Chapter Text
(Music: “ Space out these Logos ”, by John Powell & Michael Giacchino)
Fire exploded across the stars, lighting up the galaxy as Jedi Padawan Skye swerved through the Separatist fighters in his starfighter, taking them out as fast as he could. He was a really good pilot, but nothing like the likes of Knight Anakin Skywalker or Master Sasee Tinn, both of whom were excellent pilots in their own right. Knight Skywalker… even more so. If anything, he was almost as good as his Master, Plo Koon. One of the calmest and respected Jedi in the order. The first few months of the Clone Wars were rough. The republic was losing left and right, from what he understood. Currently, the battle he was in was set to be a stalemate, so he hoped they could gain a victory from this. It probably wouldn’t be enough, though, as he heard the Seppies, or Clankers, as the Clones referred to them, had infinite numbers of droids.
“Skye, return to the Triumphant. We’re pulling out! ” Master Plo’s voice rang over the coms. Skye looked around. While he did what he could, the battle was not going in their favor. For a few hours, it seemed like a stalemate until the Separatists gained reinforcements. Of course, they brought in more reinforcements. It was one of those few losses in the early days of the war. He wanted the Republic to win this battle, but even at a young age, he understood that not everything was going to go to plan for the Republic. He sighed.
“Understood, Master. C’mon R2.” Skye said with disappointment. Turning his starfighter, he raced back towards the Triumphant. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his Master’s starfighter heading in that same direction. He could feel his master’s disappointment at the battle, yet he always remained calm about it. Alongside Knight Skywalker and Master Kenobi, Master Plo was one of the most respected and calm Jedi in the order. How he was able to be so level-headed during combat was sometimes unknown to Sky because all he ever knew since this whole thing started was fighting and combat. To put it simply, being a soldier. He was taught that the Jedi were meant to bring peace, not be troopers or generals in a war they never wanted to be a part of. That didn’t mean he had his calm moments, but he wished he could just forget everything.
“SKYE, LOOK OUT!” Plo’s voice screamed. At the same time, his jet-black astromech, R2-NF42, shrieked a warning. Skye whirled around and saw a Vulture droid flying right at him from behind, firing its blasters. With quick thinking, Skye swerved around to dodge the Vulture, doing his best to fly back to the Triumphant, flying through debris, broken scraps, and destroyed ships. He hoped it would be enough to lose the Vulture, maybe even have it destroyed in the process. But it kept on coming, yet he was almost in range of the Triumphant. Suddenly, the starfighter rocked, and Skye heard R4 screaming as his head was blown off. It wasn’t long before Skye heard the thundering of the Triumphant’s cannons destroying the Vulture droid. As he shook his head, he registered a beeping and saw a flash of red on his console.
‘KRIFF! ’
That Vulture rocked his ship so hard that Skye accidentally banged his head on the Hyperdrive, switching it on. “MASTER! MY HYPERDRIVE’S BEEN ACTIVATED!” Skye screamed into the comms.
“Get clear, my Padawan! Whatever happens, remember your training. Trust in the force! ” Skye nodded and turned his starfighter away from the Venators into the deep void of space. He focused on Master Plo’s words: ‘Remember your training, and trust in the force.’ While Master Plo did train him, there came times when Knight Skywalker taught him how to survive in the unknown. As the darkness turned to light blue, Skye braced himself for what he might find out there.
Notes:
For Newcomers, this will be heavily based on How to Train Your Dragon and Pooh's Heffalump Movie, and it's also the first book in a brand-new trilogy of mine. However, despite being a crossover story, this first book is ultimately a small-scale story set in the Hundred-Acre Wood, so don't expect big battles in space or whatnot. I don't own any of the characters, as they belong to either Disney or Dreamworks, except for the original character that I created for this story.
Warning: I have used AI to scan through spelling mistakes and grammar errors.
Chapter Text
Deep in the Hundred-Acre Wood
Where Christopher Robin plays
You'll find the enchanted neighborhood
Of Christopher's childhood days…
(Music: “ Ellie Remembers ”, by John Powell)
Máni, the bright white moon, dominated the Sky of Eikathal. The soft night breeze flew through the woods, bringing a much-needed coolness to the previous heat of the Summer day. Fireflies flew across the grass, their green lights on the back end of their tail shining and blinking brightly, either to communicate with one another or attract a mate. So many were flying around the meadows that it just so happened that these were the perfect conditions for flashlight tag with the Fireflies. Darby Robin Christensen ran along the meadows of the Hundred-Acre Woods with a flashlight in hand. Her bright, yet short, Auburn hair flowed flawlessly through the wind, and her loyal white terrier dog, covered in dominant white fur, with a brown spot at the tip of his right ear, and a brown spot by the middle of his back, Buster, followed her by her heels.
Darby’s friends followed them: a yellow anthropomorphic Teddy bear with a red shirt named Winnie-the-Pooh; an orange, striped anthropomorphic toy Tiger who loves to bounce, mainly with his tail, named Tigger; a young Kangaroo/Joey named Roo; and a Heffalump named Lumpy. All of whom have been here since before Darby, or even one of their older friends, Christopher Robin, even met them. Whenever that was. Christopher Robin’s name was cemented throughout the woods as being known as Pooh’s greatest friend. Unfortunately, he had to leave a few times due to school, which led to a grave misunderstanding, leading the residents to believe he was captured by a mythical dinosaur called the Skullasaurus. The next time he came back was when everyone made peace with the once-feared Heffalumps.
It was around that time that he introduced his sister, Darby, and her dog, Buster, to the residents. While initially very shy and uncomfortable, she slowly warmed up to them. The residents, however, were ecstatic to meet her and Buster, showing her all around the woods. Though the woods were not without their few squabbles and needs for help, especially when it came to Tigger & Rabbit. Moreover, the woods were filled with mysteries within and beyond. This led Darby, who had a knack for solving things and playing around with her newfound friends, to form the Super Sleuths.
