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goodnightallwhites · 4 years

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Just some Vanilla Black Bull Breeding By BlackingPacking

Just some Vanilla Black Bull Breeding

By BlackingPacking

Submitted: January 1, 2020 Updated: January 1, 2020

You and your wife have a fertility problem. And she has a solution.

What are you gonna do about it?

Contains: Interracial BBC, Cuckolding/NTR, impregnation

Provided by Hentai Foundry.

Chapter 1 - Her proposal 2

Chapter 2 - Their texts 5

1 - Her proposal

You and your wife had to have a talk

That’s what she told you, at least, when you woke up, before you both went to work. Thankfully, she was easy to talk to. She had a silky, adult voice that was always accompanied with a smile. And boy did her smile make it easy to look at her. She had perfect lips, neither too thick or too thin, that were always prettily pink. Her smile covered her bottom teeth, so her big upper pearly whites were visible, while her mouth as a whole made her entire face sparkle happily. Her eyes, most adorably, didn’t become squinty when she smiled either. Her bright blue-green eyes were always round and bright, and remained just as doll like even when the bottoms were pushed up with her smile.

You thought about it all day during work, but that was normal. With her long, smooth, subtly curvy legs and perky pair of jiggly tits, not to mention her lithe arms, neck, and belly, you usually spent days thinking about her. You’d been married for 2 whole years, and were both almost 30 now, and you still had these thoughts. She said it was adorable how you thought about her. She never mentioned how she was out of your league.

When you got to your quaint little suburban one-story, she jumped off the couch and hopped over to you to greet you with a big, sloppy kiss, kicking up one bare foot like she did every day. What an adorable little kitten.

Today was slightly different though, and you just couldn’t place it. Her smile was a bit wider, and her hops were a bit bouncier. Her heart was beating faster. Still, she spoke just as titillatingly as always.

“Lemme get into something more comfortable, hun. I’ve got a really good idea for you!”

You agreed, playfully picking her up and bridal carrying her into your bedroom. She giggled at your playfulness, making you both feel younger. You couldn’t wait to hear her idea, and she seemed like she couldn’t either. When you put her down, she almost fell over she was so excited to get into the closet.

God, she was too cute.

You took off your coat and belt, laying them over the chair, before sitting down on the bed. Not long after, your wide-eyed wife bunny hopped from the closet with her sexiest tan lacy nightgown. Hyper, she hopped onto the springy bed with a laugh before poking you on the nose. Under the lace, you could see how she wore nothing but a lavender pair of lingerie panties. The mid size ovals of her tits hung free under her gown.

Your dick was already getting hard.

“Alright honey,” she said, lounging right next to you on the bed. She tossed a pillow onto the ground. That amber-brown hair of her spread out over the comforter while she nibbled on her finger. Yeah. The one with her wedding ring. “So, this might be a hard conversation for us. Well, for you. But, it’s

important, right? We have to tell each other things.”

You tell her you agree, that you think you should be totally open about everything, and all that.

“Oh good. God, you’re the best. Alright,” she shifted her weight nervously, “So, you know how we’ve been married for like 2 years. Shit, close to 3 now! And whenever we go meet my family or your family or whatever,” she sighed, “they’re always like ‘you’re so happy! You’re so perfect! You need to start a family! When are you gonna have kids!” she waved her hand.

You nod along, noting you two’s troubles with having the kids she wanted so badly.

“So yeah. I wanna talk about kids. Fertility and all that. Now I know we went to the clinics recently, and both of us technically can have kids, but it still isn’t working out. And you know I really want babies, and I know we’ve been talking about adoption, but I don’t want that. I want us to get pregnant, you know?”

You keep agreeing with her, keep encouraging her.

“So, uhm,” she looked at the ceiling with a nervous laugh, “I talked about this with my aunt. You know, my mom’s younger sister? And she actually had a solution. You know what she did, right?” Your wife blushed a little.

You were confused. You thought her aunt adopted her kids.

“You don’t know? Oh, alright. Well, they, uh, don’t like to advertise, but what they did is supposed to really work! And I looked it up online, and a lot of people do it, and the couples are all really happy with it. It’s a little out there, but they say it’s being normalized, so it can’t be bad, right?”

You tell her you’re willing to do it.

“Alright- it’s really exciting! So, um, what it all is. Well,” she bit her lip with a closed-lip smile, “So, to get me pregnant, what I’d do is fuck a black guy.”

She blinks, nervous, but you don’t disapprove. “You’re good with that, right? Like, it’s why tons of white girls today are getting together with more black guys. Trust me, it’s a really good idea. Black guys are found to be more fertile than, you know, white guys like you. And they’re um... Like, not to hurt your feelings, but they’re almost always bigger. You’ve heard that, right? How their dicks are way bigger. The whole BBC thing? And apparently, since they’re so much bigger, they make the girls orgasm more, which makes them suck their cum deeper into their wombs, making them more likely to get pregnant!”

“And...” she kept going. She had clearly researched this. “Yeah. I’m going to fuck a black guy.”

What the hell... your wife? Just said she wanted to get Blacked?

“With your permission, of course!” she added, “But... if you wanna ask my opinion, like, I’d really love to,” she pinched her legs together, put her hands between her thighs and rolled a little, “The idea of a big, black cock getting all up in my insides gets me soooo wet,” she licked her lips, “No offense though! Like, you’re white of course yours is gonna be, like, y’know...” she pinched her fingers, showing you

about the size of your meager dick, “I mean, it works. It’s a perfectly fine dick, but, just, a little, a little paltry, sorta small. It’s not like you or any white guys can help it! So please don’t blame yourself. I mean, your things made me cum before, but it doesn’t like, fill me up the way I wanna be filled.I just want something bigger, y’know."

You did know. And you knew what you had to do. You felt ashamed, but your little cock was rock hard for your wife.

You told her you’d let a black bull knock her up.

“Really, babe? Omygod, thank you!” she smiled catily, bouncing the bed happily as she leaned over to kiss you. All you could think of is how those lips of your wife would soon be wrapped around a big black cock. Or a even kissing the man who’d get her pregnant. Whose baby you would raise. “Mmm, honey,” your wife said, feeling your stiffy. "Did you get turned on, thinking about me being bred by a black mans huuuuge cock?"

You couldn't lie to her

She giggled more as she stradled you. She lifted up her gown to show her wet panties as she rubbed them against you. "Wanna fuck me, babe? I'm fine if you knock me up, but I still wanna get railed by a black guy. Either way, you'd better fuck me while I can still feel you, hubby dearest."

You two fucked. It was sweet, cute sex. Nothing like what some black man would do to her.

After that, you ate dinner together. The subject of the conversation was what black man you wanted to breed her.

This is where you come in- what kind of black guy would YOU want for your wife? Where would you want him to fuck her? What role would you play?

Tell me here, or on any threads I'm in, or on discord, and soon I'll see what you want and then you get to see how your wife gets black bred!

2 - Their texts

A few nights later, while your wife was watching something on her friend’s Netflix account, you stole her phone away and looked at her texts. It was then you found out she had a tinder, which both aroused and humiliated you. You just wanted to stalk her phone, but you had to sneak into your bedroom and drop your pants to do so.

With your needle length dick in your small fist, you read through her Tinder matches and messages. Her profile said ‘black guys only please!’ followed by a spade emoji. She had explained to you the other day what that meant. She tried not to laugh the entire time.

As it turns out, she hadn’t gone on a single date with any of her tinder matches, all hot black guys. One was even 18! She had ghosted most of them, it looked like. Never gave out her phone number, and had even texted a few ‘sorry, I can’t do this.’ She was trying to be loyal, despite her love for BBC. God, you loved her.

All those Tinder messages were old though. It looks like all her new texts where front and center on her messaging app.

Your wife was the type of person who never made contact photos for her contacts on her phone. But now you could see three or for pictures of different muscular black men, all texting her.

The most recent was a couple hours ago. While you were at work. She’d texted him back and forth and sent plenty of pictures. You looked at the name.

Malik. You’d found him on Facebook, it turns out he was one of your wife’s coworkers’s exes. They ended on good terms, and so her friend recommended him as a black ‘breeder bull’, as she said. You’d never met him, but you trusted your wife’s friends, so you were happy with her choice.

Your wife sure seemed happy with him. They texted a ton. You scrolled up to this morning’s chat, past some nude selfies from both of them, and read.

>Hey babe how was ur night?

<Great! Had a fun time with hubby

>Lol >Did u fuck him?

<yeah, and talked all about BBC, he’s really into it. I’ll talk to him about scheduling our get together tonight

>lmao, how was that tiny white cock?

<don’t be meannnn ?? he can’t help it

>can’t help being white or can’t help having a clit dick?

<what’s the difference ?

>damn right bitch >you need somma this

Attached was a live picture of his ungodly black meat. Based on your meager member, cocks like this shouldn’t exist. The ones in porn were all rubber or bloated or pumped up, right? But this made you do a double take at its double length. (Maybe triple? Don’t kid yourself. That monster was at least quadruple your size) It was dark, rich chocolate black and veiny, shining in the light of the flash and looking like it could make your wife cum like a pornstar and crush your dick in a single blow.

You sometimes called your little package ‘your manhood,’ but this thing made you feel unworthy to refer to yourself like that. It was a real man’s cock. The next picture was it in his hands. His hands looked huge, since he had a watch that barely fit around his wrist, and even with two hands around his cock ? was still uncovered. The next was from between his legs. His cock was pointing straight to the sky but his weighty balls hung low. They totally covered his asshole. Your balls weren’t half that big and hefty, and they certainly didn't hang like that.

<ahh fuck ?? that’s the best dick I’ve ever seen

>how many have u seen?

<why’s that matter?

>just wondering lol >I know that’s not too impressive if all uv seen is ur hubby’s white clitty lmaoo

<stoppp I told you to not be mean to him!! I already feel bad enough

>why? He said he wanted you to get knocked up by a black guy

<i know but still I don’t WANNA cheat on him we just want a baby, besides he probably already feels bad for not being able to get me pregnant

>well it ain’t cheating if he knows about it

<true. Still, I just wanna be happy with him

>won’t he be happy if you both cum to me then?

<yeah, but I’m not with him now

Your eyes widened as you saw the picture your wife sent him. It was her, right on your bed, totally naked

with legs spread wide. Her hair was a mess, her makeup was smudged, and her eyes wide and crying. Her mouth was limply open with drooling lips. Inside her soaking pussy was her entire fist.

>holy shit >???

<I usually wait till we’re in bed but I just can’t help it. I called in sick for work and I’ve been fucking myself to black guys all day

>porn or over text?

He sent a video of him jerking his huge Dick off. You could see his shredded abs and the huge throbs of his cockhead.

<guys I’ve texted. I don’t watch porn, since I only like the really professional stuff, and we don’t have enough money to pay

>why don’t you make him

<? because I’m not a bitch?

>you’re a total bbc slut though

<I know...

She sent a video of herself crying as she fisted herself.

>hurts?

<lke a mothfcurker

She typed like she wasn’t even looking at the screen, which she probably wasn’t

>to hubby’s white dick or my big black cock

<uknwo the asnawer aaahole

>just wanna be sure you’re mine babe

<not urs < u just gunna knock <me up

>maybe I should fight your hubby to see who gets you

<pls dpnt <u kno he’l llose

<I wnt him to havr me

That nearly made you cum. Your loving wife admitting that the hot black guy she was texting could easily beat you up. But she admitted she still wanted to be with you! She didn’t want to cheat. She just wanted a big, strong, baby. And this affirmed the best way to assure that was for him to be black.

>aight babe, but he better not stop me from fuckin u

<I won’t let im lmaoooo

>good >:)

He sent a picture of his naked, muscular body in the mirror. His cock hung down to his knees.

<sjdjdkfjd cummijbgfgg

She sent a video of herself, right where you sat stroking yourself. She pulled her fist out of her pussy and let her hips involuntarily thrust, her cunt clench, and her hole squirt. She dropped the camera, squirting right over it. As she picked it up to end the video, she laughed.

You didn’t even bother reading the texts after that. You just crawled over the bed and put your hand on the damp cover. She didn’t even clean up after she came. You leaned your head down to smell it. It was a stronger smell than you were used to. Probably because you rarely made her cum.

But you just couldn’t help yourself but to bend over and lick the damp fabric. It tasted sweet. You’d never put much effort into really eating your wife out. Maybe if you did that she wouldn’t be turning to a black man for pleasure...

You shook your head. She’s doing it to get a baby- because they’re more fertile. That’s all. Not more pleasing. That’s why she made it very clear to him that she still wanted to have you. Besides, she loves you. It’s not like rabbits are the best animal because they have high fertility, right?

Then again, she also said she didn’t just want a baby, but a big and strong one. A black one. But- you could be as big or strong as any black guy, right? In theory. Then again... they did all seem bigger and stronger, just as a rule. They were tall. Well-built, even when not buff. They had a manly smell and huge hands. They were better at pretty much every sport you watched. Was she watching sports right now?

You nervously came in your hand. Sticky cum got between your fingers, making your cock all grimy as the weak load dried. You hobbled to the bathroom to wash it all off with cold water. The cold made your cock shrink even more.

As you walked back into the bedroom, your flaccid penis was at most an inch out of your crotch, with your balls a tight little sack without much impressive definition. You were horrifically embarrassed when you saw your fully clothed wife in there too.

“Oh!” she giggled, prudishly putting her hand over her mouth as she looked at your less than perfect package, “I was just looking for my phone! Did you take it in here?” she teased.

You said you did.

“Oh- uh-” her big blue eyes looked worried, “did you look at it?”

You told the truth like an obedient little hubby.

“With the guy you picked out with me? How saw how much I like him, right? I’m sorry for not telling you about how my day went honestly.”

You forgave her instantly. She still loved you, so what did it matter if she prefers a huge hung black stud to your underperforming little white thing. In your head you called it a peepee. That was a good word for it.“Thank you, baby,” she walked up to you and hug you, “Please don’t stop loving me.”

You told her you never would. If she never touched even one of your four little inches ever again and humiliated you infront of everyone you knew with her black lovers and mixed babies you’d still love her, you thought.

“I love you so much,” then she looked at you and smiled, “and I really wanna get blacked. Like, ASAP. I can’t wait. Did you see how fucking huge he was?” she giggled giddily.

You agreed as your little penis got just a little bigger against her jeans.

“Aww, I can see you like that down there,” she cooed. She bent over to be face to face with it, “how’s my favorite little dickie?” she patted it with one finger all lovey dovey, “aww, so cute! Are you excited to see me blacked, are you little guy?” she kissed the tip of it and stood up.

You told her that, even though you just came, you were already close again.

“Oh!” she apologized, “Sorry, didn’t mean to. I’ll suck you off if you want me to, babe.”

What would a good white cuckold hubby do?

You told her no. First, you wanted to schedule a meeting with Malik.

“Ooh- I like the way you think babe!” she kissed you deeply as she cupped your pale balls, “C’mon, go get your phone, if we’re lucky I’ll have his black dick in me by Saturday!”

Polls in the comments!

#bbc #story #interracial

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helloemptyset · 5 years

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description and part of story under cut

31 Day Horror House : Days 24 + 25 : a young child monster (or several) + a nanny or on-site schoolteacher

Again, starting from the lobby, you choose a destination on the map, this time a stairway. The map doesn't say if the staircase goes up or down, but you guess it doesn't matter, as long as you can figure out whether it correlates to the other scraps of map you have.

The halls seem less 'stressed' this go around, or maybe you didn't have to walk as long, since the staircase seems to have been under your nose the entire time. It went up, and as you walk up a flight, a bell rings loud enough to shake your teeth. It rings again as you reach the top, then again as you make it into the main hallway, causing you to fall to the now tiled floor.

From your vantage point of the floor, the tiles seem have a sweeter, happier feeling than the tiled hall of the first floor, the white speckled with orange and green in the same speckled shape as fish flakes. The walls have wallpaper now: What you read as the twilight zone of the oceanic zone scale, filled with fish you semi-recognize and some completely alien. Standing was proving to be difficult, the bell having knocked your sense of balance out of sorts, and you manage to drag yourself a little further across the smooth tile with your hands.

You don't make it far before you hear strange slappy sounds in front of you, but you aren't able to turn your head enough to see it. Taking a moment to stop, you pick yourself up onto your knees, quickly falling flat on your butt as you stare right ahead. Two doors, both open and streaming happy yellow light, are in the hallway in front of you, and in the very middle of the hall is a small, child-like... thing.

It looks like someone stuck a remora fish and a stingray together into something soft and baby-shaped. It wobbles on its little feet, head swaying gently on its rolled neck, and flaps its little arm-fins in the air for a moment before softly humming, the noise sounding as if pushed from its chest.

Before you can say something, it walks off into one of the open doors, and another sticks its face out of the other door. You wave, and it waves back, releasing a wet gurgle from its flat, wrinkly face.

There's something disheartening about running into children in a place like this, and as you're thinking about it, someone else much, much bigger walks into view.

"Oh, you found someone..." The voice, emerging more as a hum you think you can translate, sounds surprised in a calm, proud way, and as you look up, you see someone that seemed to just be an adult of whatever species of remora-ray-baby you've run into. Taller, wearing clothes, and with an unnerving design of a face on the underside of her... chin?

"Good afternoon, visitor. Welcome to our class." She says as she approaches, reaching out a flipper-arm to you. You grab it as gently as you can, surprised at how rough her skin feels as she pulls you up. "I see you're a little height-sick."

The two children wander around your feet as you wobble, holding onto the teacher until you feel you can stand properly. She pats your arm with her other flipper, and one of the babies slaps your leg to copy her, making the other go and slap that baby. They end up rolling on the ground, slapping at each other's bellies until the teacher walks between them.

"Now, children, back to class." She shuffles them into a classroom, and beckons you to follow. The room is bright and covered in ocean-based educational materials of all sorts, from posters to toys to little rugs showing the bottom of an ocean floor. There are only two desks, but the floor is soft and clean enough that you sit down beside the two babies.

As you look around, you notice something disturbing. While three of the walls are normal, with bright, happy posters and a large, very used whiteboard, the one at the very back of the room looked like some sort of sea creature's skin. It twitched on occassion, and you watch it squirm and move as if trapped. You couldn't be sure what sort of sea animal it belonged to, but you assumed a whale, as it took up the entire wall of the average sized classroom. It looked pocked with large markings.

"We don't have a lot here, but it is nice isn't it?" The teacher says, walking around the classroom. Her fin slides along a wall. "My school - Small as it is... It's the world to me. I just feel I can't teach much besides my knowledge of the ocean."

