She's a Rebel [Star Wars | Luke Skywalker] *EDITING*

Shooting and Scavenging

I head over to Luke's speeder, as our moisture farm is nearly three miles into town, and I'm too tired to walk that far. It's getting late as it is, and it'll probably take until nightfall to search merely a few garages and farms, let alone all of them.

I walk past the house, and I can hear the faint muttering of the men inside as they try and figure out plans that can reinstate a constitution after the war is won, and I roll my eyes and pull my helmet onto my head, trying to forget about them.

"Hey, Nat!" I hear Dex call, and I look over to find him stood in the doorway of the house, looking worried and anxious. 

I frown to myself and go over to him. "What is it?" I ask.

He glances over at the pilots and the row of ships, biting his lip. "I don't know how I'm going to fit in here. I've never flown a starship before. Heck, I haven't even fired one of those small blasters."

I smile at him and clap him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Dex. Firing small blasters are the same as firing a rifle, and if not, even easier. And piloting a starship is a lot like flying a speeder. You'll be fine. And anyway, even if you don't become a pilot, broken ships always need mechanics."

He gives me a small smile, but he still looks over at them wearily, playing with his hands, twisting his fingers anxiously and running his fingers across a bracelet made of entwined rope on his wrist.

"Here," I say, taking my hand from his shoulder and reaching into my bag, pulling out the blaster. "Take this." I hold it out to him, and he takes it carefully.

"Are you sure?" he asks, looking at it and then me with furrowed brows. "What will you use to defend yourself?"

I gesture to my lightsaber and blaster on my belt. "I have these, don't worry about it. Besides, these guys are bound to have an armoury hidden around here somewhere."

I hear squealing from inside the house, and then a young girl bustles past Dex out into the late afternoon sun. She has bright green eyes and straight, ginger hair that nearly reaches her waist. But she's not young in the sense of Cho, Ami, or I. She's very young, ten years old, perhaps eleven.

She runs around in circles, her arms outstretched as if imitating the wings of fighters, her hair flowing behind her, her simple, dull brown dress flapping as she runs.

"That's General Edgar Jackson's granddaughter," Dex tells me as he places the blaster I gave him onto his belt.

"Who?" I say, scrunching up my face in confusion and looking over to Dex.

"You know, the old guy who said he knew your father."

"Oh," I reply, looking back over to the young girl, who is now stood breathing heavily in front of the two us, staring up at us with wide, innocent eyes.

"Who are you?" she whispers.

"This is Natalie," Dex answers for me, kneeling down so that he's eye level with her, and she cocks her head to the side before staring up at me.

I stare back at her, frowning in shock. I haven't seen a child in so long, the last being the children from my town before their slaughter or enslavement at the hands of the Empire. How can something so sweet and innocent and naïve survive in an environment such as this?