“Ha-ha, it is. It's a really nice summer night, Buster. I mean, look around! We’re playing flashlight tag with the fireflies!” Switching off her flashlight, Darby allowed the darkness to take over while also allowing the fireflies to show off their incredible displays, as the night was lit up by the green light of their tails.
“It sure would be nice to fly around like them. Wouldn’t it?” Darby pondered.
“And to be able to lighty-uppity,” Tigger said, startling Darby & Buster for a little. “But Tiggers have their own way of doing flicketies.” Tigger’s tail then wrapped around the light and switched it on, attracting two—no, four fireflies, circling his light, before happily bouncing off as the fireflies chased his light, thinking he was one of them. While Darby and Buster watched Tigger bounce off, Buster almost flinched when a brave little firefly landed right on his nose. Darby saw this and giggled.
“Looks like you’ve got a new friend, Buster.” Buster smiled at the little firefly on his nose. Not many bugs were brave enough to approach him, let alone land on his nose.
“Why, hello, little firefly,” Pooh said gleefully, taking notice of the little firefly on Buster’s nose. However, said firefly then flew off into the night, probably a little startled, or flying off to join his kin again.
“And goodbye, little Firefly,” Pooh said, watching it fly off. Buster barked at the Firefly, which flew off from his nose, and Darby seemed to get an idea of what he was thinking.
“Good idea, Buster, let’s follow that one!” The group of friends bolted off after the firefly which “tagged” Buster, switching their flashlights on to illuminate the darkness as they followed the firefly, leading them through twists and turns around trees and bushes, until it eventually brought them to a meadow.
“Stay with it! Stay with it!” Darby called out as the others laughed, following the lone firefly as they passed many more. Darby was catching up to it, being the runner that she was, and she almost lost everyone in the dust…
(Music: “ The Emperor ”, by Hans Zimmer)
BA-DOOM!
…Only to be startled by the loudest sound all of them have ever heard without warning, and were forced to cover their ears instantly. Not only that, but the sound spooked so much of the wildlife that hundreds of flocks of birds flew off from their nests, and the fireflies flew off into the darkness. Maybe even some smaller wildlife scampered to wherever their safe places were, too.
“AH! What the—” Roo yelled out in fright.
“Sonic boom!” Darby hollered. “But what could—” She was stopped mid-sentence when all of a sudden, the sky turned from night to an instant day, drawing everyone’s attention to the stars.
“Whoaaaaaa!” Awe-struck them as they saw a bright projectile soar through the night, emitting the brightest fiery light anyone had ever seen.
“That… is a very large Firefly,” Pooh said in awe. The others were probably thinking the same thing, being the narrow-minded, stuffed anthropomorphic animals they are. Darby, however, thought otherwise. No firefly was that huge. Nor was it bright with fire streaming from its starting point. As quickly as the light appeared in the stars, it vanished behind the trees, the Sky reverting to its starry night once again.
“That wasn’t a firefly, Pooh,” The eleven-year-old replied, correcting him. “I think it was a shooting star!”
Lumpy’s awe grew wider. “It was so bright and fiery!” On that, everyone agreed. Darby, more or less.
“I wonder where it landed.” She pondered. Tigger took charge of the situation and directed them to where he thought it might have landed.
“It looks like it shooted itself, right over there!” Tigger bounced on all fours, taking the lead with Darby, Pooh, Lumpy, Buster, and Roo all behind him as they ran into the woods, looking for the shooting star, or as Darby had correctly remembered its name, meteorite. Or at least what she thought was a meteorite. Because as they scoured the woods, Darby replayed the memory over and over again. She could’ve sworn she saw some silver linings on that meteorite. Maybe a hint of… color ? She had heard about some comets having Purple as their main color, a color that just so happened to be one of her favorites. She pushed the thought aside. She’d get a good look at the meteorite sooner or later. She didn’t exactly know how many minutes had passed as they searched, but her own voice broke her train of thought.
“I thought it landed over here somewhere.” She wondered out loud. Pooh was using binoculars to search for the meteorite, too.
“Twinkle, twinkle, Shooting star!! ” Tigger called out from afar.
“How I wonder where you—” Pooh started to say, but got cut off, “—are.” Because he saw the purple ladybug/beetle hybrid, Small, wandering on the leaves, just going about his life. Pooh smiled seeing Rabbit’s little friend again. “Hello, Small.” The little bug waved back before Tigger showed up.
“Hey there, buggy boy,” Tigger said, as Pooh glanced between him and Small. “Say, ya notice anything strange around here tonight like—” Tigger was about to say what he and the others were looking for, but halted himself so as not to make Small frightened or anything. But he decided to go anyway. “Oh, I don’t know. A big shooting star falling out of the sky?” He expected Small to freak out, but surprisingly, the bug was taking the question quite well. Besides, he’s seen stranger things in the woods. But he lowered his head in thought and shook it, not having seen the shooting star, unfortunately.
‘Dang it .’ Darby thought. That light was bright enough to illuminate the entire woods. If not, the sound was loud enough to shake the whole Hundred Acres. Small should’ve at least seen the light or heard the rumble. But she digressed and looked to the others. “The wood is an awfully big place; that shooting star could have landed anywhere.”
A thought crossed Tigger’s mind about the woods being a huge place. “Why, it could be right behind us, and we’d never even—” Tigger was about to finish his thought when a loud trumpeting sound echoed across the woods, making everyone flinch a little. Lumpy, however, recognized the sound anywhere.
“Oh, heffle huffle. My mummy’s calling.” He said dejectedly. “I have to go home.”
“Yeah, it’s getting kinda late.” Darby concurred as everyone started to notice how late it was in the woods. She had to head home soon anyway, through the tree portal, back to her home.
“Is it?” Pooh said in slight shock, before letting a big yawn take over him as he spoke, his eyes becoming sleepy. “No wonder I’m feeling a little drowsy-eyed.”