The babies make hissing sounds, turning in their stools to watch the teacher.

"My children are so young, so this is fine as a beginning... but they'll grow, and they'll need more to learn." She laughs sadly, something like a growl, "I just wish I had more resources."

You think for a moment, pulling out the map. The library is a little ways from there... But you show her, startled when she pulls the map out of your hands.

"Where in the world did you get this? This is amazing." She takes it to her desk, laying it flat atop her mass of stapled papers. "I've never explored in fear my children would get hurt in the wandering... But this would change everything."

You offer to copy it for her, and she shakes her head, rolling it up with the help of her desk.

"I have a copy machine! I'll give it right back. Just watch the children for me." And without letting you agree or anything, she walks off, leaving you with the babies.

They take to slapping you reassuringly like their teacher... mother? Did, though hard enough to sting. You sorta just lay there and let them, wiggling to provide a moving target.

After many slaps, they give up, laying on the ground next to you. There's something serene about the feeling of laying on the classroom ground, the heavy sound of a distant, slow heartbeat filling the air.

You don't realize you'd fallen asleep until a paper falls on your face, unable to sit up because the babies had moved to lay on your torso, splayed out and gurgling.

"Good job getting them to rest, visitor. I've copied the map for our use." She kneels, petting her children. "Thank you for widening our horizons. I don't think I could ever thank you enough for this."

The babies chirp and gurgle as she pushes them off, rolling along the soft ground, and she helps you up yet again.

She starts class up again once the children are awake enough to pay attention, and as she teaches, you smile and give her a wave as you leave. You check your map, seeing she's added where her classroom is, and make your way back to the stairs.

You feel more... you, than you have in ages.

[ image 1: two small creatures that look like vaguely humanoid mixtures of sea rays and some sort of odd sucker-fish. their faces are flat, with a bright pink color around their wrinkled 'mouths', which just look like raisined-up skin. their legs are fat and end in tiny feet, and they have a short fat tail behind them. their arms are flat and line the side of their bodies like the fins of a ray, and they have three gills on either side. the skin around their 'neck' is squished up, forming a soft roll. they're a dark grey-blue with blue polka dots on their back, and blue linings on the tips of their toes and tail. their belly is grey, the coloration stretching to circle their mouth. one stands up, fins held out, and one sits on the ground, head slightly turned to the viewer.

image 2: an adult version of the vaguely humanoid mix of sea ray and sucker-fish. her sucker-face looks straight up, no longer flat but protruding a little ways from her head. her underbelly markings have formed the vaguest of humanoid faces, two wide circles for eyes and a large, slightly upturned oval, forming something that looks at least a bit like smiling. she is wearing a collared, open tunic that is shorter in the front than the back, a seam in the front for velcroing closed. it is different shades of aqua-green, with little light brown stars on the fabric inside the border. she's also wearing a small string of pearls. her pants are deep grey, and come down at different lengths. she says, 'My school - small as it is...' in a very, very light green square speech bubble. ]

#31 day horror house #original #body horror #very long story again...#long post #trypophobia #not sure how to tag these guys

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rebelquilts512 · 5 years

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Howls of the Past... and the Future

The long awaited sequel to Through the Fire is here! Also known as Part 2 of my Phoenix AU, or my Kanan Lives AU.

This took longer than I anticipated and ended up longer than I anticipated. I hope it’s worth the wait.

There are songs in this and they will be credited at the end.

This is over 14,750 words and around 75% of it is flashbacks. Hope you enjoy it.

Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated.

After they went around with introductions, everyone involved in the attack had gathered around to exchange stories of what they'd been up to.

“So let me get this straight,” Kanan was saying. “You had a vision of the Lothal Jedi Temple, convinced Sabine, Zeb, and Rex to help you get to the Jedi Temple, which was under Imperial excavation, snuck into the temple, touched a couple murals, then had to run as the temple collapses, after which it disappears, taking the Imperial excavation crew with it,”

There was a pause.

“Well when you put it like that it sounds crazy,” Ezra replied.

“It was crazy, Ezra,” Sabine said, giving him a look.

“Hey,” Ezra held up his hands. “The Empire can't find out anymore of the temple’s secrets, and they're short an excavation crew,”

“Still,” Hera put in. “Ezra, what you did was risky, and you don't know how bad it could have gone,”

“I don’t know,” Kasmir said from his seat. “From what I've heard this kid can handle anything,”

“Kasmir, you're not helping,” Kanan groaned, rubbing at the burns on the side of his neck.

“Hey, I remember some the crazy plans you had back in the day would…” Kasmir suddenly trailed off. He, along with everyone else, was staring at Kanan, or rather, what was behind him.

“What's wrong?” Kanan asked. Then the white Lothwolf exhaled, making his hair ruffle.

Kanan slowly turned around.

“Dume,” the Lothwolf breathed.

Kanan froze. The rest of the Ghost crew, Kasmir, Kleeve, Kallus, and the clones, who all knew about Kanan's old name, stared at the wolf in shock. The rest of the group looked terrified, and half of them were reaching for their weapons.

“What do you want?” Kanan asked.

“Follow,” the Lothwolf answered.

The wolf turned around and started walking. Kanan stood up and did as he was told. Hera, Ezra, Sabine, and Zeb exchanged glances before getting up and following him. Chopper rolled up behind them. Everyone else stayed where they were and watched them go.

***

The white wolf lead them into the cave Ezra, Zeb, Sabine, and Kanan remembered from when the white Lothwolf took them to this hemisphere.

The wolf stopped by the cave painting, the one with the temple, the Jedi, and the wolves. The wolf put one paw on the wall and tilted his head, gesturing for them to do the same.

He must’ve done something in the Force, because Kanan got the message and came up to place his hands on the wall.

Ezra put his hands on the wall next, standing between Kanan and the Lothwolf.

Then Hera came up on Kanan's other side and put her hands on the wall.

Sabine and Zeb looked at each other before taking spots on the other side of Hera, farthest away from the Lothwolf, and doing the same.

They all closed their eyes and suddenly it seemed like they were falling.

***

When they landed, even Kanan could see the grassy Lothal plains and rock spires that filled their view.

There was smoke in the distance. Then the thrum of speeder engines filled the air. A single speeder bike appeared from the direction of the smoke and the crew got the distinct impression that they were watching a flashback.

A human woman was driving the bike. She had chin-length brown hair and amber skin and was wearing a silvery-white cloak. She held a bundle protectively against her chest as she sped across the plains.

The roar of speeder engines got louder as a group of assorted beings on their own bikes and speeders followed her, at a distance that implied they were chasing her.

“Dume!” the Aqualish leading the group shouted at her.

{Kanan's eyes widened at the mention of that name, so did Hera’s, and Sabine's. Ezra gasped and Zeb’s jaw dropped. It seemed like this flashback had something to do with Caleb Dume’s family, Kanan's family.}

The woman looked nervously behind her. When she saw the size of the group chasing her, her eyes filled with fear and she pushed her speeder bike to go faster.

One of the goons fired at her. She barely managed to dodge the shot and darted into a cluster of rock spires. She weaved through them in an attempt to lose her pursuers. It only half worked. While the bigger speeders were unable to get through, most of the bikes kept up the chase.

Finally, the woman managed to temporarily lose them. She slowed her bike down until she stopped. She pulled her bundle away from her chest and looked down at it, then she sighed in relief.

The white Lothwolf appeared a few yards in front of her. He stood still for a few moments before he turned around and started walking.

There was a shout from behind the woman. She turned around and saw that her pursuers were starting to track her back here. The Lothwolf turned its head back; his eyes conveyed a promise of safety. The woman turned her speeder bike back on and followed the Lothwolf. The Lothwolf started running as the goons got closer. The woman followed the wolf until he disappeared into a cave. She made a move to follow, but then a blaster shot hit the back of her bike, causing it to spin out of control as it entered the cave.

There was a flash of blue light.

The scene changed and the speeder bike came spinning out of a different cave, preceded by another blue flash, and into view. The woman fell off and started rolling, practically wrapping her body around her bundle. She stopped when her head hit a rock and she went still; her bundle rolled out of her arms.

The bundle let out a whimper, surprising everyone. The white Lothwolf appeared and nudged it with his nose. A little arm emerged from the blankets and the crew got a look at the baby inside the bundle. It couldn't be more than a few months old and had the same brown hair and amber skin as its mother, and was now crying.

A brown Lothwolf came to see what was making all the noise. Following her were two pups; one was brown with gray mixed in, and the other was gray with brown mixed in. The brown Lothwolf, clearly a mother, took one look at the baby bundle and started trying to free the baby from the blankets. The white Lothwolf helped her.

Once most of the blankets were off, the brown wolf laid down on her side. The white wolf helped her move the baby so it was in a perfect position to nurse. The baby found a nipple, stopped crying, and started eating.

Certain members of the Ghost crew worried that the wolf's own pups, who were twice the baby's size, wouldn't take kindly to a strange creature drinking their mother's milk. To the crew’s surprise however, the pups calmly walked up to the baby and started sniffing it.

Eventually, they’re curiosity was satisfied. They laid down on either side of the baby and rested their muzzles on their front paws.

The next thing the crew saw was the woman again. She was still unconscious, but it was clear some time had passed. The white Lothwolf touched his nose to her forehead and she started to come back to consciousness.

The woman started feeling around her, searching for something. After about a minute of frantic searching, the woman started to panic. “Caleb!” she screamed. “Caleb!”

{Zeb and Sabine's jaws dropped, Ezra and Hera gasped, and Kanan looked like he was about to have a heart attack.}

The woman found her baby sleeping up against the brown wolf with the pups. She scrambled over and picked him up. When she saw that he was okay, she sighed. “Aren't you a strong boy,” she cooed, kissing him on the forehead.

That's when the baby woke up. He let out a tiny little baby yawn and opened his eyes.

Their teal color was the final confirmation the Ghost crew needed. The baby was Kanan. They were watching Kanan's childhood before the Jedi Temple, which was apparently connected to the Lothwolves.

Caleb smiled when he saw his mother. He laughed and reached up towards her face. She gave him a finger to hold and took the opportunity to look around their surroundings.

The rock spires surrounding them formed an oval shaped clearing, with a couple of openings into the prairie beyond, and it was full of Lothwolves.

The white Lothwolf appeared by her side, startling her. “You!” she yelped, jumping a little. She took one more look around; at the other wolves, who were relaxing or playing; at the small stream that made a pool in between two rocks; at the cave she came through; and at her damaged speeder. She looked at the white Lothwolf again. “You...you saved us. Why?”

“Dume,” the Lothwolf answered.

“I..I don't understand,” the woman hesitated. “I mean… my name is Rebekka Dume, but...how am I important to you?””

“Dume,” the Lothwolf repeated, leaning forward to point his muzzle at Caleb, who laughed and patted his nose with his hand.

“Caleb?” Rebekka asked. “Why do you care about him? He's barely three months old!”

The white Lothwolf sat down and cocked its head to one side. His expression read ‘You'll have to wait to find out’.

Then, Caleb started fussing.

“Oohhhh, what's the matter?” Rebekka asked, bouncing and rocking him in her arms. “Are you hungry?”

She checked. He wasn't.

Next, she turned him over and sniffed his bottom. She wrinkled her nose. “Someone needs a diaper chaaange,” she said in a sing-song voice.

After re-establishing her hold on him, Rebekka walked back to her speeder bike and grabbed one of the bags strapped to it. She sat down on the ground and took what was probably a changing mat out of the bag. Once it was smoothed out, she laid Caleb on it. There were a few more things she had to get out of the bag before she unbuttoned his onesie. Then she proceeded to change his diaper.

Caleb, for his part, put a hand in his mouth and lay mostly still while he was being changed.

Once he had a new diaper on, Rebekka cleaned her hands with some sanitizing wipes. Then she picked up the dirty diaper with two fingers and looked around bewildered.

“Now where am I supposed to put this?” She wondered aloud.

One of the pups, the gray one with brown added in, walked over, took her sleeve lightly with their teeth, and tugged. The pup pulled her over to a small dark space between two rocks. It released her sleeve and started digging.

When they had dug a good-sized hole, the pup sat back and cocked its head towards the hole.

Rebekka looked at the diaper in her hand, then down at the hole. “You want me to bury it?” She asked. She thought for a moment. “Well, I guess it is biodegradable,” She tossed the dirty diaper into the hole.

The wolf pup refilled the hole, letting Rebekka scoop in a few handfuls of dirt. When they were finished, Rebekka rushed back to Caleb.

Caleb was doing fine. The other pup had laid down beside him. They had a front paw across his chest and was resting their muzzle on top of his head.

When they noticed Rebekka, the pup moved its paw and got up, allowing her to easily reach him.

Rebekka picked Caleb up, checking him over before looking down at the pup, who had been joined by the sibling that helped her. She kissed his check. “I think you made friends, sweet boy,” she told him, pressing their foreheads together.

{Zeb couldn't resist snorting at the nickname. Ezra made a little ‘aww’ noise and Hera and Sabine giggled. Kanan was slightly surprised, and a little embarrassed, knowing the crew probably wasn't going to stop teasing him about it for a while.}

Rebekka held him in one arm while she picked up all the diaper changing supplies. Then she put the bag back on her bike. Her eyes landed on the smoking hole where the bike had been shot. She sighed. “I'm not getting back home am I?” She asked no one in particular. “It’ll be months before the Edgeherd Gang gives up, and I'm not getting far on this bike,” She reached into her cloak and pulled out what appeared to be a purse of credits. She looked inside it. “I think I have enough to buy passage off-world,” She sighed again. “But where would I go? And how will I know if it's safe?” she asked, hugging Caleb close to her chest and kissing the top of his head.

The white Lothwolf appeared beside her again.

Rebekka jumped and almost dropped her credit purse. “Would you please stop doing that!” She scolded. “Especially when I'm holding Caleb! Since he's so important to you!” She added, annoyed, shifting Caleb to one shoulder.

“Stay,” the Lothwolf said. “Here,”

Rebekka tilted her head to one side. “You want us to stay here?” She asked. Then she started to ramble. “But… How? What will we eat? I mean… I have some provisions, but they won't last long. And I'll run out of diapers. WHAT EXACTLY IS YOUR PLAN?!”

“Trust. Me.” the Lothwolf replied.

They stared each other down for a minute. The wolf’s yellow eyes against Rebekka’s sea green ones.

Eventually, Rebekka relented. “Fine, but you'd better know what you're doing. And if my son and I are going to stay here, I going to have to know what to call you. Do you have a name?”

The white wolf seemed to hesitate a moment, then he replied. “Ashla,”

Rebekka nodded. “Alright, Ashla,” She turned to where the brown Lothwolf was standing with her pups. “Do they have names?”

Ashla shook his head no.

“Well then,” Rebekka walked to them and reached out to stroke the brown wolf’s head. “Would you mind terribly if I gave you and your pups names?” She asked.

The Lothwolf closed her eyes in acceptance.

“Alright,” Rebekka replied. “Hmm....I think I'll call you...Maica,”

Maica licked Rebekka's arm, as if she was agreeing with her new name.

Maica’s pups started jumping up on Rebekka. Either they were excited to get names, or they wanted to get closer to Caleb, who was smiling and waving an arm at them. One of them managed to lick his foot, making him laugh.

“Do you want names too?” Rebekka asked with a smile. She squatted down to their level. They immediately stopped jumping and waited excitedly. Rebekka let them give Caleb attention while she checked their genders. “Well you're a boy,” she told the mostly brown pup. “And you're a girl,” she told his mostly gray sister.

Rebekka started petting the boy while thinking. “Your name will be….Teman,”

Teman gently licked her cheek, like he was thanking her for the name.

She moved to his sister. “And you can be...Sora,”

Sora energetically licked her whole face, with much less restraint than her brother.

Rebekka laughed. “Well I think this will work out just fine,”

***

The scene faded away and the Ghost crew wondered if that was all they were going to see.

***

Their question was answered when a new scene appeared. It was still the Lothwolf compound, but it was clear someone was living there now. There appeared to be a wash-line hanging between two rock spires; what looked to be some sort of hide tanning station leaning against another spire; an area that looked like a fire pit, with a bunch of cooking utensils stored beside it, was in between the two; on the other side of the washline was what was probably a garden; Rebekka's speeder bike was sitting with a crate attached to it by what the Ghost crew decided to call “the portal cave”; and a small cave entrance the Ghost crew hadn't noticed before appeared to have some significance.

They didn't see Rebekka or Caleb until they heard a laugh.

Rebekka was kneeling by a tub of soapy water. Her sleeves were rolled up and her hair was held back with a handkerchief. She was the one laughing. The Ghost crew wasn’t sure why until they noticed Caleb, who looked around five months old now, sitting in the tub. It took a second before they realized that Rebekka was giving him a bath.

Rebekka took a cup, and poured it over his head, using one hand to keep the water out of his eyes. Caleb smiled and splashed around when she was done.

Rebekka poured one final cup of water down his back before she took him out of the water and wrapped him in a towel.

“Now you’re all clean!” she cooed, cuddling him to her chest and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

After drying him off, Rebekka put Caleb in a diaper and dressed him in an outfit that vaguely looked like it was made of animal skins. Then she picked him up and stood.

It was then that the Ghost crew finally saw the Lothwolves in the compound. Maica, Teman, and Sora were lying nearby.

As soon as Caleb was dressed, Sora and Teman got up and walked over to him.

Caleb made happy baby noises and tried to reach down to them.

“Oh no you don’t!” Rebekka scolded, turning Caleb away from them. “I get to have my clean baby for a few minutes, thank you,”

The statement did not affect the pups’ behavior. They continued to try to get Caleb’s attention. Caleb, for his part, was trying to get down to them. Eventually, Caleb realised he wasn’t being let down and started to pout, and then to whimper.

Rebekka found herself up against three equally adorable sets of puppy dog eyes.

She signed. “Well, I tried,” She admitted.

Rebekka walked over to where the grass was shorter and set Caleb down. She produced a toy that looked to be made of Lothal grass and animal bones and gave it to him. Caleb laughed triumphantly.

Caleb, Teman, and Sora started to play, although it was mostly just Caleb alternating between chewing on the toy and waving it in front of the pups’ faces as they followed it with their heads. Rebekka walked over to a basket by the entrance to the smaller cave and took a few pieces of cloth out of it, which again resembled animal skins, and grabbed a needle and thread. She leaned up against the nearest rock and started to sew.

They stayed like that for a while. Rebekka sewed while Caleb and the pups played.

