind.”
“Like what?” Jaster asked.
Obi-Wan’s face flushed even deeper as Jaster pressed tighter against him.
“You are very shy for a fae.”
“I’m fairly young for a fae as well,” Obi-Wan murmured, “Just a hair past a teenager, by your standards. As I’ve said, I’ve never seen a man naked, let alone had one pressed against me. It’s…rather different.”
“You said you are eladrin,” Jaster said quietly, “So not one of the fae that draws men in, correct?”
Obi-Wan’s face scrunched up in distaste.
“Those are not fae,” he informed Jaster, “Those are folk. It’s very rude to lump us all together, you know. The underworld and the overworld are quite separate, and we do things differently. How would you like it if I referred to you as an ape?”
“I would tell you I’m not sure what you are talking about,” Jaster replied, “What is an ape?”
Obi-Wan huffed out a laugh.
“Oh yes, I forgot,” he said softly, “You weren’t around when the apes roamed this area, were you?”
“I thought you just said you were little more than a teenager.”
“I said by your standards,” Obi-Wan replied, “I’ll have you know I’ve just turned one hundred and eight years young.”
Jaster jerked back before he could think better, the visceral feeling of wrong ricocheting through his body, even as Obi-Wan pursed his lips cutely.
“I forgot how unnerving that could be for some,” Obi-Wan murmured, “Perhaps Quinlan was right, and I should stick to what I know. I don’t belong with the humans.”
“Then definitely not anything that would eat me,” Jaster said, “Because you’d be familiar with humans if that were the case.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Obi-Wan agreed, his eyes darting down, “and I didn’t try to lure you either.”
“I don’t know,” Jaster murmured, “You were pretty persuasive.”
“All I said was you could join me,” Obi-Wan replied.
Jaster put his hands on Obi-Wan’s waist despite his misgivings, a thrill running down his spine as Obi-Wan gasped softly, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before he seemed to get a handle on himself.
“I’m naked,” Obi-Wan murmured as if Jaster might have forgotten.
“Exactly,” Jaster agreed softly, “You were naked and lying back in a warm spring looking like the most ethereal being I’ve ever seen, and yet, you sit here and say that you’ve not tried to sway me one way or the other as if you don’t know that your beauty is what swayed me to stay in the first place.”
“That wasn’t on purpose,” Obi-Wan said quietly, looking up at Jaster through copper lashes as he bit his lip, “You stumbled upon me. It’s not as if I were looking for you.”
Jaster’s hands started to sink lower until Obi-Wan’s hands grabbed his, squeezing around Jaster’s fingers with strength just a touch too hard to be human, as if to remind Jaster what he was doing.
“I can’t do this,” Obi-Wan said, his face flushed as he pulled back, “Like I said, I’ve never even seen another man naked. I’ve just reached the age to do this kind of thing in the last year—”
“Of course,” Jaster replied, pulling back further and clearing his throat, “I’m—I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’m not normally so…forward.”
Something prickled along his neck, and he turned around, eyes scanning the space around him as he realized just how vulnerable a position he was in.
“I should leave,” Jaster muttered, “This isn’t safe. Kal was right. This is—”
“At least let me look at your cut first!” Obi-Wan said, darting forward, “Please, it’s the least I could do.”
Jaster backed up further, “I shouldn’t. I’ve got to go. This was a mistake.”
Obi-Wan didn’t seem so sly as Jaster pulled himself from the water to quickly dress, his hand still raised out like Jaster might change his mind.
Jaster didn’t, the spell broken and the dread settling in his stomach as he realized what kind of game he’d been playing with a fae.
It didn’t matter what kind of fae he claimed to be. Jaster couldn’t trust him. The creatures of the woods had turned—far from the calm and collected spirits that Jaster’s father had known—and no matter what differentiation Obi-Wan claimed there was, Jaster didn’t know the man’s intentions.
The fae had burned their people once.
Jaster wouldn’t allow there to be a second time.
“Your wound,” Obi-Wan said as Jaster turned away, shoulders set as he readied himself to fight the man.
“My wound will be fine,” Jaster said sharply, “I’ve lived with it this long. I will find another spring.”
“It’s not that simple—”
Jaster didn’t let Obi-Wan finish his sentence before he was gone.
“I can tell something is weighing on your mind, young one. Why don’t you tell me what seems to ail you?”