Darby yawned and slung a friendly shoulder over Pooh. Despite their search, they had a lot of fun with the fireflies. But Darby, despite her sleepiness, wanted to find that meteorite. “We can look for the shooting star again in the morning.” She proposed as the group began to walk out into the meadows.
“Oh, I wish we could join you,” Roo started dejectedly, but quickly replaced it with adventure and optimism. “But Lumpy and I are going on a Pooh-rates adventure.”
“Ahoy!” Lumpy called out as the two best buds made their way to their homes. They have really come a long way since the Woods made peace with the Heffalumps 2 years ago, and the two have never left each other's side since then.
“Have fun,” Tigger called out. “And don’t take any wooden doubloons!”
“Goodnight, everybody!” Tigger called out, with Pooh and Darby following suit, before the duo left, leaving Darby and Buster the only ones in the area.
“Goodnight, Pooh. See you tomorrow, Tigger.” With that, Darby looked down at her flashlight and switched it off. “See you tomorrow, too.”
Smoldering. That was one way to describe his now damaged Starfighter, and add to the fact that the cockpit was filled with smoke, too. Unrepairable unless it were in the hands of a Republic repair station; then it’d be up and running. But in this state, the option of repair was rendered moot. Two low thuds echoed from within the cockpit before a third one blasted the durasteel glass shield off the starfighter. Skye weakly climbed out of the seat and tried to climb out, only to slip and fall to the ground. A sharp, fiery pain erupted in his abdomen. Looking down on it, he realized a piece of shrapnel was embedded in his abdomen, and it hurt. A lot. Looking over his starfighter from his fallen position, Skye saw that the damage was insanely extensive. Engines were fired, controls were down as far as he knew, and the rest…
Well, let’s just say the starfighter would explode, even if it got in the air. His astromech, R2-NF42, was destroyed beyond repair from all of the gunfire by the Separatists. A large certainty crossed his mind. With the starfighter the way it was, there was no way he was getting off wherever he was. The pain erupted in his stomach again, and Skye had to crawl over as far as he could away from the starfighter and use the Force to help himself stay alive, though it was still taking a toll on his energy. He managed to find a bush after… he didn’t even know how long he was crawling, with a rock by it. Skye would’ve taken the shrapnel out, but he would’ve lost a lot of blood, and he would pass out at best, or at worst, pass away. The only thing he could do now was rest and regain his energy. As he did, he looked up to the stars.
Wherever he was, whatever planet he was on, it brought him tranquility; looking at the stars allowed him to calm his mind. Something about this world he crashed on brought him unexpected peace. He hoped Master Plo, alongside either Knight Skywalker or Master Kenobi, would send search parties out to find him. Skye slowly allowed himself to drift off into sleep in hopes of regaining his energy. But as he did, a thought crossed his mind before his vision was enveloped by complete Darkness.
‘My Lightsaber… ’
All was quiet in the Hundred-Acre Woods from the rest of the night up to the afternoon. The birds were singing cheery songs, and the butterflies and bees were zipping through the air, hunting for sweet nectar to drink from the flowers. And the pooh-rate duo had their fair share of roleplaying. It was something Lumpy and Roo came up with after hearing stories of beings called pooh-rates out in the unknown regions, hunting for treasure.
“C’mon, Lumpster,” Roo said in his best pooh-rate voice. “We’d best get moving before some scallywag finds our treasure.” Lumpy helped him out with the packing earlier, but Roo was now adding the finishing items to their supply list.
“Right-o, matey,” Lumpy replied. The duo were indeed packed for this. They had shovels, a map, and more equipment to help locate and figure out clues to said treasure that they had apparently heard was left untouched in the woods. Lumpy was waiting for him at the entrance of the homemade fort as Roo finished packing the rest of their supplies. He looked at his best friend and gave a thumbs-up, letting him know they were ready. Lumpy followed up with a salute. Roo threw his bag over his shoulder, and Lumpy took his own with his trunk. The former of the two was about to jump down and join Lumpy on their little adventure when he stopped all of a sudden. Something caught his attention, halting their playful journey immediately. His sudden halt caught Lumpy’s attention, too.
“What is it, Roo?” the young Heffalump asked. He looked behind him to see where Roo was looking, but no one was there. Usually, when they stopped, it’d be because of a visit from someone, like Tigger, Pooh, Darby, their parents, or someone else. Lumpy glanced back at Roo and saw that he was trying hard to concentrate his focus on something. Whatever it was, it was enough to catch Roo off guard and halt their adventure. Roo kept moving his head, trying to locate what he saw. For a second, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him and that his eyes were deceiving him. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t nothing. He squinted harder to try and find out what it was. Nothing.
Then, something lit up in the distance from Roo’s view.
“I saw something flash over there!” Roo said, pointing to where the spark had come from.
“Where?!” Lumpy asked, his curiosity and interest piqued. Roo bounced down to his level, returning to his roleplay mode.
(Music: “ Gom Jabbar ”, by Hans Zimmer)
“Could be that lost treasure left behind so we can claim it for our own, Lumpster.” Roo declared.
“Aye matey. It could very well be a lost treasure or something else of interest that can benefit us.” Lumpy replied, slipping back into his roleplay mode.
“Only one way to find out, my comrade. Let’s go see what we have on our hands!” Roo declared, bouncing with purpose and curiosity, with Lumpy galloping after him. Their curiosities were immediately piqued by what this flash Roo saw could be. The possibilities were endless. Or it may be that left-over treasure they were hoping to find left by some Scallywags. As they continued moving through the woods, parts of the forest started to become a little denser, and the two started to think they may have veered way off course. Until the flash got brighter.
“Come on!” Roo exclaimed. He bounced forward, and Lumpy bounded after him, their thoughts now certain they were coming close to their target. When they arrived, they found a massive row of foliage and bushes blocking their sight. “I think it's just beyond this bush!” Roo said. The duo pushed through the bush to see the source of the flash, wondering if it was any lost treasure or something. But what they saw when they came out on the other side made all thoughts be thrown out the window, as the thing that stood before them did not resemble treasure of any kind. “YEOW!!” Roo cried out, dropping his roleplay act instantly. Lumpy let out a sharp gasp at the sight of what they saw. The light that caught Roo’s attention in the first place wasn’t any piece of treasure whatsoever. Rather, a massive streamlined capsule or something. Triangular in shape, with something blown off at the back of it.