The Ghost crew’s view changed to the sun. It moved from the position of mid-morning to around high noon.

When they looked back at Caleb and Rebekka, Rebekka was putting her sewing away, as Caleb was starting to get fussy. She walked over to him and picked him up.

“I think it’s time for your lunch, sweet boy,” she told him.

She walked back to the rock she was leaning against earlier and sat down. She moved her shirt to expose one of her breasts and brought Caleb to it. He nursed while Rebekka hummed and brushed her fingers through his hair. When he finished one breast, she adjusted her shirt and moved him to the other.

Caleb finished eating a few minutes later. Rebekka fixed her shirt and propped him up against her shoulder. She patted his back until he burped. Then she set him down on her lap and tickled his tummy. Caleb laughed.

“Alright, now it’s Mommy’s turn for lunch,” Rebekka said as she got up and carried him over to the small cave and went inside.

“Let’s go see what leftovers we have,” the crew heard Rebekka say as she went further into the cave.

She returned a few minutes later with a covered pot in one arm and Caleb in the other. She walked over to the fire pit and hung the pot over it before she started the fire, which she made sure Caleb stayed away from.

After a few minutes, Rebekka took off the pot’s lid, revealing that there was soup inside, which she stirred with a ladle from the container of cooking utensils. Then she put the ladle down and went back into the small cave. She came back out with a bowl and a small spoon. She ladled a portion of the soup into the bowl, replaced the lid, and sat down.

Rebekka took a spoonful and moved it towards her mouth. Caleb, from his position on her lap, tried to grab the spoon.

Rebekka giggled. “This is Mommy’s food. You already ate,” she told him, patting his head.

After Rebekka finished eating, she gathered her bowl, spoon, the ladle, and Caleb and carried them into the small cave.

{The Ghost crew actually got to see inside it this this time.}

Inside the cave, it was much bigger than the small entrance made it seem, and almost looked like a room of a house. There was a large pile of handmade pillows and blankets that took up most of the floor, a tunnel that seemed to lead farther into the rock was across from the entrance, a stack of assorted dishes and cutlery sat in one corner, and a good sized bucket was near the door.

Rebekka put her dirty dishes in the bucket, then she went back outside and returned with the pot. She carried it, and Caleb, into the tunnel. It was surprisingly well lit, for a tunnel in a cave surrounded by rock. She walked down the tunnel for a couple minutes, passing by an entrance to a cavern or two, and when she came upon a fork in the tunnel she took the left path.

A few yards into the new tunnel, Caleb shivered and clung harder to his mother.

Rebekka set the pot down and hugged him close. “It’s okay, Caleb. It’s just a little cold, nothing you can’t handle, sweet boy,”

She wrapped him in her shawl and grabbed the pot again. She continued walking until she reached a small semi-dark cavern.

It was there that it became apparent why Caleb had shivered. The cavern walls were streaked with ice. They could even clearly see Rebekka’s breath. All around the floor were assorted food storage containers like the pot Rebekka was carrying, and slabs of home-butchered meat hung from a rack by the far wall. It was almost as if this was some sort of ice cave that Rebeka used as a cooling unit.

Rebekka placed the pot she was carrying down beside another pot. “There,” she sighed. Then she looked down at Caleb. “Now we can go back outside,”

Rebekka walked out the cavern.

The next time the Ghost crew saw her, she and Caleb had exited the cave and were being greeted by Sora and Teman, who had been spending the time since Rebekka fed Caleb with their mother. They all sat down in the middle of the grass and began to play some sort of game.

The Ghost crew got a view of the sun again. This time it was descending. Right before sunset the sky suddenly darkened, clouded over and there was a flash of lightning and a loud clap of thunder. A thunderstorm had started.

Rebekka and Caleb took shelter inside the small cave. They were huddled together in the blanket pile. Caleb cried every time the thunder boomed.

“Shhh, shhh,” Rebekka soothed, rubbing his back and rocking him back and forth, “It’s alright. It’s just a little thunder, nothing that’ll hurt you,”

Another thunderclap sounded and Caleb buried his face further into her neck and cried.

Rebekka sighed and reached down her shirt. She pulled out what looked like a small sound recorder attached to a string that hung around her neck.

She activated it and the sound of some sort of string instrument started to block out the sounds of the storm. Caleb, still sniffling, lifted his head and looked curiously at the music player.

Then Rebekka started to sing:

“You had your maps drawn,

You had other plans

To hang your hopes on,

Every road they lead you down felt so wrong,

So you found another way,

You've got a big heart,

The way you see the world

It got you this far,

You might have some bruises,

And a few scars,

But you know you're gonna be okay,

And even though you're scared,

You're stronger than you know,

If you're lost out where the lights are blinding,

Caught in all, the stars are hiding,

That's when something wild calls you home, home,

If you face the fear that keeps you frozen,

Chase the sky into the ocean,

That's when something wild calls you home, home,

Wo-o-OHHH

OH-OHHH

OH-OHHH-OH-oh

ohhh

ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-oh

ohhh

Ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-OH,

Wo-o-OHHH

OH-OHHH

OH-OHHH-OH-oh

ohhh

ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-oh

ohhh

Ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-OH,

Sometimes the past can,

Make the ground beneath you feel like quicksand,

You don't have to worry,

You reach for my hand,

Yeah I know you're gonna be okay,

You're gonna be okay,

And even if you're scared,

You're stronger than you know,

If you're lost out where the lights are blinding,

Caught in all, the stars are hiding,

That's when something wild calls you home, home,

If you face the fear that keeps you frozen,

Chase the sky into the ocean,

That's when something wild calls you home, home,

Wo-o-OHHH

OH-OHHH

OH-OHHH-OH-oh

ohhh

ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-oh

ohhh

Ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-OH,

Wo-o-OHHH

OH-OHHH

OH-OHHH-OH-oh

ohhh

ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-oh

ohhh

Ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-OH,

Calls you home,

If you're lost out where the lights are blinding,

Caught in all, the stars are hiding,

That's when something wild calls you home,

If you're lost out where the lights are blinding,

Caught in all, the stars are hiding,

That's when something wild calls you home, home,

If you face the fear that keeps you frozen,

Chase the sky into the ocean,

That's when something wild calls you home, home,

Wo-o-OHHH

OH-OHHH

OH-OHHH-OH-oh

ohhh

ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-oh

ohhh

Ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-OH,

Wo-o-OHHH

OH-OHHH

OH-OHHH-OH-oh

ohhh

ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-oh

ohhh

Ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-OH,

OH,”

Caleb calmed down during the song and now leaned his head against his mother’s shoulder with his eyes closed, clutching a lock of her hair in one hand.

Rebekka saw that Caleb was asleep and smiled. She leaned back against the pillows and kissed his forehead.

“Goodnight, sweet boy,” She said as she laid him down beside her, after untangling his hand from her hair. “I love you,”

***

The scene faded to black, and again the Ghost crew wondered if there was more.

***

Again, another scene appeared. Nothing in the Lothwolf compound appeared to have changed much this time.

Caleb, who now looked close to eight months old, was crawling around as Teman and Sora followed right behind him. Rebekka stood by the washline and was hanging up their laundry.

Eventually, after thoroughly exploring the open area he was in, Caleb wandered over to the fire pit. He approached the tall, narrow container of cooking utensils and, after failing to stand, sat down in front of it. Then he started reaching up to try and grab something from the container, all the while making little straining noises. Sora and Teman sat on either side of him and watched, occasionally poking the container with their noses.

Suddenly, the container appeared to have had enough of their shenanigans and tipped over, spilling its contents out. One particular knife flipped out and sliced across Caleb’s open left palm.

Then Caleb started screaming.

Rebekka dropped the shirt she was holding and came running.

“Oh, Caleb!” she cried, pulling him into her lap. “What happened?” She took his bleeding hand and tried to brush some of the blood away, but it was quickly replaced with more blood. “Oh I need the medkit,” she moaned.

Teman stood up and trotted over to the small cave and entered. He came out carrying something in his mouth before Rebekka had fully stood up. Of course, her progress was slowed by Caleb’s flailing and screaming, and his bleeding hand.

Rebekka saw what he was carrying and her eyes widened in surprise. She took a few steps toward him and knelt down. “Thank you, Teman,” she said as she took the medkit from his mouth.

She opened it and started digging through it. Once she found all she was looking for, Rebekka started cleaning the blood off Caleb’s hand. With most of the blood gone, the cut could be seen. It started at the base of Caleb’s left index finger and went down in a slight curve to the bottom of the opposite side of his palm. Rebekka covered it with an appropriately sized bacta patch and wrapped it in gauze.

“There,” Rebekka said when she was done. She finished with kissing his palm. “Is that better?”

Caleb was still crying, quietly now, but still crying.

“Oooh,” Rebekka cooed. She picked him up and stood.

Teman took the medkit in his mouth again and returned it to the cave.

Rebekka carried Caleb over to one of the rocks and sat down with her back against it. She pulled Caleb up to her chest, hugging him tight. Caleb snuggled into her hold and buried his face in her chest. Rebekka started humming. She rubbed his back and rocked him back and forth.

The humming turned into singing, but it was a different song than the one she sang before. This time Rebekka sang:

“Come stop your crying,

It will be alright,

Just take my hand,

And hold it tight,

I will protect you

From all around you,

I will be here,

Don't you cry,”

Caleb had managed to grab Rebekka’s music player. Rebekka gently took it from his hands and activated it. Light percussion started to play that grew into a orchestra as she continued to sing:

“For one so small,

You seem so strong,

My arms will hold you,

Keep you safe and warm,

This bond between us,

Can't be broken,

I will be here,

Don't you cry,

'Cause you'll be in my heart,

Yes, you'll be in my heart,

From this day on,

Now and forever more,

You'll be in my heart,

No matter what they say,

You'll be here in my heart,

Always,”

“Always,” Rebekka whispered, kissing the top of his head. Caleb had finally stopped crying and seemed to have calmed down.

They stayed cuddling like that for a while. At some point, Caleb grabbed a lock of Rebekka’s hair and held onto it.

Later that day, a dark grey Lothwolf appeared, dragging a lothelope by its hind legs. They dropped it a few feet in front of Rebekka.

Rebekka looked up. “Thank you, Venari. You’re just in time,” she said as she stood up. She carried Caleb over to an empty crate near the garden and placed him inside it. “Stay,” she told him firmly, pointing a finger inside the crate.

Caleb looked up at her innocently.

Teman and Sora appeared on opposite sides of the crate and put their front paws up on the top edge.

Rebekka sighed. “Think you can keep him in there ‘til I’m done?” she asked, ruffling their heads.

Instead of answering (not that they technically could), Sora and Teman stuck their noses in the crate, at which Caleb laughed happily.

“Alright then,” Rebekka said. She walked into the cave and came out wearing a large smock and carrying half a dozen empty containers.

She produced a vibroknife and knelt beside the dead lothelope. She proceeded to gut the animal and skin it. Much to the shock of the Ghost crew.

She brought the pelt to her hide tanning station and draped it over a frame.

She returned to the carcass and continued to butcher it.

Once she divided the meat into separate piles, Rebekka put the meat into the containers.

Then Venari came and dragged the remains of the carcass away.

Rebekka removed her smock and cleaned her arms. Then she carried the full containers into the cave, presumably to put them in the cooling unit cavern, or whatever they were going to call it.

Rebekka returned a few minutes later. She walked over to the crate and lifted Caleb, who had fallen asleep, out. “Did you get bored in there, sweet boy?” she asked, kissing his cheek and waking him up.

Caleb yawned and threw his arms around her neck.

Rebekka laughed. “Do you wanna go play?”

Rebekka pulled out a blanket and spread it on the ground by the garden. She placed Caleb and a few toys on it before sitting down beside it.

Caleb explored the blanket, careful of his injured left hand, as Rebekka entertained him with the toys.

Sora and Teman came over and poked their noses into whatever Caleb was doing.

Rebekka was jingling a toy that looked vaguely like a purrgil with bells on its tentacles when Caleb rolled over. He batted at the bells as Teman and Sora licked his cheeks and hands.

Rebekka put the toy down and started tickling his tummy.

Caleb laughed. He grabbed one of her fingers in his right hand. This prompted her to use her free fingers to lift his shirt and give him a zerbert. Caleb laughed even louder and released his mother’s finger.

Maica appeared and settled down behind Rebekka, offering some shelter from the wind.

Caleb rolled back over and started crawling again.

Rebekka laid down on her side and watched him.

Eventually, Caleb crawled over to her. Rebekka took him in her arms and rolled onto her back. She sat him on her stomach. Her hair was splayed around her face as she looked up at him.

Caleb leaned over and placed his hands on her face.

Rebekka took one of his hands in her own and kissed it. “I love you so much, Caleb,” she told him. “And I always will,”

***

The scene faded to black again, and at this point the Ghost crew assumed that there would be more.

***

The next scene came soon after. The speeder bike and the crate attached to it were gone, and Rebekka was nowhere to be seen.

Teman and Sora were squating in the middle of the grass. Caleb, now looking between ten and eleven months old, was sitting between them. The crew watched as Caleb grabbed a handful of Sora’s ruff and a handful of Teman’s ruff. When his hands were secure, Teman and Sora started to stand, slowly, and after a brief struggle, Caleb did too.

Then Caleb started taking a few shakey steps. Sora and Teman slowly walked forward, enough so that they were both still beside Caleb.

Caleb made it a couple yards before he stumbled and lost his grip. He fell on his bottom, hard. Then he started crying.

Teman and Sora immediately turned around and started licking his tears away. After about a minute, Caleb was laughing and he reached for their ruffs again. He was up in a few seconds and they started walking again. This time, Caleb managed to walk all the way to one of the rock spires without falling again. But then he, and Sora and Teman, tried to turn.

Caleb slipped and bumped into Sora, who was on his right. He made a frustrated noise that was somewhere between a whine and a groan and stomped his foot angrily.

Teman turned and licked his cheek.

Taking a determined breath, Caleb straightened up and started walking again. Teman and Sora stayed beside him the whole time.

They walked around the compound for a while longer. Then there was a flash from the portal cave.

Rebekka came riding in on her speeder bike.

Seeing her, Caleb burst into a huge smile and tried to run towards her. Unfortunately, it appeared he wasn't quite ready for that, and he stumbled forward before continuing at a slower place.

By the time he'd made it to where she had parked, Rebekka had already dismounted and was watching him with a smile on her face, even when he gave up on walking a few yards away from her and let go of Sora and Teman to crawl the rest of the way.

When Caleb made it to her, Rebekka picked him up. “Were you walking?” she asked, lifting him above her head and pressing their foreheads together.

Caleb just laughed and waved his arms around.

{The Ghost crew offhandedly noticed that Caleb hand a scar on his left hand where he’d been cut the last time they’d seen him.}

“Oh, I’m so proud of you sweet boy,” Rebekka cooed, as she lowered him down to her hip. She kissed his nose on his way down.

Caleb smiled, reaching out to grab at her hair.

“Do you want to try in front of Mommy now?” she asked.

Caleb responded by starting to struggle to get down.

Rebekka laughed. “Okay, okay, I’ll put you down,”

Rebekka set him down and made sure he was standing steadily, before taking a few steps back. Then she squatted down and held out her arms.

“Come on, you can do it,” she encouraged.

Caleb looked down at his feet, up at his mother, then back down at his feet again. He took a tentative step forward, then another. He wobbled a few more steps before falling into Rebekka's arms.

“You did it!” Rebekka cheered. She hugged him and kissed his cheeks as she straightened up.

Caleb hugged her back. When he pulled away, he had Rebekka's music player and was biting it, showing off his four top teeth and two bottom ones.

Rebekka gave him a stern look and gently pried it from his mouth. Then she glanced back down at him and her face softened. “Well, I guess you deserve a song,” she said.

Rebekka activated it and the same string instrument the Ghost crew heard before started to play. Rebekka started swaying in time to the music.

It wasn't long before she started to sing:

“You had your maps drawn,

You had other plans

To hang your hopes on,

Every road they lead you down felt so wrong,

So you found another way,

You've got a big heart,

The way you see the world

It got you this far,

You might have some bruises,

And a few scars,

But you know you're gonna be okay,

And even though you're scared,

You're stronger than you know,”

Rebekka started dancing in place with Caleb in her arms.

“If you're lost out where the lights are blinding,

Caught in all, the stars are hiding,

That's when something wild calls you home, home,

If you face the fear that keeps you frozen,

Chase the sky into the ocean,

That's when something wild calls you home, home,”

Rebekka took a step to the side and started spinning around the compound as she continued to sing.

“Wo-o-OHHH

OH-OHHH

OH-OHHH-OH-oh

ohhh

ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-oh

ohhh

Ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-OH,

Wo-o-OHHH

OH-OHHH

OH-OHHH-OH-oh

ohhh

ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-oh

ohhh

Ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-OH,

OH”

Rebekka continued to dance around the compound.

“Sometimes the past can,

Make the ground beneath you feel like quicksand,

You don't have to worry,

You reach for my hand,

Yeah I know you're gonna be okay,

You're gonna be okay,

And even if you're scared,

You're stronger than you know,

If you're lost out where the lights are blinding,

Caught in all, the stars are hiding,

That's when something wild calls you home, home,

If you face the fear that keeps you frozen,

Chase the sky into the ocean,

That's when something wild calls you home, home,

Wo-o-OHHH

OH-OHHH

OH-OHHH-OH-oh

ohhh

ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-oh

ohhh

Ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-OH,

Wo-o-OHHH

OH-OHHH

OH-OHHH-OH-oh

ohhh

ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-oh

ohhh

Ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-OH,

Calls you home,

If you're lost out where the lights are blinding,

Caught in all, the stars are hiding,

That's when something wild calls you home,

If you're lost out where the lights are blinding,

Caught in all, the stars are hiding,

That's when something wild calls you home, home,

If you face the fear that keeps you frozen,

Chase the sky into the ocean,

That's when something wild calls you home, home,

Wo-o-OHHH

OH-OHHH

OH-OHHH-OH-oh

ohhh

ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-oh

ohhh

Ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-OH,

Wo-o-OHHH

OH-OHHH

OH-OHHH-OH-oh

ohhh

ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-oh

ohhh

Ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-OH,

OH,”

Rebekka stopped dancing and sighed. She sank down to a sitting position. “Wasn't that fun?” She asked Caleb, sitting him on her legs, with a smile.

Caleb laughed and clapped his hands.

Rebekka looked at him adoringly and kissed his forehead. “Don't ever forget how much I love you Caleb,” she said. “Because I always will,”

***

The scene faded away, and now the Ghost crew wondered what they were going to see next.

