The Valiant (1)UNDER CONSTRUCTION

Prologue

The rays of the glimmering Tattooine suns shined through the little window of the clay yurt-like structure my mother and I presided in. I had been packing up my most valued things into a wide canvas container, which once on my belt would create a perfect travel bundle. My best friend and neighbor remained on my heels as I maneuvered throughout my small quarters.

"Emily, you can't leave! Your mom will be devastated that you ran away."

I responded to his claim solemnly, keeping my calm attitude present in my voice," First off, I'm not running away. Rather, I'm leaving for a mission. It's simply as if I were drafted into a militia. I'll be back eventually. Besides, she has nothing to worry about. I can handle myself pretty well."

His response only consisted of a slightly whiny tone,"But surely the Sand People will confront you..what if they hurt, or worse, kill you?"

"Luke, I have my father's old blaster. I will be fine." I reassured him, looking up at him once in between my hurried selection of necessities for my trip.

Letting out a large sigh, as if it was defeatist, his gaze met my eyes," I'm going to miss you."

The truth behind his protests was finally revealed.

Giving him a half smile, which consisted of pity and sympathy, I approached him and wrapping my arms around him, I pressed him close to me in an embrace.

Letting him go after a few seconds, I sighed, "Well, I should be off."

Starting up a flight of stairs, I headed towards a back door of the property. I didn't wish to be seen. Luke followed closely behind.

A tear sprouted from the corner of my eye, as I gazed at the acreage of the farm. It was a moisture farm, producing blue milk to support our broken yet modest family. I was leaving my mom's only livelihood behind, and I was leaving my best friend.

Anybody else would've called my decision selfish. And it did feel slightly selfish. I was just praying that I would find my dad promptly, and be allowed to return to home in quick timing.

Never have I ever been more wrong.

I started marching towards the suns, as soon as I felt the will to begin my long and intense journey. When I reached a distance of about 100 yards away from the modest homestead, I looked back, and waved at Luke one last time, sighing before I pivoted back towards the sun.

That was the last I saw of him since.

{Edited 1/24/18}