“What is that?!” Lumpy sounded, his curiosity now replaced by an unmistakable awe at the metal thing in front of them.
“How did it get here?!” Roo questioned again.
“Where did it come from?!” Lumpy asked again. All of the questions hung over Roo and Lumpy’s minds. Too many big questions to answer, for this jet-like thing’s origins were a massive mystery to them. Unless they had— The two whirled around, and they yelled the words out at the same time.
“SUPER SLEUTHS!!! ”
Notes:
Eikathal means it's inspired by Yggdrasil, the world tree, and eik (oak), emphasizing the interconnectedness of nature.
Chapter 3: Chapter 2: The Boy Who Fell From The Stars
Chapter Text
Roo bounced as far and as fast as he could to the hill where he knew that would bring the famed Super Sleuths of the Hundred-Acre Woods to them, and when he did, he let that siren run loud, echoing across the entire Hundred-Acre Woods. Said siren was a trumpet tied to a flagpole, and the trumpet was connected to a fireplace bellows through a green hose tied around the pole. It wasn't the most impressive build, but it got its job through because it didn’t take long for Darby, Tigger, Pooh, and Buster to head to the changing tree, where they always go to prepare for a case when the siren sounds. This case, however, would be one of the most unexpected finds yet.
“Hey, Buster,” Darby said, still a little tired. “Looks like it's time for another case, bud.”
Buster, all of a sudden, let out a little whimper as if to remind her of something. Which she caught onto.
“OH yeah! We were going to look for that shooting star we saw last night. Weren’t we?” Buster barked an affirmative, causing her to chuckle a little. Cases come first; playtime comes later. “I guess we’ll just have to look for it later.” Darby then fell into her pocket and pulled out a navy blue baseball hat with a yellow upside-down triangle set in the middle, and a green question mark in the middle of that triangle, too. The insignia of the Super Sleuths. “Time to slap on my cap.”
The second after she said that, donning her cap, the tell-tale whooping of Tigger sounded as he flew out of the top hole of the changing tree, with a navy blue long-sleeve shirt on, with the same insignia set in the center of his shirt, and wearing a yellow ski mask. Pooh rolled out from the underside, landing right next to Tigger, wearing a navy blue version of his normal red shirt, with the insignia set in the middle, and wearing a navy blue superhero mask just over his eyes. The Sleuths have assembled.
“Costumes on, and ready to sleutherize.” Tigger declared; Pooh nodded in agreement.
“Then it’s time to say the oath,” Darby said, joining them in the middle. “Everyone together.”
“Anytime… ” Tigger started.
“Any place… ” Pooh continued.
“The Super Sleuths… ” Darby continued.
“ARE ON THE CASE! ” They all finished, before turning their heads upon hearing Buster bark, who shook his body as his dog tag flipped to reveal the Question mark on his gold tag, before barking again. Tigger brought up the telescope and raised it to look at where the finder flag indicated they should ride to. Conveniently, said flag was at the same place as the Sleuther siren, where the person who needed help attached their location to a flag and pulled it up to let the sleuths know where they wanted them. Currently, the white space within the flag was colored black with a skull and crossbones set in the middle.
“To the pooh-rates fort, everyone!” Tigger called out before leaping into the top tree hole, followed by Darby, Buster, and Pooh in the lower entrance. On the other side of the tree, a wooden ramp fell, and said ramp opens up an exit where the Sleuths race out on their scooters, allowing them to leap into action as they ride towards their next case. Now, would you say that’s a little dangerous? I definitely think so. But they were pros at this by now. On the road, the sleuths leapt, ducked, and weaved through the forest as they raced towards Roo and Lumpy’s fort, which was in the farther areas of the woods, as it was covered with more trees, bushes, foliage, and whatnot. Before they even knew it, the fort was in sight, letting the Sleuths know that they had arrived at their destination.
“DARBY! ” As soon as she got off, Darby was almost knocked back by Roo hugging her. Strangely, though, it wasn’t out of joy, but it almost seemed as if he was frightened of something.
“What is it, Roo?” She asked, noticing the change in expressions.
Roo started rambling at a really fast pace, which was almost a little too much for everyone to keep up with. “Wewerepreparingforournext- poohratesmissionwhenwespottedaflashinglightinthedistanceandwhenwewenttocheckitoutwesawthisreallygianttrianglethingyand—”
“Whoa, slow down, Roo,” Darby said, holding her hands up as she cut him off. “You saw what?”
Lumpy and Roo exchanged glances before turning back to the sleuths. “I think it’s better if we show you.” The fear in Roo’s voice was noticeable. Normally, he wasn’t scared of so many things. Ok, maybe a few things, but nothing that really terrified him to this level. So to see him like really, really frightened of something was a first. Darby and the Sleuths glanced at each other, wondering what could possibly scare him and Lumpy that bad. The pooh-rates duo led the Sleuths down the same path they went down earlier, and the Sleuths followed along, their curiosity spiked by whatever they found. As the group followed Roo and Lumpy, their expressions changed. It seemed they were nearing whatever Roo and Lumpy found. They didn’t even know how much time had passed since they all made this little trek.
Along the way, Roo decided to fill them in on what happened. “We were preparing for our adventure to locate lost treasure,” Roo started.
“When we saw something flash in the distance.” Lumpy continued.
“Something shiny, ey?” Tigger inquired.
“You could say that,” Lumpy said, almost hesitantly, which Darby took notice of.