***

In the scene they were shown next, Rebekka had just pulled in on her speeder bike. She dismounted and grabbed her bag, looking around.

“Caleb!” she called. “I have a surprise for you!”

“Mama!” Caleb cried, appearing from behind a rock.

Rebekka smiled. “Oh, come here you,”

Caleb toddled over and Rebekka picked him up and kissed his cheek. She carried him over to a spot near the fire pit and sat him down.

Rebekka sat down in front of him and opened her bag. She took out a box and set it on the ground in front of her.

Caleb started to reach for the box, but Rebekka shook her head.

“You need to wait for it, sweet boy,” she said with a smile as she opened the box.

Rebekka reached in and pulled out a small cake, with white, green, and blue frosting, on a plate.

Caleb’s eyes widened as she placed it in front of him.

“Happy Birthday Caleb!” Rebekka cheered.

Caleb reached for the cake, but Rebekka scooted the plate back.

“Hold on. I need to sing first,” she insisted.

Then she started to sing:

“Happy Birthday to you,

Happy Birthday to you,

Happy Birthday dear Caleb,

Happy Birthday to you,”

Caleb waited a moment after she finished singing.

Then Rebekka enthusiastically shoved the cake in his direction. “Okay, now dig in!”

Caleb didn’t need to be told twice. He dug into the cake as soon as it was in his reach.

It wasn’t long before his face and hands were covered in frosting and cake crumbs.

{Zeb chuckled and Hera, Ezra, and Sabine covered their mouths to hide their giggles.}

Sora and Teman wandered over to see what Caleb was doing. Teman sat down on Caleb’s right and Sora sat down on Caleb’s left. Caleb laughed when he saw them and extended cake-filled hands towards each of them. Teman and Sora carefully ate the cake out of Caleb’s hands.

Rebekka laughed. “Caleb! It’s your birthday cake! You’re not suppose to share!” she scolded playfully.

Caleb ignored her and continued to give occasional bites of cake to Sora and Teman.

After about a minute of Caleb taking some time to eat the cake by himself, he looked up at his mother, who’d been sitting there smiling at him this whole time. Caleb grabbed a hunk of cake and stood up. He stepped around the rest of the cake and walked over to where Rebekka was sitting. Caleb then tried to shove the cake in Rebekka’s mouth.

Rebekka laughed, understanding what Caleb was trying to do, and let him feed her the cake.

“Mmmmm, thank you Caleb,” Rebekka cooed. “Now go finish your cake!”

Caleb smiled and walked back to his cake and sat down in between Sora and Teman. He buried his hands in his cake and started eating again.

Rebekka sighed. She pulled her knees up and draped her arms around them.

“This isn’t the way I originally pictured your first birthday, Caleb,” Rebekka admitted after a moment, while Caleb was still occupied with his cake. “I thought we’d be living in a nice little house and all our family and friends would be close by. You’d have friends that weren’t wolf pups,”

“Of course I still wouldn’t have made your cake myself,” She continued. “I can’t bake no matter how hard I try. Your father...” Rebekka paused to wipe a tear out of the corner of her eye. “Your father always said that I could make Croaker soup that could make a whole planet happy and roast fit for a king, but my pound cake was better off being used as a weight,”

Rebekka chuckled and sighed again. “He was always such a jokester,”

“We would have been married by now,” Rebekka lamented, letting out another chuckle. “He always wanted to be a father,”

Sora licked some frosting off Caleb’s cheek and he laughed.

Rebekka giggled and proceeded to talk about Caleb's father. “His name was Judah Braga. He worked as a docking controller, but then he got roped into working with one of the local gangs,”

Rebekka signed and shook her head. “Some gambling venture or something must not have panned out, because the next thing we knew, he owed the Edgeherd gang over 10,000 credits,” She paused to take a deep breath that almost caught in her throat. “They shot him when I was pregnant with you. I never even got a chance to tell him. After you were born, the Edgeherd came after me for the credits he still owed them,”

“So I guess they’re the reason we ended up here, huh Caleb?” Rebekka said after a moment.

Caleb, having finished his cake, toddled over and gave her a hug.

Rebekka smiled and kissed his cheek. Then she sat him on her lap and wiped the frosting and cake crumbs off his face and hands.

After he was cleaned up, Rebekka reached into her bag. “Now it’s time for your birthday present,” she said as she pulled out a larger box, this one wrapped in blue paper with a green bow.

Rebekka set it down in front of them and help Caleb rip off the paper. She opened the top and Caleb practically fell into the box. When his mom pulled him out he had fistfuls of tissue paper in his hands.

Rebekka reached her hand in and pulled out all the tissue paper. “Oooo,” she cooed as she pulled a toy hovertrain out of the box.

Caleb cheered and reached for his birthday present.

“You wanna play?” Rebekka asked cheerfully.

“Play!” Caleb cheered.

Rebekka laughed. “Okay, you can play with your new toy while Mommy cleans up,”

Caleb played with Teman, Sora, and his new hovertrain while Rebekka gathered up the boxes, paper, and the empty cake plate and set them by the firepit, probably so that she could burn them later.

When she finished, Rebekka walked over to where Caleb, Sora, and Teman were playing and joined them.

After a while, Caleb got tired (made apparent when he yawned) and snuggled up in Rebekka’s lap.

Rebekka smiled and kissed his forehead. “I love you, Caleb,” She said as he rubbed his eyes and started to fall asleep. “I always will,”

***

The scene faded to black and the Ghost crew waited for what they assumed would be the next scene.

***

The next scene gave them a clear view of the Lothwolf compound. They couldn't see anyone at first, but then they heard laughter.

Caleb came running into view, completely naked.

Rebekka appeared a few seconds later, running after him with a fistful of clothes. “Get back here you little hooligan!” She shouted.

{Ezra and Zeb burst out laughing, Kanan turned bright red, Hera covered her mouth with her hand to hide her giggle, and Sabine was tempted to put a hand over her eyes.}

Caleb just laughed again and continued to run.

Rebekka chased him around the compound.

Caleb managed to stay just out of her reach as he ran through the grass. He tramped through the garden, not caring if he trampled anything.

Rebekka followed, carefully stepping in between the rows.

Caleb ran under the clothesline with ease, but Rebekka got tangled in the clothes hanging from it.

While his mom was distracted, Caleb hid behind a rock a few yards away.

By the time Rebekka got untangled from the clothes, Caleb was out of her direct line of sight. She blew out a puff of air. “Caleb, not right now, sweet boy,” she said wearily. “Please, not today,”

Rebekka took a few steps away from the clothesline and glanced around. Not even a second later, she walked over and reached behind the rock Caleb was hiding behind.

“There you are,” She said as she picked him up and placed him on her hip. “We need to get you dressed,”

Rebekka carried Caleb over to a mat, presumably where she had been changing him before he took off.

Rebekka laid him down and started putting a diaper and pants on him.

There was a tooka doll lying about a foot or two away. Caleb tried to grab it, but it was about a foot out of his reach.

After about a minute of not being able to reach the toy, Caleb scrunched up his face in determination and concentration and extended his hand in the toy’s direction. A few seconds later, the tooka doll started to slide toward him.

{Ezra, Sabine, Zeb, and Hera all gasped. Kanan raised an eyebrow, but was mostly unsurprised. Growing up in the Jedi Temple, he knew that Force-sensitive children often showed signs early on, which was why the Jedi Order usually found them before they had a chance to have lasting memories of their families.}

Rebekka looked up just in time to see the tooka doll move the last few inches into Caleb’s hand. Once there, he pulled it to his chest and bit down on one ear.

Rebekka gasped and dropped the shirt she'd been preparing to put on him.

“Ca-aleb?” she sputtered. “Wha-what did you do?”

Caleb just stared up at her and clutched his toy.

Rebekka took a deep breath. “Well, I guess I’ll have to figure that out for myself,” She took the tooka doll out of Caleb's hands and deliberately placed it off the mat to her left, well out of Caleb's reach.

“Noooo!” Caleb whined, on the verge of tears, as his toy was taken away.

“Shhh, don't worry. You'll get back,” Rebekka soothed as she lifted him up to put his shirt on.

Caleb ignored her, stuck out his hand, and scrunched his face up again. Not a moment later, the tooka doll started moving in his direction.

This time, Rebekka had her eyes up and saw the toy move. Her eyes widened as it slid into Caleb’s hand again.

“Caleb,” Rebekka gasped. “Did...but...how… Did you just use the Force?”

Instead of answering her, Caleb sat up and lifted his arms off to Rebekka's right. “Ashwa!” He cheered.

Rebekka looked to her right and, indeed, Ashla had appeared beside her. “Ashla?” She asked. “Did you know about this?”

Ashla nodded his head.

Rebekka sighed and sat back on her heels. “What do I do?” She asked. “If he has the Force then the Jedi Order will want him, and I don't want to give him up,”

Her musings were interrupted when Caleb laughed. Ashla had leaned forward enough so Caleb could pat his nose. The laugh came when Ashla gently licked Caleb's forearm.

Rebekka giggled, then went back to her thoughts.

“Well, what's the likelihood that they'll find us here away?” She asked. “So I guess I shouldn’t worry too much about this yet,”

Ashla turned his head towards her. In doing so he turned away from Caleb, who protested for a moment before going back to his tooka doll.

“Time. Will. Tell,” Ashla told her.

“I guess you're right,” Rebekka replied after a moment.

“Well,” Rebekka said, scooping Caleb and his toy up. “I think it’s time we get on with our day,”

Sora and Teman, who had apparently been out of the compound doing who knows what this whole time, came trotting up to Caleb, Rebekka, and Ashla. Ashla left a few minutes later.

Caleb, Rebekka, Teman, and Sora spent the rest of the day playing with Caleb’s toys and doing whatever else they did on a day to day basis.

“I love you Caleb,” Rebekka said suddenly. “And I always will,”

***

The scene faded away and the Ghost crew was starting to wonder exactly how much of Caleb Dume's early life they were going to see.

***

The next scene showed the Lothwolf compound just like they always saw it.

Rebekka, Caleb, Sora, and Teman were gathered by the fire pit while Maica was lying down on the other side of the compound.

“Alright everybody,” Rebekka said. “I'm gonna cover my eyes and you three have to hide before I open them again. Then I have to find you,”

Rebekka put her hands over her eyes. “Okay, go!”

Caleb, Teman, and Sora all took off in different directions.

Teman disappeared behind some rocks and Sora buried herself in plant life.

Caleb ran around trying to find a suitable hiding spot, but he shook his head at every spot he checked and kept looking. Eventually his eyes landed on Maica and his face broke out in a huge grin. Caleb giggled as he ran over to her.

“May-kah! Shh!” Caleb whispered (not very well), pressing a finger to his lips.

Then he got on his hands and knees and started crawling. Caleb wriggled under Maica’s chest and front legs. Then he oriented himself so his head was sticking out.

If he positioned his head just right, Caleb’s hair almost blended in with Maica’s fur, almost.

Caleb burrowed into Maica’s fur while Maica relaxed and pretended he wasn’t there.

Rebekka opened and uncovered her eyes. “Okay, I’m ready to find you!” she announced as she started searching the compound.

“Hmmm... Where could they be?” Rebekka questioned dramatically.

Caleb giggled and Rebekka pretended to ignore him.

Rebekka continued to look in nearly impossible hiding spots as she wandered over to Maica and where Caleb was hiding.

“Oh, I just don’t know where Caleb could be hiding,” Rebekka said as she plopped down next to Maica.

Caleb giggled again, this time it was a bit muffled, like he was trying to cover his mouth with his hands.

Rebekka raised an eyebrow, but otherwise acted like she didn’t hear anything. “He must have disappeared,” she continued. “I think I’ve searched every place he could have hid,”

After a moment of thought, Rebekka shot up. “Unless..”

Then she whirled around and stuck her hands in Maica’s fur, right where Caleb was hiding.

“Ha! Got you!” Rebekka exclaimed triumphantly as she pulled Caleb out and held him in the air.

Caleb laughed and clapped his hands.

Rebekka put him down. “Wanna help me find Sora and Teman?” she asked.

“Yeah!” Caleb cheered, giggling and dashing off to check possible hiding spots.

Rebekka chuckled and followed after him.

They search for a while until Rebekka spotted a familiar gray-brown ear peeking through a pile of grass. “Caleb, look!” she pointed.

Caleb walked over to where his mother had pointed and grabbed a clump of grass that was in front of the ear. He pulled and threw it away, revealing Sora’s face.

“Found you, Sora!” Caleb shouted.

Sora stood up and shook the remaining grass out of her fur. Then she licked Caleb’s cheek.

“Good job, Caleb,” Rebekka praised. “Now can you find Teman?”

Caleb wandered near the rocks Teman was hiding behind. Then he saw a brown-gray tail sticking out from behind two rocks. He grabbed it.

Teman’s head appeared from behind one of the rocks.

“Found you, Teman!” Caleb cheered.

Both pups licked his cheeks and Caleb laughed.

Rebekka clapped her hands. “You did it, Caleb! You found both of your friends!” she crowed.

Caleb, Sora, and Teman gathered around her and Rebekka squatted down to her level.

“Who’s ready for another game?” she asked.

The four of them played hide-n-seek for almost the entire day.

Then, later that evening, Caleb stumbled towards the end of a game and sat down. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” Rebekka announced, picking him up. “I think it’s time for bed,”

Caleb just rested his head on her shoulder and grabbed a lock of her hair in his small fist. Teman and Sora went off and laid down next to their mother.

Rebekka carried Caleb into their “house” cave and changed him into his pajamas.

They both laid down in their home-made bed and Rebekka wrapped the fur covers around them.

“Do you want a song to help you fall asleep?” Rebekka asked.

Caleb nodded sleepily.

Rebekka took out her music player and activated it. Familiar string music filled the room.

Then Rebekka started to sing the now familiar song:

“You had your maps drawn,

You had other plans

To hang your hopes on,

Every road they lead you down felt so wrong,

So you found another way,

You've got a big heart,

The way you see the world

It got you this far,

You might have some bruises,

And a few scars,

But you know you're gonna be okay,

And even though you're scared,

You're stronger than you know,

If you're lost out where the lights are blinding,

Caught in all, the stars are hiding,

That's when something wild calls you home, home,

If you face the fear that keeps you frozen,

Chase the sky into the ocean,

That's when something wild calls you home, home,

Wo-o-OHHH

OH-OHHH

OH-OHHH-OH-oh

ohhh

ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-oh

ohhh

Ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-OH,

Wo-o-OHHH

OH-OHHH

OH-OHHH-OH-oh

ohhh

ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-oh

ohhh

Ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-OH,

Sometimes the past can,

Make the ground beneath you feel like quicksand,

You don't have to worry,

You reach for my hand,

Yeah I know you're gonna be okay,

You're gonna be okay,

And even if you're scared,

You're stronger than you know,

If you're lost out where the lights are blinding,

Caught in all, the stars are hiding,

That's when something wild calls you home, home,

If you face the fear that keeps you frozen,

Chase the sky into the ocean,

That's when something wild calls you home, home,

Wo-o-OHHH

OH-OHHH

OH-OHHH-OH-oh

ohhh

ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-oh

ohhh

Ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-OH,

Wo-o-OHHH

OH-OHHH

OH-OHHH-OH-oh

ohhh

ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-oh

ohhh

Ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-OH,

Calls you home,

If you're lost out where the lights are blinding,

Caught in all, the stars are hiding,

That's when something wild calls you home,

If you're lost out where the lights are blinding,

Caught in all, the stars are hiding,

That's when something wild calls you home, home,

If you face the fear that keeps you frozen,

Chase the sky into the ocean,

That's when something wild calls you home, home,

Wo-o-OHHH

OH-OHHH

OH-OHHH-OH-oh

ohhh

ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-oh

ohhh

Ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-OH,

Wo-o-OHHH

OH-OHHH

OH-OHHH-OH-oh

ohhh

ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-oh

ohhh

Ohhh-oh

oh-OH-Oh-oh-OH,

OH,”

Caleb was fast asleep.

Rebekka smiled and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight sweet boy. I love you,” she said. “And I always will,”

***

The scene faded to black and the Ghost crew had questions other than why they were being shown all these events from Caleb/Kanan’s past.

***

The next scene brought a change of pace as it showed the open plains of Lothal instead of the Lothwolf compound.

Rebekka’s speeder bike came riding into view. Rebekka was driving at a leisure pace with Caleb on her lap.

“How did you like your first trip into town, Caleb?” Rebekka asked, smiling down at him.

Caleb smiled back up at her. “It was fun!”

Rebekka slowed the speeder to a stop. She got off and picked Caleb up. She held him up in the air as she looked at him.

“Oh, you’re getting so big!” she cooed. “I can’t believe you’re two already!”

Rebekka kissed both his cheeks and moved to get back on her speeder bike.

Then the sound of an approaching ship filled the air and she froze.

Rebekka looked up as the ship passed overhead and gasped. It was a Jedi corvette.

The Jedi ship landed about 150 yards away.

Rebekka stood stock-still as the ship’s ramp lowered and three Jedi stepped out. From this distance, one was short and green, one was a dark-skinned human, and the third looked like a Cerean. The Jedi approached and Rebekka could do little more than stare.

“Greetings,” the bald dark-skinned human said as he bowed when the Jedi reached her. “I am Master Mace Windu of the Jedi Order,” Then he introduced the others. “This is Master Yoda and Master Ki-Adi Mundi,”

“Call us here, the Force did,” Master Yoda stated. “See why, now I do,”

Rebekka hugged Caleb to her chest and waited for them to continue.

“What are your names?” Master Mace Windu asked.

“My name is Rebekka Dume,” Rebekka answered. “This is Caleb,” She tilted her head toward him.

“Ms. Dume, you may not know this, but your son is strong with the Force,” Master Windu told her. “Very strong,”

Rebekka nodded. “I know,” she murmured.

“Then you must understand that it is only proper that he is trained as a Jedi,” Master Ki-Adi Mundi said.

Master Windu held up a hand to stop him from continuing.

“Of course, that’s entirely up to you to decide, and you don’t have to decide right now,” Master Windu said. “But know that he will receive the utmost education and have every opportunity to decide what he wants to be,”

“I..I’ll have to think about it,” Rebekka answered.

Master Windu nodded. “Very well,”

Master Yoda seemed to consider something for a moment.

“But this, you must know. Important to Lothal’s future, he will be, if trained as a Jedi, he is,” Master Yoda said.

Rebekka nodded, filing that information away for when she considered the possibilities for Caleb’s future.

