Star Wars_ The Approaching Storm - Alan Dean Foster [74]
There was more she wanted to ask him, but he was right. Thrown together for long periods at a time, Jedi and Padawan alike had a need for privacy. Curious and concerned though she might be, she was going to have to respect that. In their time together on Ansion, Anakin had done nothing to make her suspect his competence. Where Jedi teachings were concerned, he was as reliable and aware a fellow Padawan as she had ever met—if a bit strong-headed. What vexed her were these personal problems of his, inner quandaries that he only occasionally allowed to rise to the surface of his self, where others could perceive them.
She didn’t want to quarrel with him, or accuse him. She wanted to help. But in order for her to be of any use, he would have to open up. If not to her, then to Obi-Wan. Clearly, there was much on his mind beyond a desire to do a good job and to eventually be promoted to the status of full Jedi Knight.
Perhaps with the passage of time, he might choose to confide in her more. Until then, she would try her best to monitor his shifting emotions, and to be there if he needed someone besides his teacher to talk to. Meanwhile, he would remain a bit of an enigma. She moved to join him and the others. If nothing else, he was certainly unique. That uniqueness gave him something to build on. But if he hoped to ever be promoted to full Jedi, he was going to have to sort out those problematic inner uncertainties.
She had never met such a thing as a conflicted Jedi. But then, she had never before met one who had been raised by his mother.
The chawix outbreak did not last long. Only long enough for a snack, a quick drink, and a brief rest, following which the travelers prepared for departure. It was when she was preparing to climb back onto the saddle of her mount that Barriss noticed the creature digging through the supply pack that was tied across the suubatar’s second back. Momentarily startled by the unexpected sight, she froze.
It looked very much like any other Ansionian. The bright, convex eyes, the bipedal build, and the long, nimble fingers and toes were identical. But instead of the narrow mane that ran from the top of the head down the spine to terminate in a short tail, this intruder was completely covered in short, dense, dark brown and beige fur striped with dull yellow markings. Instead of a twitchy stub, its weaving tail was as long as her arm.
Most striking of all, it barely came up to her waist.
“Hey, stop that!” she yelled in all-purpose Ansionian.
Both arms laden with a trio of flexiwrapped foodpaks, the startled intruder looked up in response to her sudden shout. Emitting a defiant squeal, it turned and leapt off the back of the indifferent suubatar. Unhesitatingly, she raced around her mount’s front end. If the creature stayed where it was, it would be trapped against the rear of the overhang. If she failed to intercept it and it ran outside, it would be highly visible and therefore easy to track down on the slopes that bordered the gully.
As she rounded her mount’s head, it lifted its snout to sniff lazily at her, then closed its eyes and resumed its resting posture. She expected to see the prowler huddled against the back wall, or racing for the gulch beyond. What she saw instead was a pair of legs vanishing beneath a protruding shelf of rock near the rear of the overhang.
A quick backward glance showed her companions chatting or preparing for departure. If the little thief thought he could hide in a hole, he was very much mistaken. She was not so easily deceived. Dropping to her knees, she went in after it. If she could get a hand on one of those small feet, she was sure she could drag the intruder back out.
Unexpectedly, the hole opened into a fissure that ran back into the hill. Light filtered down from above. At that point she hesitated. Cornering the thief in a dead-end recess was one thing;