“We went to investigate, having to cross through this really dense part of the forest…” Roo continues on. It was at this point that the Sleuths noticed the trees were a lot denser, as if they were the shadows before a big reveal, which was exactly what it was. The duo then led the Sleuths through a set of bushes and foliage before finally reaching the clearing. “...and when we came out of the bushes, we saw… THAT! ”
(Music: “The Burning Mountain ”, by Tom Holkenborg)
Roo wasn’t kidding. The moment the Sleuths exited the bushes, their eyes widened in shock at what was standing right before them. Wedged deep into the ground, leaving a massive gash in the dirt, is what seemed to be a capsule of unknown origin, triangular.
“WHOA! ” Darby yelled out.
“Yeah. What you said.” Tigger concurred. Buster let out a little surprise whistle as well, to which Tigger replied, “And that too.”
“Why, Roo…” Pooh started, as he cautiously moved forward, scratching his head, “I don’t suppose this is one of Rabbit’s gardening tools?”
“No way, Pooh,” The young joey shook his head. “This is way bigger than anything Rabbit has.”
Darby moved forward with caution, her sneakers crunching softly against the dirt, with Buster close behind. Her heart pounded as she took in the size of the object before her. It was like something out of a dream—no, something out of a storybook. The ones her brother, Christopher Robin, might have imagined in one of his many great adventures. A Pod, if she remembered the name right? Though she couldn’t be sure.
Tigger, meanwhile, let out an exaggerated cat-calling whistle. “Now that’s what I call a doozy of a ding-dang-what-cha-ma-call-it!” He bounced back and forth across the wreckage, eyes darting across the strange markings carved into the metal. “I mean, just look at this thing! It’s all—glowy and—space-y and—hoo-hoo! This is so not from around here.”
Buster, having been quietly sniffing at the dirt near the ship, let out a tiny, impressed bark.
“Almost as if it’s not… from this world.” Tigger mused as he ran his hand along the cool metal. This caught Darby’s attention as all of the pieces in her mind snapped together.
“TIGGER, I bet you’re right!” She exclaimed with excitement, “I think this pod is the shooting star we were looking for last night!” Turning her gaze upward, Darby came up with a theory on the trajectory where this pod landed and pointed her finger upward—the way the glowing streak had fallen from the heavens, cutting through the sky. “It must’ve fallen from the sky and gone through the forest along this path.” Everyone’s gaze followed her directions before landing on the ship again as Darby finished her theory, “And then crashed right here.”
“So you’re saying this space pod, whatever this thing is, was what we all saw last night?” Roo asked, trying to make sense of this whole thing.
“I think so,” Darby said, her voice growing a little small, as even she was a little dumbfounded herself. “I mean, what else could’ve lit up the night like that?” She’d seen her fair share of comets and meteors, but those were always up with the stars every now and then. Plus, they were really rare. It’s not like she was an astronomer or something. As the group continued to study this new discovery, Buster’s snout caught a strange metallic, copper-like scent. Curiosity overtaking him, Buster followed the scent around to the other side of the pod, past the engines, where the scent was strongest. When he did, he barked out loud, alerting the others.
“What is it, Buster?” Darby asked, coming around to see what her dog had found. When she did, though, she froze, her pupils dilating to a smaller size. “G—guys?” She stammered. The more she learned about this pod, the more it started to unnerve her. Especially with what Buster found. Tigger and the others came over, and they, too, froze at the sight that beheld them.
“T—that’s not what I think it is,” Roo asked, his own fear rising more. “Is it?”
It was. Darby recognized that scarlet red liquid anywhere, even when it was mixed in with the dirt. She’d seen it countless times in her few medical studies that her mom taught her, and during the few times she got hurt. They all thought the exact same thing, but no one said anything.
“D—do you think it could be… S—space woozles!? Coming out from that p—p—pod?! S—stalking us right now?!” Tigger said, his fear starting to grow.
“Or c—creatures here to take us away in their pods.” Pooh then spoke. In reality, Tigger and Pooh were not that far off, except not in the ways they’d expected to be.
‘ Or what if someone’s hurt ?’ Darby thought . She blinked and realized that she had said that in her thoughts. Why? Normally, she’d be one to voice her questions, too, but for some reason, she spoke that in her mind.
“What do we do now?” Lumpy asked. Everyone glanced at each other, and they were probably all thinking the same thought.
“Wait,” Roo said, as he broke the silence. “You’re not actually thinking of following that trail.”
“I mean… if we wanna solve this outer space mystery then… we kinda have to,” Darby said, but even she was a little unsure about this whole thing. Tigger and Pooh glanced at each other, really not liking the situation they were in. Lumpy and Roo also looked a little unsure, but even they had their curiosity piqued. Darby, as much as this mystery weirded her out, was the only one willing to go forward.
“We’ll go with you, Darby,” Roo said, his bravery coming through. “Whatever lies at the end of this trail, we’ll face it together.”
“Thanks, Roo,” Darby said. Buster barked in agreement. Tigger huffed and relented, expressing his discomfort, but he was willing to do this for her. Pooh mirrored a similar expression. He didn’t like it, but it was the only way to solve this mystery.
“Then everyone, we move with the utmostest, extremest caution,” Tigger advised, which they all took to heart. So they moved forward, their minds filled with caution and different theories on who or what the pod could’ve held, seeing as there was someone or something of outer space origin. While the Sleuths moved with caution, Roo got a bit ahead of himself and inadvertently started bouncing further away from the Sleuths while following the trail. Said path led him to a little cluster of bushes with one or two trees that seemed to close in the more he approached. When he looked up, he halted immediately, realizing he had gone too far from the Sleuths. He looked back and saw them from a distance before glancing back.
There was a bush in front of him, and he had a moment of Deja vu, remembering when he and Lumpy first discovered the pod. It all led up to this. Who or whatever the pod held was behind that bush, waiting to be discovered. Roo steeled himself and repelled his earlier fear before bravely scuttling through the bushes to see where that trail ended. He was expecting to see something on the other side of the bush, maybe an animal or a space creature or something. All thoughts flew out the door as what he saw made his face drop in horror.