“Return to Lothal in a few months we will,” Master Yoda said. “Make a decision by then, you must,”

Rebekka sighed in relief. “Thank you,”

“Could you tell us where you live, so we can visit you when the time comes?” Master Mundi asked.

Rebekka shook her head. “I’m afraid not,”

“Well, then we will have to meet you here,” Master Windu said.

“How will I know when to meet you? And how will you know where to find me?” Rebekka asked.

“Bring us together, the Force will,” Master Yoda answered.

Rebekka nodded. “Alright, see you then,”

Masters Yoda, Mace Windu, and Ki-Adi Mundi said their goodbyes and went back to their ship. Then it took off and flew away.

Ashla appeared beside her as Rebekka watched them leave.

“The Jedi came for him,” Rebekka told him, turning to face the Lothwolf. “I have a decision to make,”

Ashla just nodded at her.

“Mama!” Caleb whined, tugging on her hair. “Go ‘ome!”

Rebekka patted his hand. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s go home,”

Rebekka got back on her speeder bike and started for the compound. “I have a lot to think about,”

Rebekka, Caleb, and Ashla made it back to the Lothwolf compound a few minutes later. Rebekka put Caleb down and let him wander off to find Sora and Teman. Then she unloaded her bags.

Rebekka set the bags down by the entrance to the “house” cave. Then she pressed her back against the rock and slid down to the ground.

“I know the Jedi mean well,” Rebekka said, to no one in particular. “But that doesn’t make this any less hard,”

Caleb had found Teman and Sora and they were playing a few feet away. Rebekka smiled at the sight. Then she looked around the Lothwolf compound and sighed.

“This isn't the kind of life Caleb deserves,” Rebekka continued glumly. “He shouldn't be living in the wilderness all his life with only his mother and wolves for company and only an occasional trip to the nearest town. Caleb deserves the kind of education the Jedi can give him, the kind I'll never be able to,”

Caleb, probably sensing his mother's distress, left Sora and Teman to walk over to her.

“Mama,” he said as he gave her a hug.

Rebekka smiled and hugged him back. Then she pulled him into her lap and kissed the top of his head.

“You deserve to have your best chance,” Rebekka told him, hugging him closer to her chest.

“Even if it's not with me,”

***

The scene changed to the open plains before anyone in the Ghost Crew could think of a response to what they just saw.

The Jedi’s ship was sitting with its ramp down in a similar spot to where it was last time. Masters Yoda, Mace Windu, and Ki-Adi Mundi were waiting at the bottom of the ramp. All of their heads turned as Rebekka’s speeder bike approached.

Rebekka stopped a few feet away from them and got off her speeder. She held Caleb in one arm and had a bag slung over her opposite shoulder. She also looked like she’d been crying.

“Have you made your decision?” Master Windu asked.

Rebekka nodded. “Yes,”

“Then what have you decided?” Master Mundi prompted.

Rebekka sighed. “It would be better for him if Caleb went with you,” she admitted, moving to hand Caleb and the bag over.

Master Yoda seemed to study Caleb and Rebekka for a moment.

Then he said. “Return to Lothal he will, in years to come, and find a home here, he will,” It wasn’t entirely evident if he’d intended to comfort her with that information or if he just wanted to share that information with her.

Rebekka perked up. “You mean, I’ll see him again?” She asked hopefully.

“The future has many possibilities,” Master Windu answered. “Master Yoda’s prediction may come true, and it might not. Only time will tell,”

“But there’s a chance,” Rebekka pleaded.

“A chance of anything, there always is,” Master Yoda replied.

“Are you ready for us to take him?” Master Mundi asked, clearly ready to finish their business and go their separate ways.

Rebekka took a deep breath.

“Alright,” Rebekka said, her voice unsteady.

“It’s for the best,” she told herself, her voice breaking, as she handed Caleb to Master Windu.

Caleb was clearly confused by this turn of events. “Mama!” he whined as he struggled in Master Windu’s hold.

Master Windu adjusted his arms to hold Caleb securely as Master Mundi took the bag Rebekka offered.

“We will let you know if something changes,” Master Windu said.

Rebekka nodded as tears started to form in her eyes.

The Jedi turned around and headed back to their ship, with Caleb.

Rebekka stood still as the Jedi ship’s ramp closed and the ship took off. Then Ashla appeared beside her.

“I...I will see him again... right?” she asked, sniffling.

“He. Will. Return,” Ashla answered.

“I trust you,” Rebekka replied. She was crying in earnest now.

Rebekka looked off in the direction the Jedi’s ship, with her son, had gone.

Then she started to sing, her words intermittent with sniffles and sobs. “If you're lost...out where...the lights...are...blinding, Caught in all, ...the stars...are hiding, That's when...sOmething wi...ld...calls...you...”

“Home,” Rebekka finally lost control and sobbed hysterically into her hands.

***

The scene faded away as the Ghost crew were left in shock. They fully expected that to be the last scene they would be shown, but they were wrong.

***

The next, and most likely final, scene presented them with the open plains of Lothal again. The Ghost crew couldn’t see anything until Rebekka’s speeder bike appeared. Although she was riding fast, she didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the path ahead of her. Rebekka appeared to have one hand over her face as she steered the bike. She also had the hood of her cloak pulled up over her head.

Rebekka drove on until she reached the portal cave.

Ashla was waiting for her on the other side.

Rebekka threw herself off of her speeder and slammed her fist into his chest, which bore little reaction. Her hood fell off to reveal her tear-streaked face. She also looked to have aged maybe a decade or so.

“The Jedi are gone!” she wailed. “They’re all dead! I’ll never see my son again!”

Rebekka sank to the ground sobbing.

“Chancellor Palpatine labeled the Jedi as traitors,” she explained. “And had them all killed, even the children!”

“Caleb’s dead!” Rebekka cried. “I’ll never see my son again!”

Maica, Sora, and Teman started to approach, curious and concerned about what was going on. Ashla seemed unphased.

“He. Lives,” Ashla said.

Rebekka’s head shot up. “What?”

“He. Lives,” Ashla repeated.

“You...you think he’s alive?” Rebekka asked.

“I. Know,” Ashla replied.

Rebekka took a deep breath and let it out in a long exhale.

“I trust you,” she finally said. “I trust that Caleb will come home,”

Rebekka looked up at the sky, and the galaxy beyond it.

Then she started to sing, though her crying hadn’t quite stopped yet. “If you face...the fear...that keeps...you frozen, Chase the sky...into the ocean, ...That's when something wild calls you home,”

“Come home to me, Caleb,” Rebekka begged. “Come home to me,”

***

Then the scene was gone and Ghost crew were left staring at the cave wall whose paintings were just starting to make sense. Well, technically, Kanan couldn’t actually see the cave paintings, but he still stood frozen.

Hera was the first to speak, saying the first thing that popped into her head. “You were so cute,” she murmured.

“Karabast,” Zeb said after recovering from his shock. “The little green troll was right,”

Sabine had removed her hand from the wall and shoved passed Hera to grab Kanan’s left hand, which was fortunately his remaining flesh hand. She ripped off his fingerless glove to reveal a familiar scar on his left palm that started at the base of his index finger and curved down to the opposite side of his palm. Everyone in the Ghost crew hand seen it at some point, but they were never sure how he got it until now.

Meanwhile, Chopper was yelling at them about how they’d been staring at that cave painting for over an hour and that nothing he did snapped them out of it. The Ghost crew was too distracted by the shock of what was revealed to them to tell him what was going on.

Ezra was now the only one who still had his hand on the cave wall. He continued to stare at it as he processed what they’d just seen.

“You...You were found on Lothal,” Ezra finally said. “You and your mother lived with the Lothwolves. She waited for you to come home...”

“Wait a minute,” Zeb interrupted. “We’ve been on and off Lothal for years. Why haven’t the Lothwolves told Kanan about this before? Why make his mom wait so long?”

“Because I wasn’t ready to let Caleb Dume back in yet,” Kanan answered.

Hera, Zeb, and Sabine all turned to looked at him.

Kanan gently pulled his hand out of Sabine’s slackening grip, although he let her keep his glove, and explained. “When we first came to Lothal, I was still hiding the fact that I was a Jedi. I’d hidden Caleb Dume away for years in order to survive. Then we met Ezra and I started acting like a Jedi again, but I was doing it in a Kanan Jarrus way. I never really let Caleb be a part of who I was until Hera was captured and the Lothwolves appeared to me,”

“But Ezra said the Lothwolves started appearing before then,” Sabine hinted.

“They must have sensed that it was almost time,” Kanan replied.

“Time for what?” Zeb asked.

“Time for you to come home!” Ezra exclaimed, although it seemed like he’d only been half listening to their conversation.

Everyone was looking at him now.

“Kanan, your mother might still be alive!” Ezra continued. “and she could still be waiting for you...”

“Ezra-” Kanan started.

But Ezra didn’t appear to have heard him.

“Maybe Ashla can take us to her!” Ezra interrupted. “If she’s still alive,”

“Ezra...” Kanan repeated.

Ezra still didn’t hear him.

“No wonder the Lothwolves knew your name and were so interested in you,” Ezra rambled. “Kanan! You have to reunite with your mother, if you still have the chance to. I mean... what else are you supposed to do? Now that the Lothwolves have reconnected with you and you’ve started becoming Caleb Dume-”

“Ezra!” Kanan shouted.

Ezra finally stopped and stared at Kanan.

“I...don’t remember any of this,” Kanan admitted, looking like he was sorry that he had to say that, while placing a hand on the cave wall to indicate what he was talking about. “Ezra, it’s been 30 years. It might be too late. Besides, I’m not Caleb Dume anymore. Yes, I’ve accepted him as a part of me, but I don’t think I’ll ever fully be Caleb Dume again. If the Lothwolves take us to Rebekka Dume, I won’t be the son she remembers. I’ve said before that it’s too late for me, and that’s still true,”

“You might think it’s too late for you,” Ezra argued. “But your mother won’t think it’s too late. She’s been waiting for you all this time,”

Kanan was silent.

“It wouldn’t hurt to just meet her,” Ezra pointed out after a beat.

“You’re not gonna let up on this are you?” Kanan sighed and turned to Hera, Sabine, and Zeb, silently asking them for help.

Zeb just shrugged. “I don’t know, mate,”

“It’s your decision, love,” Hera said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Fine,” Kanan finally relents, turning back to Ezra. “You can ask Ashla to take us to Rebekka Dume, if she’s still alive,”

Ezra grinned and immediately turned to Ashla. “Can you take us to Kanan’s mom, please?”

Ashla nodded and turned around. He extended his tail to Ezra, who grabbed hold of it with one hand. Then he reached back and took Kanan’s hand. Kanan reached back and took Hera’s hand. The Ghost crew all joined hands, with Zeb bringing up the rear. Then Zeb slung a very confused and indignant Chopper under his arm so the droid wouldn’t be left behind.

Ashla started walking and a glowing blue portal appeared on the wall in front of him that looked familiar to Ezra, Zeb, and Sabine and felt familiar to Kanan.

Ezra, Hera, Sabine, Zeb, and Chopper could see nothing but blue light as Ashla lead them through the portal.

When they emerged, they were standing in the Lothwolf compound, and it honestly hadn’t changed much over the years.

Ashla was standing in front of them. He turned around and lead them to presumably where Rebekka was. The Ghost crew released each other's hands, Zeb set Chopper down, and they followed him, letting Kanan take the lead.

On their way there, they walked passed many lothwolves of the pack. Two in particular, one who was brown with gray mixed in and one who was gray with brown mixed in, took special interest in them and trotted over. They stopped in front of Kanan, who had to stop walking so he didn't run into them. The wolves started licking Kanan's face and rubbing their heads against him.

It took a second for the Ghost crew to realize that this was Sora and Teman, now full-grown adult wolves.

Then Sora grabbed the collar of Kanan's jacket with her teeth and pulled it off, revealing that Kanan's right arm was obviously a prosthetic.

Teman took the jacket from his sister. It was a miracle that they hadn't heard any ripping sounds at this point.

Teman and Sora joined their group in following Ashla to wherever Rebekka Dume was.

They approached a brown wolf, that they guessed was Maica, who was lying down near one of the rock spires that surrounded the compound.

As they all got closer, they noticed something was resting against her side, or rather, someone was resting against her side.

It was Rebekka Dume. She had her head down and some sort of animal hide covered her legs.

Sora and Teman went to say hi to their mother and Rebekka looked up.

She definitely looked like a woman in her fifties. She had gray streaks in her brown hair and her face had a few wrinkles.

“Oh, hello Ashla,” Rebekka Dume said when she noticed the white wolf, and stood up; the animal hide falling away.

Then she tilted her head and noticed the Ghost crew, who were staring at her wide-eyed. “What are these people doing here?” she asked.

Ashla whacked his tail against Kanan’s back and pushed him forward.

Rebekka Dume studied Kanan for a moment with a look of mild confusion, then she took a step forward.

“Dume,” Ashla said. “Has. Returned,”

“What?” Rebekka hesitated. “You mean it’s...”

She stepped forward until she was standing right in front of Kanan.

“Caleb?” She murmured, placing a hand on Kanan’s cheek.

Kanan managed to nod.

Rebekka Dume let out a sob and threw her arms around him and cried into his chest.

Ezra was grinning widely, while Chopper continued to let his confusion be known. Zeb and Sabine just watched and Hera paid close attention to Kanan’s reaction.

Kanan was stock-still. He didn’t know how to react, but after a minute of Rebekka clinging to him and crying, he lifted his arms and awkwardly patted her back.

Over five minutes went by before Rebekka released Kanan and started studying him.

“Look how you’ve grown up,” Rebekka Dume sighed.

Then she noticed the scar across his eyes. “...what?” she stammered, trailing her fingers along the scar. Then her eyes filled with fresh tears, this time of mourning.

“What... How... Your eyes... You’re blind!” Rebekka cried, finally coming to the realization.

Kanan just stayed still and silent as her eyes trailed over him. She mumbled worriedly as she looked at the burns on his neck. She smiled when she saw the familiar scar on his left palm.

Then Rebekka Dume saw his prosthetic arm and everything went up a notch, or ten.

“What!” Rebekka practically growled. She placed one hand over it and looked up into his blind eyes.

“Who did this to you?” Rebekka asked, actually growling this time. Her eyes swelled with maternal protectiveness.

Kanan couldn’t think of a response to her question.

Then Rebekka looked behind him and noticed the rest of the Ghost crew. “Who are these people?” she asked.

“These are my friends,” Kanan answered, finally finding his voice. He ran a hand through his hair. “Well, actually, more like my family,”

Rebekka smiled at them. “Hello,” she said, momentarily forgetting about Kanan’s scars. “I’m Rebekka Dume,”

“Hi,” Ezra said, speaking first. “I’m Ezra,”

“My name’s Hera,” Hera introduced, taking a step forward. “And this is Chopper,” she added, gesturing to the droid.

“I’m Zeb,” Zeb added.

“I’m Sabine,” Sabine said.

Rebekka smiled again and nodded at each of them. “It’s nice to meet you,” she greeted.

Having met the rest of the Ghost crew, Rebekka took Kanan’s hand and pulled him over to her discarded animal hide. “I want to hear everything,” she said, sitting them both down.

“That might have to wait,” Kanan replied. “We have people who are probably wondering where we are and we have a battle to prepare for,”

“What do you mean?” Rebekka asked, straightening up.

“I don’t think you need to worry about it,” Kanan answered, standing up.

“No,” Rebekka said firmly, reaching up and grabbing his arm. “Caleb, tell me what’s going on,”

Kanan sighed, clearly seeing no way out of this. “Fine,”

***

“I’m coming with you,” Rebekka announced after Kanan told her about the attack they were planning.

“What?” Kanan exclaimed. “No, you don’t need to do this,” He had since reclaimed his jacket from Teman and was putting it back on.

Rebekka was already moving to gather her available weapons, which mostly consisted of knives. “I am not losing you again,” she said. “And I want the Empire to leave too. Besides, you’ll have a stronger attack if you have the Lothwolves with you,”

“I don’t want to put you in any danger,” Kanan argued.

“It’s not up to you,” Rebekka replied. “You can’t stop me or the Lothwolves from joining you,”

Hera and Sabine started chuckling and had to cover their mouths with their hands.

“What?” Kanan asked, turning to face at them.

“She’s just as determined as you are, love,” Hera answered.

Rebekka grinned with pride when she heard that statement. She’d also noticed Hera’s endearment and grinned wider.

Chopper asked when they would be leaving, because he thought they’d been on this little Lothwolf side-quest for long enough.

“Chopper’s right,” Sabine agreed. “I think it’s time we headed back to the base. We still have to prep for the attack,”

“Fine with me,” Rebekka said, swigging onto Maica’s back before the Lothwolf stood up. “Maica, Ashla, Teman, and Sora can give us all a ride. That way they can gather the rest of the pack and we can all stay together,”

“Do the wolves even know where our base is?” Zeb asked.

“Ashla found Kanan at the base before,” Ezra answered. “He should be able to find his way back,”

“Oh yeah, right,” Zeb replied.

As they spoke, the rest of the Lothwolf pack started to gather around them. The crew recognized one of the dark gray wolves as Venari. A reddish brown wolf stood beside them. Then a light gray wolf came up and touched noses with Sora. There were about eight wolves in the pack, counting Ashla, Maica, and her children.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Rebekka exclaimed, tapping herself on the head with two fingers. “I haven’t told you everyone’s names!”

“The white wolf is Ashla in case you hadn’t figured that out already, and this is Maica,” Rebekka said, gesturing to the wolf she was riding.

“These two are Sora and Teman,” she continued pointing to each of them. “They’re Maica’s children,”

The Ghost crew already knew their names, but decided not to say anything.

“That’s Venari, and that’s Pemburu,” Rebekka said as she pointed to the dark gray wolf, that the Ghost crew recognized earlier, and the reddish brown wolf respectively.

“That’s Siguri, Sora’s mate,” she continued, pointing at the light gray wolf. Then she moved to the other dark gray wolf. “And that’s Socorro,”

‘Alright! Can we go now?’ Chopper asked, clearly annoyed.

“Well, sounds like Chopper has an opinion,” Rebekka observed, although it didn’t seem like she understood binary.

“He says that we should probably get going,” Hera translated. “I think our friends are worried enough as it is,”

“Alright,” Rebekka replied. “Get on a wolf,”

Ashla knelt down in front of Kanan, who got the message to climb on, which he did. After getting situated on Ashla’s back, Kanan reached a hand down to Hera. Hera took his hand and used it to swing on and sit behind him.

