[SEASON ONE, COMPLETE]
❛There's a word for us in Mando'a... 𝕹𝖆𝖗𝖚𝖉𝖆𝖗. Temporary ally. That's what we've been since the beginning... right?❜
• A bounty hunter encounters an enemy she's stumbled upon one too many times, though this particularly...
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Chapter Two: 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖛𝖎𝖛𝖔𝖗. word count; 5.6k
As predicted, dusk had fallen, yet the Mandalorian's ship was still pretty distant—a possible few hours walk. Eventually, the Mandalorian opted to camp for a brief rest, since the both of you were utterly exhausted. Especially since, earlier, a group of Trandoshans had plotted an ambush against you. What with the tracking fob they'd left behind, beeping insistently, they were undoubtedly bounty hunters. Just as determined to earn that handsome reward as you were. The encounter would've been plenty easier if the Mandalorian had bothered to hand over a weapon. At least your blaster. You weren't even asking for your lightsaber! But what was his response? Refusal after refusal after refusal, despite you insisting countless times.
Stubborn, insensitive, and brainless. You hated him.
Luckily, you could manage perfectly well with your fists. Though your injury restricted proper movements and dodging attacks proved to be quite difficult, all thanks to the amiable Mandalorian.
Still, you had escaped with a mere bruise on your cheek when a Trandoshan punched you straight across the face. That was... painful to say the least.
Not as bad as the Mandalorian, though. He had obtained yet another wound, this time a slice cutting through the side of his bicep. Served him right for being so inconsiderate. If he had tossed you a weapon, the fight would've been over in the blink of an eye, and he wouldn't have suffered another injury.
On the sorta bright side, the Mandalorian was smart enough to pack a cauterization pen. While it's not the best, painless way to treat wounds, it would solve your problem, and ward off dangerous infection. As soon as the camp was set up, you positioned yourself opposite to the Mandalorian from the small fire. The pram lingered closely, a short distance away and visible in your peripheral vision. The flames flashing bright colors of orange and yellow provided a pleasant heat that warmed you through the dropping temperatures of the night. Per usual, desert planets were blazing hot during the day and a stark contrast once the sun fell over the horizon—Arvala-7 was no exception.
Admittedly, you were surprised when the Mandalorian tossed the cauterizer towards your direction, which your hand instinctively caught between your fingers. You originally imagined he would make use of it first, then offer you the pen. Despite your puzzlement, you immediately utilized the object, all the while the Mandalorian focused on fixing his dreadfully damaged beskar cuirass.
Upon inspection, you noted the fabric of your pants near your wound were absolutely soaked with red, gooey blood. Which explained your sudden light-headedness and weakness. It was beginning to clot, though the process was much too slow. You couldn't risk losing anymore blood, which would gradually deprive you of your strength. Not when you're around the Mandalorian. So, you pulled on the opening of your pants, the material tearing with a quiet rip until the hole was wide enough. Now that you could clearly perceive your exposed injury, you flipped the cauterization pen on and began putting it to use. Though the heat didn't persuade the wound into being any less painful, and you couldn't help the disgruntled wince each time the pen came into contact with your sensitive burnt skin.