Darby and the others were slowly following the trail, oblivious to Roo getting way ahead of them, but moving with the extreme caution Tigger advised. As they continued on, Darby started sorting through the thoughts in her head. The possibilities of what or who it may be. Aliens were not that far off since they made it clear that the pod was from space, maybe even a distant galaxy that had yet to be explored. Whether the thoughts of said alien being hostile or not was still to be determined when they reached the end of the trail. That is, if they can see who or what was at the end of said trail they were following.
“GUYS, GUYS! COME QUICK, COME QUICK! ” The sound of Roo’s frightful hollering brought the Sleuths out of their cautiousness, and it was only now that they registered that Roo was way ahead of them, more than they realized. But from the tone of his voice, it seemed like he found something. Without hesitation, they bolted down the trail as fast as they could until they reached a covered canopy within the woods and found the trail leading to a big bush, circling a rock. Darby and the others dove into the bush with fierce determination, hoping to find answers to this weird case. She was the first to exit.
“Roo, what are you—” Darby let out a shocked gasp mid-sentence as she saw what Roo found before her. Tigger, Pooh, Buster, and Lumpy all pushed through the bush, their reactions the same as Darby’s. Lying there on the rock, covered in cuts and bruises, was a young boy, almost Darby’s age, but not much older than her, and clothed in strange brownish robes. Trailing from his light-dark hair was a small braid that led down to his shoulder. To put it plainly, this boy’s seen better days.
“GREAT SCOTTERY, LOOK!” Tigger cried out, pointing to something on the young boy. Everyone followed his gaze, and fear struck them as they saw a massive piece of shrapnel embedded in the boy’s abdomen. With haste, Darby placed two fingers on his neck to check for blood pressure. Her eyes widened. He was alive. Barely. Any normal person, a kid no less, would’ve died from a piece of shrapnel in their abdomen if not treated immediately. She knew that from her health classes with her mom. How he was able to stay alive was wild, fascinating even. ‘ This boy’s got guts .’ She thought. That was a massive will to live if she ever knew someone like that. But right now, he needed medical attention and fast. And she just so happened to know two of the best folks in the Hundred-Acre Woods, she taught for that job, before whirling around to Roo.
“Roo, Buster, go get Rabbit and Owl. Tell them to bring as many medical supplies as they can, including a stretcher. Use my scooter if you have to.” Darby said to the young Joey. “I’ll stay here with Lumpy and the other sleuths and keep an eye on him should he wake up. Now GO!” Roo didn’t need to be told twice. With all of his might and speed, Roo bounced off to the fortress, going as fast as he could, with Buster right on his tail. Darby turned her attention back to the young boy. Something about him made her feel weird. In a good way. She shook her head and directed her attention over to Tigger, Pooh, and Lumpy. She had learned a few medical techniques back in School and from her mom, too, and she hoped that when Roo got back with Rabbit and Owl, it wouldn’t be too late. For now, she’d have to play the cards she’s been dealt.
“Tigger, Pooh, Lumpy, I’m gonna need your help.”
A few hours later, with the help of Rabbit and Owl, Darby and the Sleuths, along with Roo and Lumpy, managed to safely transport the unconscious boy to Rabbit’s house. Darby was able to teach Tigger, Pooh, and Lumpy some bandaging techniques her mother taught her when she was very young. The three didn’t fully understand since they had the attention span of sparrows, but they were able to get the young boy patched up. After that, however, Owl had to leave on short notice, but they all thanked him for his help. Now, all that was left was for Rabbit to get the piece of shrapnel out of the boy’s belly. Rabbit needed silence and precision for this operation to work, which is exactly what was given. As the bunny worked, Darby’s mind spun. The young boy had held out for this long since last night.
Situations like this she’d heard of ended up in a really bad way, with a small chance of the person surviving. That is, if it didn’t hit anything serious. The others just sat in a quiet circle, whispering amongst themselves. She was lucky to have found books from her mom for this, so Rabbit and Owl could teach themselves how to do it if the situation ever came to pass. Lucky for her, Rabbit was able to spend some time studying the techniques, and they came in very handy. With his equipment and precision, he was able to safely and steadily get the shrapnel out of him and place it by his sink. He quickly waved Darby over, and the two cleaned and bandaged the wound on him, as well as other spots on him, with warm cloths. The boy barely stirred. His breathing was shallow yet steady.
Pooh tilted his head, his round belly rising and falling as he pondered the situation. “I don’t suppose he’s a lost honey salesman?”
Rabbit snorted. “Not likely.”
Rabbit then moved to check for any other injuries on the young boy, but when he pulled back his tunic, the room erupted in a bright glow of blue light, causing everyone to shield their eyes, which quickly dimmed after a second or two. The group looked at the symbol in awe. It was unlike anything they’d ever seen before—a circular emblem with intricate patterns, pulsing faintly beneath his skin. It looked almost alive.
“What… is that?” Roo asked his mind in awe at the unknown symbol.
“I… I don’t even know.” Rabbit admitted. In all of his years in the Hundred-Acre Woods, nothing has ever come close to what he has seen here.
“Well, whatever it is,” Tigger hummed, stroking his chin, “It sure is glowy.”
Darby slowly reached out and brushed her fingers along the glow. It seemed to react to her touch, yet in a subtle way. It felt warm, like the sunlight on summer afternoons. She felt a warmth flow through her upon feeling the glow. It was calming, soothing even, and she did not want it to end. But she had to pull away, not wanting to make it seem like she was obsessed or something. Now, that would be embarrassing. Meanwhile, Rabbit sifted through the books that Owl had given him, hoping to find something to shed light on this mystery.
“I—I—I can’t find anything like that in my books! Or the ones that Owl shared with me!” He stammered before turning back to the others. “This is unlike anything we’ve ever seen before—I mean, this changes everything!” He was pretty much speaking their thoughts out loud, but no one wanted to say it because they were all focused on the young boy before them. The one who fell from the stars. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on him should he wake up.” Rabbit continued, “Maybe then we’ll get some answers.”