Sora came up and knelt down beside Ezra, and Ezra climbed on her back.

Teman came and knelt down beside Sabine, who climbed onto his back after a moment of hesitation.

Zeb glanced between Ezra on Sora’s back and Sabine on Teman’s back and decided to ride with Sabine. He trusted her not to do anything crazy while riding a giant wolf.

Chopper started complaining that he would be left behind if they used this mode of transportation. He was interrupted when Sora grabbed him in her mouth.

“We should probably call ahead and warn everyone that we’re coming,” Kanan suggested.

“I got it,” Ezra volunteered. He activated his comm. “Spectre 6 to base, do you read me?”

There was no answer other than the vague sound of static.

“I think we’re out of range,” he announced.

“Then we’ll have to wait to comm them until we’re in range,” Hera responded.

“Let’s get going then,” Rebekka said.

Ashla took off, followed by Maica, Sora, Teman, and the rest of the pack.

_____________

“They’ve sure been gone for a while,” Ryder Azadi observed.

“I’m sure they’ll be back soon,” Rex reassured.

“Really? Cuz’ usually when people walk off with wolves they don’t come back,” Ketsu countered.

“You forget that Ezra and Kanan are Jedi,” Hondo said. “And Jedi often do seemingly impossible things, like taming oversized wolves,”

“Well it did appear like the white Lothwolf wanted Kanan for something,” Kallus added. “And I doubt he would have let the Ghost crew come with him if he thought it was going to be dangerous,”

Their discussion was interrupted when the main comm beeped.

“Spectre 6 to base,” Ezra came through. “Can you read me?”

“We read you, Ezra,” Ryder answered, activated their side of the comm. “Where are you?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll be back soon,” Ezra replied.

“Well, good. We need to start preparations,” Ryder replied.

“Oh, and just a heads up. We made some new friends, so don’t freak out when you see a bunch of wolves headed toward you. That’s us,” Ezra warned.

“What!” Ryder and a few others exclaimed.

“See you soon!” Ezra said, before shutting off his comm.

“What’s going on?” Jai Kell asked.

“I don’t think we’ll find out until they get back,” Kasmir said.

“When will that be?” Mart Mattin asked.

“Incoming!” Wolffe announced.

Sure enough, a pack of Lothwolves was running towards them. As the wolves got closer they could see people on their backs. Soon they realised it was the Ghost crew.

“What the...” Kallus mumbled.

“We’re back!” Ezra announced, as the wolves the Ghost crew were riding came up to the rest of the group. The wolf Ezra was riding had Chopper in its mouth and started putting him down, as the droid protested being carried in their mouth.

“Where’ve you been?” Ryder asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s a long story,” Kanan said as he dismounted from the white wolf and reached up to help Hera, who had been riding with him, down.

A brown-haired woman in her fifties hopped off one of the other wolves. She smiled at everyone. “We’re here to help,” she said, referring to herself and the wolves.

“Who are you?” Mart asked.

“Rebekka Dume,” the woman answered.

Everyone gasped. While the Ghost crew was gone, everyone had been filled in on why the white wolf said ‘Dume’ and how it connected to Kanan.

“Is she...?” Kasmir started to ask.

“Yes, she’s Kanan’s mother,” Ezra answered. “She lives with the Lothwolves and they’re all gonna fight with us,”

Gregor nudged Wolffe with his elbow excitedly. “Wolffe, looks like you have your wolf pack back! ehh?”

“Yeah,” Wolffe agreed, though his eyes never left Rebekka’s face.

Zeb and Sabine had dismounted from their wolf and had gathered with the others standing in front of the wolves.

“Alright then,” Ryder said. “Come on. It’s time to prepare for our mission,”

The wolf pack followed everyone further into the base, where they started to prepare their weapons.

“Do you know how to use a blaster?” Rex asked Rebekka as he handed her one.

“Yes, but it’s been years since I last used one,” Rebekka answered, inspecting the blaster. “I may need a refresher course,”

“I’ll teach you,” Wolffe volunteered, perhaps a little too quickly.

“Everyone here should be prepared to use a blaster on this mission,” he justified.

Rebekka smiled at him. “Thank you,”

They smiled at each other for a moment before Wolffe cleared his throat.

“We should probably start now,” Wolffe suggested. “There’s an area over there where we can practice,” He pointed off to his left, where a rock spire hid a clearing from view.

Rebekka nodded. “Okay, lead the way,”

Wolffe and Rebekka went off with blasters in hand.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Rebekka said as they walked off.

Wolffe chuckled. “You’re probably not gonna believe me,” he replied. “My name’s Wolffe. I’m an old clone trooper,”

“Oh,” Rebekka said. Then she laughed.

The others went on with preparations. They could hear blaster shots in the distance as Rebekka and Wolffe went over their blaster refresher course. Occasionally they would hear Rebekka shriek in triumph, presumably because she hit the target Wolffe had set out for her.

While they were preparing for their mission, the lothwolves remained near them. Some were lying down nearby, Maica was sitting near the rock spire that separated Rebekka and Wolffe from the rest of the group, Teman and Sora hung out near Kanan, and Ashla watched everyone like some sort of benevolent god overseeing his people.

At one point, Sora shifted and swung her tail so it hit Vizago in the face, making him stumble back in surprise and annoyance.

“Why did I ever get involved with you Rebels?” Vizago grumbled.

“Because we’re incredibly persuasive,” Kanan answered.

Songs used were “Something Wild” by Lindsey Stirling and “You’ll Be in My Heart” from Disney’s Tarzan, written by Phil Collins.

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heartists · 5 years

Text

ursula’s plastic surgery transformation revised and extended.

so a while ago i did a post on the plastic surgery procedures that ursula would get done after she gets out of jail, and how much it would all cost. and then i thought, well, since kylie jenner spent $2 million on HER plastic surgery, isn’t $128,900 a little……underwhelming? can’t the derosiers be so much more extra? and then i remembered i had her undergo a magical transformation as well as a scientific one. and thus, this post was born.

i want to start off by saying by conventional beauty standards, ursula is fairly unattractive. i here, you can see for yourself. she has smallish, beady eyes with her left eye spaced further away from her nose than her right; they are bright in color (pink) but dull in expression. she has a very flat face with a flat nose and a weak chin, and her profile lacks all definition. her hair is thin and stringy--it takes all the hair gel in the world to get it to curl. her lips are thin, her mouth is rather wide, and she has off-white teeth. and i know i drew her eyebrows thick in that picture but tbh i decided to make them thinner--they’re not very defined and almost disappear into her face. in addition, her body is more of an oval/apple shape than the hourglass shape she desires--small breasts, flat v-shaped butt, gains more weight in the midsection. she’s very skinny--thanks to her dieting her BMI is in fact somewhat underweight--but the fat distribution around her middle makes her look heavier than she actually is. ursula’s features improve with makeup, but still, she’s not as attractive as a typical celebrity. she knows this, and it hurts.

all of these things have caused both ursula and her mother great pains. ursula more or less constantly fixates on the fact that she takes after her ugly father and is drastically less attractive than her mother, who is renowned in china and in the west for her beauty and grace. part of why she wants to get plastic surgery so badly is because she wants to be as beautiful as her mother in the eyes of the world, or even one-up her. the other part of why she wants to get surgery is because lila herself has been pushing her toward it: she’s ashamed of having such an ugly daughter, and wants to “fix” her to look better. ursula expected her entire life to be given surgery, but lila wanted to go even further.

enter the world of transformation.

yes, every surgery is a transformation, but i’m talking about magical transformation--the type that one could only dream about in fairytales. surgery can only go so far in terms of changing a person’s features--often the changes are subtle, working around and enhancing what a person already has in order to make them look “better.” but with magical transformation, you can go further. in the real world, a stick-thin woman will never have the figure of nicki minaj even with the best butt augmentation, but with magical transformation in the pokémon world, she absolutely can. in the real world, a dark-skinned person will never be able to bleach their skin fully white, nor can a light-skinned person don a permanent tan, but with magical transformation, this is also entirely possible. on top of that, magical transformation is often known for producing, on average, better results than surgery: it relies on regrowing and reshaping natural features, working entirely with what the body has to offer rather than pesky infection-causing implants. and finally, magical transformation does what no amount of human surgery or other science can: it can also modify the body’s functioning (such as where fat is distributed) so that the results stay the same throughout time. for example, if you want to do some lipo on your waist, magical transformation modifies the fat cells and even the metabolism so the fat will never go back on your stomach.

why isn’t everyone using it? well, the thing with magical transformation is, it’s extremely rare and extremely expensive. there are only a select few people on the planet, vessels of arceus--less than one ten thousandth of one percent of the population--who can learn the techniques required to perform such magical operations. and of those select few, the vast majority refuse to perform cosmetic magical transformations either on moral grounds or because they simply weren’t interested in learning it. of the ~5,000 or so arceus vessels alive today, only sixteen of them worldwide are both able and willing to do cosmetic magical transformations: two in galar, four in america, seven in south korea, and three in china. this scarcity means that they can charge whatever price for their services they want. this further means that, instead of a paltry $128,900, ursula’s family had to fork over $25 million in order to give her the makeover of her and her mother’s dreams.

some of that came out of taxpayer dollars.

on top of the changes that i have listed in this post, the following changes were also made:

fat distribution change so that when she gains weight, most of it goes to the boobs and butt.

tooth whitening.

chin enhancement, to balance out the face.

eyebrow thickening and reshaping.

height adjustment--went from 5′1″ to 5′10″.

eyelash lengthening.

skin tanning.

hair thickening and texture change to make it naturally curly and thicker.

note that any implant changes are instead made by magically inducing the body to grow in those specific places.

ye a h, she got a lot done.

this was supposed to be her fairytale, her perfect moment of transformation that would change her life permanently for the better. but problems dogged the procedure and its aftermath, to the point that most people wouldn’t do them. for one thing, lila wanted a very different result from ursula. ursula agreed to get her face modified in the way that lila had constantly told her she needed to: bigger eyes, a more high-bridged nose, a more defined profile, fuller lips. but lila wanted to give her a more streamlined hourglass figure and wanted to keep her pale, whereas ursula wanted a strong tan, DD boobs and a christina hendricks ass. when ursula protested, lila said that she was the one paying for the transformation, so she could get to change her daughter’s body in any way she pleased. but ursula secretly cut a magical deal with her surgeon that if he disobeyed lila and gave her the body she wanted, he would get half of her earnings from contests, music and modeling for the rest of her life. his greedy ass of course disobeyed, and ursula walked out of that room looking exactly the way she wanted to--and there was nothing her mother could do to stop it.

there was still more trouble to come. instead of obsessively counting calories and whining about how she “had to” restrict her eating to the blandest foods, ursula began to pig out on whatever she wanted to eat--knowing she was magically enchanted to have all the weight go to her boobs and ass. but given that she was enchanted to look like that instead of naturally looking like that, there were…problems. the way the weight distributes on her body is not natural at all, and so when she gains weight it looks unnerving to a trained eye rather than pleasing. in particular, she likes big booty but not big legs, but doesn’t seem to understand that if you have a big booty you will also have the legs to match. so when she gains weight, it makes her ass look even more disproportional to her smaller thighs and especially to her tiny calves. she has thousands more instagram followers now that she’s transformed, but many people have also pointed out that it’s fairly obvious how fake she looks. there are other unnatural aspects to her appearance as well: her eyes are slightly larger than a normal human eye to create that uwu uwu animu look, and even though they now have an alluring sparkle to them that wasn’t there before, they can be unnerving rather than charming. there is an illusion over her nose to make it look impossibly thin. her tan looks a bit like a spray tan. and her eyelashes--they look like she has fake eyelashes on, they’re way longer than a normal human’s eyelashes would ever be. her lips are too big for her to talk with comfortably, so her voice changes for the first several months to something really derpy- and pinched-sounding. oh, and did i forget to mention she started to have health problems when she started eating whatever the fuck she wants? she got prediabetes, which i have also had when i went through the phase when i ate whatever the fuck i wanted. don’t do it, kids. it’s not worth it.

people have put her on blast for promoting an unrealistic body image, because her proportions are literally impossible for a natural human to attain. but in her eyes, the criticism she gets from the outside world pales in comparison to the criticism she has from her mother. lila, who had been banking on the transformation to finally give her the ideal daughter she had always dreamed of, was disappointed by her child yet again. the more ursula flaunts her unnatural face and figure, the more disapproving and distant lila grows from her--speaking to her only to criticize her appearance, heaping hate for it on her even higher than she did before the transformation took place. literally as soon as ursula stepped out of the operating room, lila demanded that he take her back in there and redo according to her specifications, or else she’d sue him--but she couldn’t sue him, because he’d already made an irreversible magical deal with his patient. ursula literally wouldn’t have cared less that so many people thought she was still ugly because in her own eyes she had finally grown beautiful, if not for the fact that her mother--from whom she had unhealthily sought approval all her life--agreed with the people who found her unsightly. gradually losing her mother’s “love” is quite possibly the worst consequence of them all for her mentally………one that will eventually drive her to the most desperate of acts.

#headcanon. || URSULA #abuse*

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imaginedolanscribbles · 7 years

Text

sweet

Grayson x reader

warnings: none

words: 1.922

note: after Fine i had to write something happier to cheer me up so here it is! hope ya like it! [edit: there’s now a part II for this fic!]

There is this really great ice cream place, right below your flat. It offers every flavour you can imagine and even a few you’ve never heard of before. The walls are covered in mirrors, but not normal mirrors; instead they’re all broken up into tiny squares that reflect nothing really but still make the room seem bigger than it actually is. The ceiling is painted in purple and the plushy chairs strewn around oval coffee tables are the same shade. They have actual ivy growing up around the tall windows going out to the street, and there is always movie soundtracks playing softly in the background.

To put it quite frankly: even if ice cream wasn’t your weakness, you would love to spend all your time in there, just for the pleasing aesthetic and relaxed atmosphere.

As it is, ice cream is your weakness and you live literally above the place, so it is really no surprise you’re often enough in there to befriend the owners – an elderly italian couple, Rico and Valeria. You’ve been living in the flat for about half a year, slowly getting used to living on your own and going to college and all that. By now you have a ‘usual spot’ in the Luna D’Estate and Rico knows your favourite flavours by heart. It’s a wonder you haven’t gotten fatter from all the ice cream you’ve been eating, but then you’re also stressing a lot more than ever what with exams and papers to write.

Your ‘usual spot’ is occupied today, loads of people piling in to get some ice cream and cool down from the summer heat outside. Valeria tuts at you when she spots you sitting on the windowsill but doesn’t tell you to get off, so you send her a sheepish grin and stay where you are. Rico is preparing your order – mascarpone, blueberry, and hazelnut – when the door opens and a sweaty guy steps in.

He has a skateboard tucked under his arm and is wearing shorts and a cut-off shirt. On his feet are trainers and a hideous pair of socks, pulled up his calves as far as they possibly can. You watch him get in line and pull up his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. And. Okay. Those are some abs. Holy hell. You nod to yourself, impressed, and flush a little when Rico chooses just that moment to hand you your ice cream.

“Thank you”, you smile and Rico nods with one of his signature wide smiles, eyes as dark as olives, skin crinkling around them as his bushy, grey eyebrows wriggle, before he turns back to the next customer.

You tuck one of your legs up onto the window sill and take up the tiny plastic spoon that comes with your ice cream. Only when you’ve put one spoonful of blueberry ice cream into your mouth do you look up again, and notice two brown eyes watching you. Skateboard guy notices you catching him staring, and he pulls his lips into an easy smile, pearly white teeth flashing cheekily as he nods politely. He has a ridiculous earing dangling from his left ear.

Your mouth curls around your spoon into a responding grin without you tellling it to.

When it’s skateboard guy’s turn to order, he asks for “mango and Nutella, please”. You’re unable to hide your snort in your ice cream.

He doesn’t even look surprised, just turns halfway into your direction and cocks his head to the side with a challenging smirk, while Rico goes off to fetch his order. “You got something to say about my taste?”

“You call that taste, do you?”, you retort and his smile widens. He takes his ice cream from Rico and pays, and you half expect him to leave. But no, skateboard guy takes the few steps in your direction and looks at his ice cream. He pulls his forehead into an exaggerated frown as he stares at it in mock doubt.

“You mean, Nutella and mango don’t taste good?”

“Well, separately they do”, you shrug, taking another spoonful of your slowly melting ice cream. “They don’t belong together, though. That’s just a fact.”

He chuckles lowly and drops his skateboard, catches it under his foot so it doesn’t roll away, and extends a hand to you. “I’m Grayson.”

You look at his hand, startled for a moment, before dropping your spoon and taking it in yours. His hand is warm and big enough to almost totally engulf yours, his grip sure and firm. “Nice to meet you, Grayson.”

He nods to the space next to you on the windowsill and lifts his eyebrows questioningly. You pull your knees in a bit to create some more space for him to sit down, and he takes the invitation, leaves his skateboard underneath the both of you and swings himself up on the windowsill.

“It seems to me you might have a problem with unconventional choices”, he teases you as he starts spooning his ice cream, throwing you amused glances from out of the corner of his eye.

“Mixing ice cream flavours badly is ‘unconventional’ now, is it?”, you shoot back and look pointedly at the orangey and chocolatey mix he is eating.

He shrugs. “Yeah. It’s not vanilla and chocolate, after all. I’m thinking outside the box here.”

You choke a little on your ice cream at his overly dramatic tone as he lifts his spoon in front of his chest, like some roman emperor would his sword. Grayson smiles in an accomplished way, his eyes lingering a second longer on your face before he turns back to his ice cream.

“What’re you having, anyway?”

“Uh”, you look down at the almost empty paper bowl in your hands. You actually have to think for a moment before you remember what flavours you picked today. “Blueberry, hazelnut and … mascarpone.”

Grayson freezes for a moment, looking at you expectedly like he’s waiting for you to start laughing and telling him it’s a joke. When you don’t do that, a laugh breaks out of him, loud and easy and bright, basically bursting out of him in waves. “You serious?”

You try hard not to blush. Damn. How can he be absolutely ridiculous and this attractive at the same time? “Sure.”

That laugh again. He shakes his head and scoops a huge spoonful of ice cream up. “And you’re trying to tell me how to mix flavours?”

“Hey”, you protest and nudge his thigh with your knee lightly. He is almost too warm to touch what with all the humidity in the air. “I have great taste.”

“Sure”, he repeats your words from before, and smushes ice cream over his cheek when you nudge him again, making him resolve into small giggles.