Obi-Wan looked up at Qui-Gon before he ducked his head back down, fingers returning to the soft flowers he was pollinating.
“I met a man,” Obi-Wan murmured.
“I feel as though there may be more to the story than that,” Qui-Gon said knowingly.
The Foraois always seemed to know when something else was going on, and Obi-Wan often wondered if Qui-Gon heard more than he let on.
“I met a man in the spring of cleansing,” Obi-Wan murmured, “He said his father had taught him how to get there. He was…strange but kind. I…I think I rather liked him.”
“Liked him enough that you’re still thinking about him?” Qui-Gon asked as he brushed the leaves with his hands, smiling softly to himself as the crimson deepened to maroon. "He must have been very special indeed.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Obi-Wan said immediately, “The council need not get involved if that’s what you’re worried about. It was just…well, he had a mark of deprivation on him. He said he’d had it since he was a child.”
Qui-Gon’s eyebrows found his hairline, “Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure,” Obi-Wan agreed, tilting his head as the flowers opened up happily under his touch, “I didn’t get a very good look at it, but I felt the darkness when I touched it. I—He said he’s had it since he was a child.”
“That’s strange,” Qui-Gon murmured, “The dark fae very rarely mark humans like that. Normally, they are the devil on their shoulder, not an immediate threat. Did he remember anything about getting the mark?”
“I never got to ask him,” Obi-Wan replied, “He found out I was fae, and it scared him off. He was gone before I could even get his name. From the way he sounded, I won’t be seeing him in the spring again.”
“You sound sad,” Qui-Gon acknowledged.
“He was very kind and respectful,” Obi-Wan said, “I don’t understand what a child could do that was so horrible that he deserved the mark of deprivation. I can’t help but feel like he’s paying for someone else’s mistakes. Without the spring, he’ll surely be dead.”
“Then it sounds like he will have no choice but to return to the spring,” Qui-Gon replied, “Perhaps you could wait him out. Cast a spell at the spring to alert you the next time he is there.”
“If I’m being honest, I think he might rather die than return,” Obi-Wan said wryly, “He thought me a folk. I think he was of the mind that I was going to try to eat him.”
“Ill-informed,” Qui-Gon agreed, “The council won’t like this at all.”
“So you’re going to tell them,” Obi-Wan grimaced, “I was rather hoping I might be able to go find the man. Maybe…take a look at the mark and talk to the council about its removal.”
“I will not tell the council anything that you do not tell them yourself. It is of no importance to me, Obi-Wan. I am a kinsfolk, not a fae. I do not answer to them.”
“I want to help him,” Obi-Wan murmured. "I don’t know what it is, but something is calling to me, telling me I can’t just let this be. Perhaps it is misguided, but what if it’s the sign we’ve been waiting for? The one to tell us what we’re fighting for is worth it.”
“Then it sounds like no matter what happens, you must follow the calling,” Qui-Gon replied. "If you think it important, you must follow your gut. It has never steered you wrong before.”
“I suppose you are right,” Ob-Wan mused, “Now, how are the trees looking? All good?”
“They are not in the health I would prefer,” Qui-Gon said, frowning a little. "I fear they are in worse and worse health every year. What about the first floor? Is everything good with it?”
“It’s struggling,” Obi-Wan sighed, “The Sith have been through here, and they’ve made their mark. It feels like the ground has been scarred. I’m not sure there’s much I could do for it without the help of someone else. Some things just…”
Obi-Wan bent down, gently shaking one of the dandelions, “Done without magic. It needs physical reseeding and, more importantly, to be left alone to grow. The humans are stomping around and leaving trails of dust in their wake. The fragile-most plants can’t survive being underfoot.”
“So more of the same old. It seems we so rarely give good news these days. It really is a shame. I miss the days when the humans left the world to grow. I think it could use some peace.”
“Yeah,” Obi-Wan agreed, “I think so as well.”
“Maybe when you see this man of yours next, you can tell him to stay along the road most traveled by,” Qui-Gon murmured, “Leave it to the humans to take the road least traveled and leave a trail of destruction in their wake. It would be rather impressive if it weren’t so sad.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Obi-Wan said wryly, “Now, perhaps we can focus on the problem at hand.”
“The problem at hand is the humans.”
“Somehow,” Obi-Wan murmured, fingers brushing over the roots of a rotting tree, “I’m not sure that’s completely accurate.”