Darby nodded, but as she left with the others, she had a feeling deep within that this was no accident. This boy, whoever he was, was important, possibly even dangerous. Yet, when she looked at his face, he seemed peaceful. She didn’t know how, but she felt drawn to him. It was as if something told her that he wasn’t here to hurt them. She wanted to say that this mystery was history, but at the same time, she felt as if it wasn’t yet. Something far greater, otherworldly even, had brought him to the Hundred-Acre Woods, and she couldn’t shake the feeling.
‘Who are you? ’ She wondered.
Chapter Text
Space burned as the distant explosions of battle and the hum of starfighters cut through the void. Skye held on to the controls as best he could as he tried to return to the triumphant, racing through the storms of destruction and outmaneuvering the enemy fighters that came his way. He dodged, fired, and looped around the field, yet the "Triumphant" seemed to get further away. He pushed his starfighter forward, bringing the max power to it, with R2 catching onto what Skye wanted to do. He was so close, SO CLOSE!
But this battle would not have it that way.
" SKYE, LOOK OUT!" Plo's voice screamed. At the same time, R2 shrieked a warning. Skye whirled around and saw a Vulture droid flying right at him from behind, firing its blasters. With quick thinking, Skye swerved around to dodge the Vulture, doing his best to fly back to the Triumphant, flying through debris, broken scraps, and destroyed ships. He hoped it would be enough to lose the Vulture, maybe even have it destroyed in the process. But it kept coming, yet he was almost in range of the "Triumphant."
Then a sudden jolt, followed by a deafening roar. "SKYE!" Master Plo's voice cut through the comms before the explosion took hold.
Skye burst awake as he finally came to. His heart was pounding from the nightmare. He struggled to pull himself up from the lingering effects of the dream. He glanced around, trying to gauge his surroundings, to see if he could recognize anything. Yet he couldn't. It seemed odd. Weird even. The whole thing was blurry. He couldn't make out anything. The only thing he could make out was the brown coloration through the blur. His smell was also filled to the brim with the scent of burning woods and herbal remedies. Skye rapidly blinked to clear the initial blurriness. But as he did, his senses finally caught up to him.
He wasn't in his starfighter, nor was he in the space battle.
'Huh?'
As he turned his gaze to other places, his senses gauged the full extent of his surroundings. The soft crackle of a fire filled the quiet room. Faintly flickering embers danced in the stove, casting a warm glow along the wooden walls. The space was small but tidy—a round carpet in the center, a wooden chair neatly placed by the fireplace. A shelf lined with jars and books sat against the wall. His gaze lingered on a framed photo sitting above the stove, depicting three Lepi standing and smiling together in the portrait. A blue one to the left, a Yellow one in the middle, and a light green one to the right. Skye frowned. A family of Lepi? He had only encountered a few Lepi in his travels with Master Plo, even before the Clone Wars began. But none had ever lived in a place like... this.
'Wait...'
This was a home. Someone's home.
His brow furrowed more as the realization finally crept in.
Where was he?
Skye tried to force himself to sit straight, but as he did, a sharp pain immediately ran through his body. Wincing, he brought his hand to where the pain originated, but as he did, he felt the soft, wool-like feel on it. He looked down and blinked as he saw bandages perfectly wrapped around each other.
'What?!'
He shouldn't have survived that crash. Any normal person wouldn't have made it. And yet somehow, the force had guided him to safety. But as he took in his current state, he realized it wasn't just the force. Someone had wrapped his wounds with careful precision, binding his injuries with more skill than he expected from a place like this. He traced his fingers along the fabric, feeling the tenderness beneath the dampness and sweat.
'Wow. Whoever did these bandages really knew what they were doing.'
He had clung onto the force in his supposed final moments, and in that time frame, he willed himself to survive, along with whoever patched him up nicely, considering the whole area that he was in.
And yet... as he looked around again, he had to wonder.
Where was here?
Some lone colony? Some unidentified outpost?
Skye slowly fell into the force as he tried to control his breathing. It has always been his guide through the toughest of times, no matter where he was. The bustling streets of Coruscant, the Jedi temple, or the battlefield, the Force has always been there for him. It was, as Master Yoda always said, the current that surrounds and binds everything together. "Lumious beings are we, not this crude matter."
But here?
Wherever here was, it felt... different.
Skye sank into the force. It was stronger—far stronger here than he ever could've imagined. Except not in the way he was used to. It wasn't shaped by War, not twisted by desperate power struggles, or the pull of Light and Darkness. It was deep, stretching out like the roots of an ancient tree that only myths could describe. Unbroken and untamed. There was a purity, a natural harmony. He reached further, his senses expanding like ripples in a pond. It was peaceful, untouched by the cold, mechanical grasp of industry or the ever-present weight of conflict. Unlike the urban cities of the Core Worlds, where the force was buzzing with the relentless energies of countless individuals, or the outer rim territories, where survival was a long shot and often twisted into something unnatural, desperate, and raw.
Here, the force simply was. It had been allowed to exist in its purest form, flowing freely without interference. It wasn't silent, like the unnatural silence found only in the darkest places, where life has been extinguished. Instead, it thrived with a quiet, steady life, humming like a gentle song unburdened by war.
For the first time, Skye realized that he wasn't feeling the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders. And beneath all of that peace, one question still lingered.
How did he end up here?
He looked back down at his patched-up wound and shakily brought his hand back to the center of its origin. Pain flared once more upon his touch—a sharp reminder of how close he had come to death. His fingers hesitated a moment, hovering just above the bandages that wrapped tightly around his abdomen. The fabric was slightly damp, with traces of blood that hadn't faded yet. The wound beneath still throbbed in agony, the pain pulsing with his heartbeat.
But pain was just another part of the force—another ripple in its endless stream.