You end up talking for another half hour, until he realizes the time and curses under his breath. “I’m really sorry, but I have to go. I promised my brother I’d be skateboarding for just an hour or so.” When he pulls his phone out, he grimaces and starts typing a message.

“No problem”, you shrug and there really is no disappointment, even though there is now tension twisting your stomach up into knots. Goodbyes are always awkward, as a rule – goodbyes to strangers even more so, of course, but the most awkward is if you maybe, probably, possibly would like the chance to run into someone again but you’re not sure the other person wants the same.

“Oh, here”, he says when you make to get down from the windowsill and holds his hands out to help you. You could climb down on your own, of course, but you’re not about to pass up this opportunity to hold his hand again. You end up accidentally landing on his skateboard with one foot, and his grip tightens when he feels your balance slip. “Sorry.”

You shrug when he lets go of you and picks up his board, words temporarily wiped from your brain at the sudden proximity to him. Grayson holds the door open for you and you step outside, blinking into the warmth of the afternoon-sunbeams.

“So”, Grayson says when the door falls shut behind him. There aren’t many people walking around you, despite the weather being this nice. He shoots you a lopsided smile and balances on the balls of his feet awkwardly. Strands of caramel coloured hair are falling into his face, almost reaching his eyes, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it even though your hands are itching to push them back for him.

“So?”, you ask and look up at him expectantly. While you were sitting, you didn’t really notice, but now that you’re standing in front of him, the height difference is definitely there. Your forehead is about where his chin is, on which he actually sports a scar, as you notice now.

He hesitates for a second like he has to pull himself together. “You wanna do this again?”

“What, criticising some poor, random guy’s ice cream flavour choices?”, you tease. Then, focusing hard on keeping your eyes on his, since your first instinct is to avert them and fidget nervously, you admit: “Actually, yeah. I’d love to.”

Grayson’s smile widens, dimples pressing into his cheeks. “Perfect.”

He pulls out his phone and lets you type in your number and name, then calls your phone so you have his number as well and shoves his phone back into his pocket with a nod. His skateboard is still resting under his arm and he makes no move to actually leave.

“Sometime next week good for you?”, he asks, eyes mapping out your face like he has all the time in the world, despite his words from earlier.

“Should be, yeah”, you confirm and stay put firmly, when he takes half a step towards you, his chest almost brushing yours now. His lips look all soft and pink up close like this, and you can see where stubble is growing on his jawline, making it appear even sharper. He has a freckle on the left side of his chin, right by the scar.

“I’ll text you then”, he says, rooted to the spot like he has absolutely no intentions of leaving.

“Sounds good”, is all you can reply. You feel a bit seasick, like you’re swaying on your feet towards him. He smells like sun and heated concrete and sweat, and it’s making your head spin. That space between neck and collarbone would fit your hand perfectly to pull him down, just a bit … you want to run your finger over that scar on his chin, just to find out if it’s rough or all smooth skin.

“Or you can text me, of course”, he goes on. His voice is quiet, like he doesn’t intend anyone to hear his words.

By now you’re breathless enough, for your voice to have essentially given out. “Okay.”

Your eyes flicker up from where they’d been focused on his lips and for a moment you just meet each other’s eyes. Then he bends down, closes the last centimetres and covers your mouth with his. The sun is warm on your skin, there’s a light breeze playing with your clothes, a hand anchoring you where he touches you lightly at your waist, the smell of skin and heat in your nose, and soft lips pressed against your own, tasting sweet and still cool from the ice cream.

Maybe mango and Nutella aren’t such a bad mixture after all.

Part II: smiley

Masterlist

#dolan twins imagine #grayson dolan imagine #grayson x reader #sweet #ice cream #no warnings #fanfiction #my fic #dolan twins fanfic #dolan twins #grayson dolan #ice cream lover #discussions about ice cream flavours #fluffy #feel good

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creativitytoexplore · 4 years

Photo

I Hold a Wolf by the Ears https://ift.tt/2ZsGjWd

Margot’s destination is a walled medieval village several thousand feet above Trapani, overlooking Punta del Saraceno and the Mediterranean Sea.

The village can be accessed only by a single road and as the taxi winds its way up through the arid copper hills, her phone chimes in her purse. It’s her sister, Louise, calling from the airport in Rome.

“I’m not coming,” she says, her voice dwarfed by the echo of gate announcements.

Louise is scheduled to attend a conference at the village’s Galileo Foundation for Scientific Culture. Margot works for an environmental nonprofit in Minneapolis and hasn’t been out of the country in years, but a month ago her sister’s husband announced he was leaving and there came her invitation to Italy, all expenses paid.

“What are you talking about?” Margot hunches over, presses the phone tight to her ear. The taxi passes a sluggish van on a blind turn; she’s thrown into the passenger door. There is no guardrail and for a moment it looks as though the driver is speeding them straight over a cliff.

Louise is a theoretical physicist. She studies quantum entanglements, particles that remained connected despite being separated by billions of light-years; she has spent her adult life, quite literally, on a different plane of existence, far from the world’s savage rot.

“I’m going,” Louise begins.

“We’re going,” Margot interrupts.

“I’m going to—”

The call drops, or Louise hangs up, before she finishes. Margot looks out the window and is startled to see that the taxi has completed its ascent and is now puttering through the village, the cobblestone streets curiously empty. She glimpses a piazza, a scattering of unoccupied café tables with navy umbrellas, a lotto, a stone church. The sky looks alarmingly low and then she realizes she’s not seeing sky at all but a descending fog.

At the hotel, the lobby is empty. A man named Filippo checks her in. He’s wearing a red polo shirt and jeans and a silver watch, a little too tight on his wrist; he has an impatient manner about him, a darting gaze. Margot gives Louise’s name, since her sister is the one who made the arrangements, and makes brief mention of her traveling companion having been delayed. Filippo requests possession of Margot’s passport. He needs to make a photocopy for their records, but at the moment the machine is broken.

“It will be fixed soon.” He drops her passport into a large leather envelope that looks like a purse, without even checking her information, just as well since the photo was taken in front of a bright white backdrop in some remote corner of a drugstore, in the terrible afterlife of a hangover. She watches him stow the envelope under the desk and thinks about how happy she would be to leave the woman in that picture behind.

The automatic doors gust open and a giant white dog gallops out of the fog. The dog lopes into the tiled breakfast area, toward a table with carafes of coffee and a platter of tan cookies. Filippo grabs a newspaper and chases the dog back outside, but not before the animal rears up in front of the table and snatches a cookie from the platter.

“No one around here eats better than the strays.” Filippo shakes the newspaper.

On the front desk, Margot notices a sign, a sheet of paper crooked in a frame, stating that tomorrow the road will be closed to accommodate the annual Time Trial of Modern and Historic Cars. The only way to leave the village will be by funicular.

“A race?” She remembers the steep climb to the village, the absence of a guardrail. “On these roads?”

“The Annual Enemy of the Restaurateurs is more like it,” Filippo replies. Apparently the road closure prevents tour buses from journeying up to the village and depositing their lunch-and-souvenir-hungry passengers into the streets.

“Is that why everything looks so quiet?”

He nods, adding that they’re also nearing the end of the tourist season. In October, a month from now, the hotel will shutter for the winter and the staff will have to find new jobs.

“And what will you do then?” Margot asks him.

“This and that,” Filippo says with a shrug.

He hands her a walking map. He tells her to deal with him alone because he is the only one at the hotel who speaks English. She climbs three flights of stairs to her room, where the twin beds are low and hard and the shower floods and there is the most spectacular view she has ever seen. The fog has thinned and a small balcony looks out onto Punta del Saraceno, a blue hulk in the dusk, and the sea beyond. Wheat-colored hillsides, the valleys flecked with gold. Headlights porpoise along the roads.

She tries Louise again, but her phone is switched off. She leaves a message and works hard to not let her anger break through. “I’m looking at the sea,” she says to the voicemail. “It’s beautiful here. Like heart-stopping, fairy-tale beautiful. Come.” Margot showers, ankle-deep in standing water, and then puts on a loose linen dress and a sweater. At the front desk, Filippo is having a hushed phone conversation; when he sees Margot coming down the stairs, he turns away, the cord winding around his waist, and speaks faster in Italian. Margot steps out into the evening, and she cannot remember the last time she walked streets so quiet. She notices plastic compartments embedded in the time-blasted stone walls, each housing an offering to a different saint. She looks up and finds the Virgin Mary entombed in an archway, her plastic case framed by electric blue lights. The great white dog, the cookie thief from the hotel, appears from around a corner and trots beside her for a little while.

She reaches for one of his silky ears and he darts away, down stone steps sloping in the direction of the sea.

In a piazza, she sits outside even though the air is chilly enough to make the hair on her arms go stiff, because she is in Italy and she has never been to Italy before and she wants to take in the sights, even if the sights presently include only a bakery and a freestanding bankomat. She is the restaurant’s sole patron. She orders a glass of wine and a plate of sardines. She eats too quickly, anxious about Louise’s whereabouts and what exactly her responsibilities are in such a situation. She hopes her sister just needs a night to get drunk on her own in Rome.

After she settles her bill, she tries to withdraw cash from the bankomat. Halfway through her transaction, the machine makes a terrible crunching sound and the screen goes dark and her debit card doesn’t come out. She jabs all the buttons, but nothing happens. Her wallet contains thirty euros and two overextended credit cards. A pressure builds around her mouth, under her eyes.

“You cunt,” she says to the bankomat.

She tries to call Louise once more, standing out in the cold as her sister’s phone rings and rings. This time, she does not leave a message.

On her way back to the hotel, she happens upon the Galileo Foundation for Scientific Culture. The foundation catches her attention at first because it is one of the few places in the village that appears to be open: a gold cone of light beams down on the heavy doorway, the wood studded with brass nubs, and the oval sign hanging over it. From the shadows, she watches the door swing open; a man in a dark suit and glasses steps into the gold cone. He ushers a couple in from the streets, speaking to them warmly in Italian. Margot glimpses people milling around in an illuminated room, open-mouthed and lifting glasses of wine. She smooths her hair, her dress, and approaches the man. She looks very much like her sister—the same height, the same wavy nut-colored hair, the same pointed chin—even as they are not identical (Margot has bigger feet, a tiny bump on the bridge of her nose). She will carry forward the plan that sprung upon her a moment ago and if he has met Louise before, if he refuses her claim, she will simply disappear into the night.

She extends her hand toward him and offers her sister’s name.

“Professor Allaway.” He clasps her hand. His skin is soft and warm. “Piacere.”

Inside she finds a table with laminated name tags. She picks up her sister’s and pins it to her sweater. She imagines Louise wandering the streets of Rome, no idea that Margot is currently roaming this reception under her good name. She eats fat green olives and salty cubes of cheese. She drinks three glasses of wine—even though, on the tarmac in Minneapolis, she promised herself she would not have more than two a night. Two and she is still herself. Two is civilized.

When she notices a man in a navy blue jacket staring at her from across the room, she hurries down a long hallway, vaguely in search of a bathroom. She makes a left, dead-ending into a dim corridor with an oil painting of green hillsides dotted with white sheep. There are other figures—a shepherd, an angel, she isn’t quite sure—in the background, but not enough light to see the entire scene clearly.

She hears footsteps racing up behind her and then a thick, starched cloth is bound around her eyes.

“Louise,” a man’s voice says. He has an American accent. He pulls the cloth tighter. He presses her to a wall. Her lips touch the cold stone. The man’s voice is right in her ear, his breath a blaze on her neck. “I’ve been trying to find you all night.”

The cloth falls away and she spins around. She can see the painting, the grazing sheep, over the man’s shoulder. He is holding a white linen napkin. He squints at her face and then at her name tag. His eyes are bloodshot, watering. He is very drunk.

“Louise,” he says again, as though he is trying to convince himself.

He slumps against her. She feels his erection through his dress pants. She has been celibate for the last six months, as part of an attempt to bring about a sense of spiritual well-being. This attempt followed a string of unfortunate one-night stands, culminating in a tryst with a man who worked for the Minneapolis chapter of the Sierra Club; she woke to him urinating in her potted philodendron and thought, I have got to change my life. She planned to quit drinking and dairy too, but had only managed to stay away from alcohol for two weeks, cheese for a month. She even went to a few meetings for the former and found herself disgusted by all that open, ravenous seeking, by the woman who stood up and spoke about how she believed in the basic goodness of human beings before going on to share that she had been raped while in rehab and that her ex-husband used to beat her with a tire iron. All those awful speeches, it was like watching a person who had been buried alive thinking they could talk or pray their way out. Optimism had never felt more deranged. We’re disgusting and stupid and weak, Margot had thought more than once, as she looked around that badly lit room. Let us suffocate under the earth. Let us all go extinct.

“Louise,” the man breathes into her hair, a little more sure this time, wanting to be. He begins to kiss her neck and she lets a hand drift across the back of his head. Her tongue is a stone in her mouth. Her arms feel heavy.

“Here?” he says, and she moves her head, not quite a nod but a gesture he takes as acquiescence. She tells herself that this is not her body but her sister’s, that she can be Louise for a little while longer.

The man unzips his pants. His hand dives under her linen dress, she feels his heavy fingers shoving aside her underwear, and then it is happening and then it is over.

After he zips up, he blots her forehead with the white linen napkin, which he has held on to the entire time. He says her sister’s name again, slurring the s, and then he takes a step back.

“Hey,” he says. “Wait.”

Without a word Margot gathers herself and slips down the hallway and out a back exit, the illuminated red sign a jolt of modernness in the otherwise archaic-seeming foundation. She emerges into a shadowed street, lights made milky by fog. She discards her sister’s name tag into a trash bin.

This is part of Margot’s problem, the way she can roll along for months and then be party to something so wholly fucked-up her sense of self is unsettled for a long time after, leaving her afraid of her own company, her own thoughts. Last winter, she went out walking in the middle of the night, for no reason that she could recall, and when the world came back into focus she was standing on the Stone Arch Bridge at sunrise, in a freezing wind, her lip split from the cold, her hands gloveless, knuckles skinned. She seemed to remember talking to people all through the night, there were so many people, but she had no recollection of whom she had spoken to or what had been said. And later, even though she had bathed and put on clean clothes and eaten a shriveled orange, her colleagues at the environmental nonprofit appeared vaguely alarmed by her presence when she reported to work. She kept thinking that she must have had some kind of look in her eye.

At the hotel, Filippo is still at the front desk, playing a game on his cell phone. The lights are bright in the lobby and she can see the bruised skin under his eyes, the tiny broken blood vessels around his nose. He looks very tried. She explains about the bankomat and her lost debit card—does he have any idea what she should do?

“Your card made a tasty meal,” Filippo says without glancing up from his phone.

“I’m sorry?” It occurs to Margot right then that she has yet to cross paths with another guest in the hotel. “Did you just say tasty?”

“Call your bank tomorrow.” He yawns wide. “They will figure you out.”

—

That summer, Minneapolis was haunted by a man who slapped women in the face in public. He did it outside the Franklin Ave. light-rail station and the Walker and the Soap Factory. Two women on Hennepin, less than a week between them. He would rush up to a woman, slap her with an open hand, and then run away. It took the police six weeks to find him. The fact that he did not stick to one neighborhood made it harder, they said; also he dressed like a jogger to make his running less conspicuous. For a time it felt to Margot like the slapper owned the city.

At the environmental nonprofit, some of Margot’s coworkers felt the fact of the slap made the situation worse.

“It’s humiliating to be slapped,” said Kiara, one afternoon in the break room. “Just fucking punch me in the face already.”

Emma, meanwhile, had enrolled in self-defense classes. Bianca had taken up with a neighborhood watch group comprised entirely of women.

“I dare him to come to our street,” Bianca said.

Two weeks later, the slapper would get Emma outside a bus stop. She’d planned to poke him in the eyes and then palm strike his nose, but when she saw that wide, flat hand take flight her arms stayed stuck to her sides. On the news, Margot would hear another terrible story about a woman who, as the image of a charging man swelled in her periphery, shoved her girlfriend into his path. It wouldn’t be enough for the slapper to terrorize women; he would make them turn on each other too.

On Margot’s walk to work, a route that left her feeling alone and vulnerable, she passed a sports store. Whenever she saw the window display with the blank-faced male mannequins in running clothes, her pulse surged.

“They should take those mannequins down,” she announced to the break room. “At least until this is all over.”

When the other women turned to her, brows scrunched, she realized her mistake: she’d spoken about the mannequins as though her coworkers had been privy to her thoughts. She was pretty sure they included her in these conversations only because she was a woman, and therefore a prospective victim of the slapper, even as they suspected she was somehow not quite on their side.

When Margot called Louise to tell her about the slapper, her sister advised her to spend more time at the public library. “All those things he doesn’t know,” she said, after Margot asked why this asshole would show any respect for the public library. “I bet he finds libraries very intimidating.”

Margot was standing in her tiny backyard, struggling to remember the last time she got a decent night’s sleep. “Don’t you ever want vigilante justice?”

“Vigilante justice is rarely as satisfying as people think. Auribus teneo lupum and all that.”

Louise paused and then added, “The last bit was Latin.”

“I gathered,” Margot said, and then told her sister that she needed to go.

She hadn’t asked her sister to explain the Latin because that was where Louise was most at home, explaining complicated and arcane things to other people. When she looked up a translation online, she remembered that Louise had answered with the very same phrase when her twin daughters were newborns and Margot had asked how motherhood was going. I hold a wolf by the ears. She’d understood the phrase to mean something along the lines of—there is no easy way out.

—

Margot falls asleep with the balcony door open, to the sound of dogs barking and motorbikes stalking the night, and wakes at noon to find the hotel wrapped in the densest fog she’s ever seen. She can’t make out the hillsides or the sea and the land has been overtaken by a terrible buzzing. Through the glass panes of the balcony door, she watches the wind blow the fog around like smoke. The road race has begun.

She tries Louise again. Her voicemail is full. Five minutes away from calling Sam, she texts, and then phones her bank’s twenty-four-hour helpline. According to customer service, there is nothing to do but cancel her ATM card and have a new one mailed to her in Minneapolis.

It’s early in Boston. Her sister’s husband, Sam, has moved into his own apartment in Cambridge, near the river. Her nieces like the place because he has rooftop access. They can watch the rowers practice; they can see the Prudential. Sam is a trained historian who has never finished a book. He hails from New England money and is the kind of person who looks good in gym clothes. Margot suspects Sam has never understood her chronic unease, her relationship to difficulty—he who can drink all night with louche grace and never wind up sobbing at the dinner table or vomiting in the guest bed. He who thinks changing your life is as simple as, well, changing your life.

He doesn’t answer and to his voicemail she begins articulating a plan that she has not, in any way, rehearsed. She says that Louise is missing and she is going to Rome to find her. She mentions a friend of Louise’s who lives in Monti; she tells Sam this friend has offered to help and so at this stage she does not require anything from him, nothing at all. She is just doing him the courtesy of letting him know that his wife has gone missing in a foreign country and that the whole situation will soon be under control. As she talks, she imagines tracking her sister through grand Roman piazzas, down winding streets, and over stately bridges. She longs to feel capable.

The friend in Monti is real. Margot remembers this person from Sam and Louise’s wedding, a decade ago—a tall woman with heavy eyebrows and an emerald brooch pinned to her black dress. Oh, Margot thinks. What was her name?

She opens the balcony door, to let in some air. The hillsides are white and shapeless in the fog, the roads still buzzing. A siren breaks through the race cars and then a powerful wind slams the door shut. She surveys the clothes strewn around her room. The bra splashed across the tile floor, the sandal at rest on the nightstand.

“Today I’ll go to Rome,” she says before hanging up. “I’m very nearly packed.”

—

I’m afraid your passport has been misplaced,” Filippo tells her in the lobby, after she informs him that she’ll soon be checking out. He appears to be wearing the exact same clothes as yesterday. The red collar of his polo is crinkled, the back tail untucked.

“It doesn’t matter,” he adds.

“It doesn’t matter that you lost my passport?” Margot is incredulous.

“You can’t leave today.” He points at the road race sign. “I’m taking the cable car.”

“The funicular is closed, due to high winds and fog.” “I think I’d like to speak to a manager,” she says.

“Why! I am the manager.” Filippo claps and laughs, as though she’s just told a very funny joke.

Nothing she is saying seems to be imparting a sense of urgency.

“My sister is missing,” she tries. “My sister has gone missing in Rome.”

Filippo frowns. “You told me she was delayed.”

“That was before I knew she was missing!”

“Did you hear that one of the cars went over a cliff?” Filippo rubs the face of his silver watch. “The car was demolished, of course. The driver was thrown through the windshield and landed in the arms of a tree. He broke seventeen bones but stands an excellent chance at staying alive.”

“My sister’s husband just left her.” Margot feels like getting on her knees. She feels like a stiff drink. “She could be having a nervous breakdown. She could be suicidal.”

“A miracle,” Filippo says, smiling.

—

That afternoon, Margot rushes out into the sloped streets, the cobblestones slick with condensation. She wants to see for herself that the funicular is closed. In the village center, she smells ginger and almond before she spots the bakery sign. She peers in the window and discovers an elaborate display of marzipan: ducklings, baskets of pears, round red apples. The centerpiece is a marzipan lamb, remarkably lifelike and reclining on a bed of fake grass.

She crosses the village, passes through a tall iron gate, and takes a dusty path down to the funicular station: shuttered, just as Filippo said it would be. She watches empty black cars bounce on a still cable; even from the cliffside the roaring race drowns out all other sound. In the distance, she notices a red blossoming in the hillsides, almost like a chain of explosions; the wind ferries over the scent of smoke. Something is on fire.

She climbs back up to the central piazza, with the card-swallowing bankomat and the marzipan-crazed bakery, and follows the sound of the engines down a hooked street, past young men in black aprons offering menus outside vacant restaurants, even though it’s late in the day for lunch. At the base of the village, a flat stretch of asphalt has been transformed into a parking lot for Italian race cars. Large black numbers are pasted across the passenger doors. Men in satiny racing costumes lounge by their cars, or stand together in small clusters, talking and smoking cigarettes. Some of the cars are so small it’s hard to imagine a grown man folding his body inside. Margot sits on the edge of a low stone wall. The fog is gossamer-thin down here, and she feels exposed.

The wind lifts a red scarf from one driver’s neck, a man with a small paunch and a silver beard, and sends it down the road; he chases after it, hands outstretched, a bit awkward in his racing costume. A man in street clothes bends down and intercepts the scarf. He holds on to the scarf for a moment before returning it to the driver and then, perhaps as a gesture of gratitude, the driver gives this man a tour of his car. He lets him sit in the driver’s seat. He shows what’s under the hood.

It takes Margot several minutes to realize that she’s watching the man from the foundation, the man who mistook her for her sister in the corridor and pinned her to the wall, who never let go of that white linen napkin. She watches him grip the car’s small black wheel. She watches him crawl out and shake the driver’s hand. He looks around and around, surveying the landscape, and then his attention snaps back in her direction and sticks. She stands slowly from the wall, her palms scraping the stone, and the moment she rises, the moment her knees straighten and her lungs expand, he dashes away into the fog and she chases after him.

She scurries up a stone walkway, her back to the racing cars. The path is very steep; it is leading her to something. Through the gusting fog she sees the man slip into a squat marble castle. The structure resembles a chess piece, a rook. Margot shoves open a glass door and flies past a woman in black jeans and a white T-shirt, holding out a brochure for a tour.

“Venus bathed in milk,” the woman calls out. “I can show you where.”

Margot leaps up a short flight of steps and into a courtyard, the soil lumpy with rock. At first she thinks she’s stumbled into an ancient graveyard, with all the stone fragments, some marbled with orange lichen, jutting from the earth—and in a way she’s not wrong, given that the courtyard is filled with ruins. Just ahead she spots the man weaving through the fog. She has no idea what she will do when she reaches him, what she will say.

She corners him by a well, marked by a shallow impression in the earth.

“Who are you?” He’s wearing slacks and a houndstooth sports coat. He grabs himself by the lapels. “What have you done with Louise?”

“Who am I?” Margot says, her heart aflame. Her mind flashes back to those faceless mannequins in the sports store window and to Emma dutifully practicing her choke holds and palm strikes, nurtured by the belief that preparation could save her.

Her left arm swings away from her body, as though possessed, and then she feels the base of her palm crash against his nose.

A sound like tires over gravel.

She has no technique, nothing but brute rage on her side; the pain is sudden and immense, a flaming band around her wrist.

The man stumbles forward, toward Margot, as though he might faint into her arms. Blood gushes from one of his nostrils. His lips are coated in it. He brings a hand close to his face and then his fingers flutter away.

“I’m Louise’s sister,” she says, even more unsure of what to do now.

“My god,” says the man.

Right then the woman in the white T-shirt and black jeans comes running into the courtyard, waving a brochure and saying they owe fifteen euros for visiting the ruins, doesn’t matter if they took the tour or not.

“Something has happened.” The man touches his cheekbone and winces. He spits blood onto the ancient soil.

“Fifteen euros.” The woman points a brochure at him, then marches back inside.

“I don’t have any money,” Margot says. “The bankomat ate my card.”

He stares at her for what feels like a long time, the blood slowing to a trickle, and then takes out his wallet. She roots around in her purse and hands him a napkin. He twists the paper into a cone and pushes it up his nostril. Perhaps it is this exchange, reciprocal in nature, that makes it possible for them to leave the castle together and walk back into the village center, in total silence, that is until he turns to her and asks if he can buy her a meal, a drink.

—

Margot has always wanted to be the kind of person who can become too distraught to eat, but the truth is funerals make her hungry. They pick the first restaurant they come upon. By then it’s early evening, although the fog makes it feel later. There’s a cover for sitting outside, in the chill, so they take an unsteady table in an empty grotto. He sits with his back to the wall, the paper tail of the cone dangling from his nostril, blood crusted to his upper lip. The waiter lingers on his face while delivering menus, then returns with a thin stack of paper napkins and a glass filled with ice. The man glances down at the glinting cubes, but does not make a move.

“Don’t you want to clean up?” Margot asks.

“Not particularly,” he replies, and she gets it: he wants to make her look at the damage. In the well-lit restaurant she detects new details—the dawn of a receding hairline, the high arch of his eyebrows, twin bridges. Something about his eyes, deep-set and arctic blue, and the stubble darkening his cheeks gives him the look of a person who is exhausted in a way that sleep will not cure.

She goes to the bathroom and splashes cold water on her face. She hears birds chirping. She looks all around, thinking a bird has flown into the bathroom and gotten trapped, only to realize the restaurant is piping birdsong through the walls.

When she returns, the man is finishing a martini. Margot remembers his glazed eyes when he accosted her at the foundation and it is something like comfort, to sit with another drinker right now, to not have to pretend to be different or better.

She asks for a martini too and the least expensive pasta dish, one with tomato and mint, forgetting that he’s already offered to pay. The man orders another drink and the veal.

“You were impersonating Louise,” he says. “Do you have plans to blackmail me?”

“It was only a name tag.”

If she had cried out her right name, what would have happened? Would he have straightened her underwear, lowered her dress? She isn’t so sure. She finishes her martini and orders another.

“Where is Louise?” he says next.

“Gone,” Margot says. “Missing.”

Their food arrives. She eats a bite of pasta, cooked in a broth that tastes beautifully of seawater. She wants to drink from the bowl. She decides she will treat this meal as an interrogation, root out whatever he knows about Louise. She will take all the information she wants and offer nothing in return.

“She’s gone missing and I have to find her.” Margot pauses. “What can you tell me about my sister?”

He raises his fork, a clump of veal stuck to the tines. “We fuck.”

“Did you meet at a conference?” She takes a drink, holds the cold in her mouth.

“What else are conferences for?” A blade of accusation in his voice, as though anyone who attends a conference event should be prepared for whatever happens there.

“I think she might be in Rome,” Margot says. “Do you know anything about Rome?”

“Do I know anything about Rome?”

“She has an old friend in Monti, or she used to. If only I could remember a name.”

“I’m afraid Louise and I don’t spend much time in conversation.” They’ve both emptied their cocktail glasses, leaving behind a twist of lemon, a cool shimmer; he orders a carafe of wine.

“Are you a physicist?” she asks.

“Berkeley.” He fishes an ice cube from the glass and presses it gingerly to his nose. “You?”

Margot explains about the environmental nonprofit. “Aha,” he says. “A do-gooder.”

“It’s a paycheck.” Already she’s too buzzed to be completely dishonest. “The Earth is dying and we are too late to save it.”

“An optimist too, I see. Maybe you should teach self-defense lessons instead.”

She remarks that there might be a market for such lessons in Minneapolis, given that all summer they were menaced by a man running around and slapping women in the face.

The man opens his hand and a sliver of ice slides down his palm. He hunches over in his chair, hangs his head. His shoulders tremble inside his houndstooth coat. At first she thinks he’s crying and is alarmed, ashamed—but no, he’s laughing.

“It took a long time for the police to catch him.” Under the table she feels her fingers curl into her palms. She feels her voice get big. She imagines her words shaking the laughter right out of him. “You could never let your guard down. Not for one moment.”

He looks up. His eyes have that sheen again. The grotto is still empty, no sign of their waiter even, though Margot can hear activity in the kitchen, the hiss of steam, the clank of metal.

“You got slapped,” he says. “So you slapped me.”

“I never got slapped,” she says. “Leave Minneapolis out of this.”

“Then what possessed you?” He used the lip of his glass to gesture at his bruised face.

“You know what.” She hadn’t protested in the shadowed hallway—that was true. She had felt overwhelmed by the sheer gravitational pull of the moment: the weight of his body pressed against hers, the slur of Louise in his wet mouth, her failure to find the words to explain that she had taken her sister’s name for the night, even though the explanation was, in hindsight, quite simple. She had just wanted a warm room and a few free drinks and a little revenge on Louise for leaving her alone out here; she hadn’t considered what playing the role of her sister would require of her and hadn’t that been her first mistake, to not imagine the twisted and dangerous side paths she might find herself on should she veer off course. At the same time, she knew she was lucky that something like this hadn’t happened sooner, given the nights she had stumbled through, scarcely aware that she was still on planet Earth. She looked at the man sitting across from her and wondered when he had last felt the euphoria of having been spared.

He picks up the carafe and slops more wine into his glass. “Do I?”

“Why else would you run away from me?” Margot knows he’s trying to derail her, to throw her onto a different scent. She begs herself to not fall for it.

“So what will you tell your sister? You can’t possibly be planning on the truth.”

“What will you tell her? That you couldn’t see the difference between her and another woman? That you didn’t want to?”

“Like I said, we aren’t big on small talk.”

“Well,” she says. “I can’t tell her anything until I find her.”

He slurps his wine, narrows his arctic eyes. “You want your sister’s life. Is that it?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

He pounds his fist on the table. “Why else would you impersonate her!”

It’s true what she’s saying, that she has never desired Louise’s life. All she wants is to feel like she isn’t being destroyed by the world, even as she doubts she has any right to feel destroyed at all—she has a job and a place to live and she hasn’t even been slapped! She’s long believed her sister, her brilliant and effortless Louise, figured out the trick—and it’s only now, sitting in this damp grotto across from Louise’s bloodied lover, that Margot is awakening to the depths of her wrongness, to how much she has missed.

There is no telling where Louise is right now and she can see this man has no intention of helping her.

She stands, her chair clattering, and in the bathroom she vomits into the toilet, to the sound of artificial birdsong. In the grotto, she finds that the bill has been paid in full, as promised, and that the man is gone, his white napkin slung over the back of his chair.

—

Outside Margot is unsteady on her feet. Night has fallen; the goldish eyes of the streetlamps are pressed against the smoky fog. She can no longer hear the racing cars. At long last, silence. She feels something silky brush against her fingertips. The tall white dog trots past, pace brisk, ears alert—as though he is hurrying to keep an appointment.

Her mind feels mercifully blank, her muscles loose.

She wanders the village, gets lost in a tangle of dark, narrow streets, has a few more drinks in a restaurant, this one crowded with drivers in their satin racing costumes. She is heading back in the direction of the hotel when she sees a familiar man cross the central piazza and slip into the bakery, even though the sign on the door reads chiuso. Through the window she observes Filippo handing a leather envelope to a young woman in an orange faux fur jacket that swallows up her shoulders. Margot squints at the envelope, large and purse-like, and feels a clutching in her stomach. Yet when the young woman unzips the envelope she pulls out not a passport, but a thin sheet of paper. She disappears into the back and returns carrying what looks to be an enormous cake on a white cardboard sheet, covered in a red gingham cloth. Filippo peeks under the cloth as he talks to her, his free hand rising and falling like an orchestra conductor’s, though Margot can’t make out his words.

She takes a seat at a wrought-iron café table in the piazza and waits. The café itself is closed, the table lit by a single streetlight.

When Filippo steps outside, holding the cake, he pauses and looks both ways, like he’s preparing to navigate a busy street. Margot calls his name, her voice cutting through the darkness and fog. He crosses the piazza and carefully sets the cake down on the café table.

“Oh.” His face is pinched with disappointment. “It’s you.”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

He lights a cigarette and exhales skyward, looking even more tired than he had at the hotel. The single streetlamp illuminates one side of his body, leaves the other in shadow.

“What do you have here?” Margot imagines sinking her hands into a soft, sweet cake. She imagines giving herself, and then Filippo, a mustache made of icing.

Filippo lifts the gingham cloth and she sees that the cake is not a cake at all; rather it is a giant marzipan lamb, rendered in extraordinary detail: the white curls of fur, the seashell-pink color of the inner ears.

“Next week the hotel is hosting a wedding reception.” He flicks his cigarette into a thicket of shadow. He sits down. “The bride will want to inspect the marzipan.”

In the piazza, her head swimming as it is, the future feels like a fiction, a point on the continuum that’s been bundled in fog and pushed out to sea.

“I have to go to Rome,” she tells him. “I have to find my sister.”

“The race is over,” Filippo says. “I’ll call you a taxi in the morning myself.”

“I can’t go anywhere without my passport.” She has no idea where the closest U.S. embassy is located. Trapani? Palermo? “Did you take it? Are you going to give it back?”

“I suppose you’ll find out tomorrow.” He unclips the silver watch and places it on the table. He shakes out his wrist. “Do you people ever consider the possibility that none of you have anything that we want?”

She stares down at the lamb’s polished hooves and silvered snout, its round white belly. The longer she looks the more bloated the belly seems, so pink and swollen that if she found a knife and cut it open something alive would tumble out.

“This looks very real.” With her fingernail she taps a marzipan hoof.

He tells her it is not enough for the lamb to look real—it must look at once like a real lamb and like something sprung from a dream. It must have a certain aura. That was what separated the marzipan amateurs from the masters, the ability to create the right aura.

“An aura,” Margot repeats. Once a coworker at the nonprofit told her that she had an unsettled aura about her. She closes her eyes and is visited by a disembodied hand holding a white linen napkin. The hand shakes the napkin like a matador luring a bull.

Her eyes snap open. She sniffs the air and catches a hint of smoke.

“The hillsides are on fire,” she says.

“The firefighters only get paid if there are fires.” Filippo pulls the gingham cloth over the lamb. “So they start the fires and then run around putting them out.”

She hears a rushing sound and then the white dog gallops across the piazza, leading a pack of a dozen—no, two dozen, three dozen—strays. She watches the leader fling its massive paws into the night, white fur rigid as armor. Some dogs run in a long canter, others in a chop. They make her want to get down on all fours. They make her want to go fast and far. How do she and Filippo know that they are not just living inside a dog’s dream?

“Louise,” Filippo says.

She clutches the iron arms of her chair. It is a terrible shock, that name. She remembers walking through the automatic doors of the hotel, feeling jet-lagged and bewildered by her sister’s garbled call. She remembers setting her suitcase down at the front desk and saying Louise.

She looks down at the silver watch on the table, the hands clocking the changing hour. It is nearly midnight.

Through the cloth she strokes the marzipan lamb’s fat belly. “My name is Margot.”

“Margot?” He frowns. “Who’s Margot?”

When it happens she thinks, For as long as I live I’ ll never forget this sound.

In the village, all the church bells begin to ring. In the hillsides, the dogs howl.

Laura van den Berg is the author of the story collections What the World Will Look Like When All the Water Leaves Us and The Isle of Youth, and the novels Find Me and The Third Hotel, which was a finalist for the New York Public Library Young Lions Fiction Award. She is the recipient of a Rosenthal Family Foundation Award from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, the Bard Fiction Prize, a PEN/O. Henry Prize, a MacDowell Colony fellowship, and is a two-time finalist for the Frank O’Connor International Short Story Award. Her next collection of stories, I Hold a Wolf by the Ears, will be published by FSG in July. Born and raised in Florida, Laura splits her time between the Boston area and Central Florida, with her husband and dog. | You can preorder I Hold a Wolf by the Ears here.

#American Short Fiction

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