Skye let himself sink deeper. A flicker of light. A whisper of power. He guided it towards the wound, directing its flow with careful precision. Slowly, the pain began to loosen up. No longer sharp and agonizing, but duller—a shadow of what it had been. Skye's breath steadied as he felt the warmth flow through his body beneath his palm, seeping into the torn flesh, mending frayed edges with slow, deliberate care. He could feel it working. He could feel the wound stitch itself back together, cell by cell, accelerating the body's natural healing process. It wasn't an instant fix, however. Jedi healers far more skilled than Skye could restore injuries like this in mere moments, but Skye wasn't that advanced. He was self-taught, relying on instinct rather than formal training.
Master Plo even gave him some pointers on this technique when Skye questioned him on it, allowing the young padawan to implement that into his self-teachings on force healing. It wasn't instant. It wasn't perfect. But it was enough. Enough to dull the pain, stop the worst damage, and keep him moving. A soft sigh escaped him, his shoulders easing for the first time since he had awakened. At least he still had this—his connection to the Force, his ability to heal.
Even in this strange new world, the Force had not abandoned him. Slowly getting off the table, he put his robes back on and slowly made his way to the front door. When he opened it, he was greeted by not just a well—organized garden but a beautiful forest. Immediately, the young padawan was struck by the sheer tranquility of the forest before him. The garden stretched out in neat rows before him, each patch meticulously arranged and well-kept. Vegetables thrived in their proper places, and small wooden signs with careful lettering marked each section along the garden. Even without knowing who lived here, Skye knew the mark of someone methodical—someone who prided themselves on pride and order. Perhaps the Lepi family he saw in the photo? He'd have to find out later, but he had his suspicions.
Beyond the garden, though, the landscape stretched into something even more striking. Towering trees formed a massive, natural canopy overhead, their thick branches swaying lazily in the soft breeze. Skye felt the whisper of leaves as the wind passed through the trees, the heartbeat of the earth beneath him, the faint, sleepy presence of small creatures burrowed in the grass. The scent of damp earth and blooming flowers filled the air, mingling with the distant trickle of a stream he hadn't yet identified.
It was peaceful.
'More than that!' He realized as he took a slow step forward. 'This place is alive with the force!'
That's why he felt so deep within when he thought he was gonna pass away during that crash. This planet was radiating with the force, untouched by the vast conflicts of the Clone Wars! For the first time since the war even began, Skye let himself breathe. His boots pressed softly against the ground as he wandered past the garden and toward the trees. Skye made sure to press forward with a gentleness at each step, for fear that the earth beneath him might shatter. His fingers brushed against a rough tree trunk, feeling its age, its strength, and its connection to everything around it. Later, he drew his hands across the soft meadows of tall grass, feeling its fragility, its softness, gentleness, and the greater connection to the rest of these woods.
This planet, wherever it was, felt untouched by war. Untouched by fear.
Skye's path was aimless, his mind lost as he absorbed every little detail of his newfound surroundings. A few butterflies flitted past him, their wings catching the sunlight, while the distant calls of birds echoed across the trees. Skye saw a wooden bridge arching over a medium-to-large-sized stream, its water running clear and smooth, reflecting the sun's golden hues. He chuckled as he ran his hand through his blonde hair, his padawan braid flowing flawlessly through the soft breeze. This place made no sense. Then again, when have things ever made sense with the force? His last known memories were of fire and chaos, of starfighters dogfighting through space, explosions so powerful they shook the void, and the pain that threatened to swallow him whole and consume him.
(Music: “ Coffee or Something ”, by Michael Giacchino)
Now?
Now he stood in a world so peaceful and so absurdly untouched, it felt like a freaking dream.
He should've died in that crash, burned with the wreckage of his ship. Yet here he was, walking beneath boughs of trees that swayed without a care, the warmth of the force wrapping him in an embrace.
Was this some crazy twist of fate? Or did the force simply carry him to a place he did not belong?
Before his thoughts could dwell further, a sudden burst of distant laughter caught his ears. Skye stiffened, instinctively crawling into a bush as silently as he could as his eyes flicked toward the sound. A little ways ahead in a small clearing, two figures darted through the grass, laughing as they chased each other. One was small, energetic, and bouncing around with carefree excitement—some kind of marsupial, perhaps? The other—was that a small elephant? No, not quite. His features were rounded, almost cartoonish in a way Skye couldn't quite place. Both animals were giggling without even a care in the world, bounding after each other. Skye watched with fascination as the two played in the clearing, rolling in the grass, their laughter filling the air. There was no fear in them. No hesitation. Just pure, simple joy.
Something in Skye twisted within him.
It had been so long since he had seen something or someone so... innocent. For the moment, Skye stayed hidden, observing, unsure of how to proceed. His presence here—his very existence—felt like something out of place amongst these carefree animals, something that didn't belong in a place like this. However, despite the familiarity and strangeness of it all, a small part of him felt something entirely unexpected.
Relief. For the first time in a very long time, Skye was somewhere that didn't feel like war.
However, as he moved closer, a sound scraped the fun and playful atmosphere.
SNAP!
Skye cringed as he looked down. Then his eyes widened. He hadn't meant to step on a branch! What's worse was that when he looked up, the animals were looking in his direction at the bush he was in. 'Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap!' Skye mentally banged himself in the head several times for being too careless, and now he was going to be discovered.
Or worse...
Hunted.
As the two animals kept searching the woods in his direction, Skye quietly moved away from the bush to get out of there as slowly as he could before getting a chance at breaking into a full-on force-augmented sprint. But before he could make a move or anything, the force screamed out a warning to him.
(Music: “ Astrid Finds Toothless ”, by John Powell)
“Hold it right there, stranger-amigo! ”
Just as he snapped his head in the direction of the sound, Skye was tackled by a black and orange blur and rolled out of the bush as he looked up to see a tall, striped creature with an impossibly long tail right on top of him, having pinned him down. Said tail was flicking a lot, and Skye knew from what animals did that it meant to be a little defensive. And the creature was eyeing him suspiciously. Skye couldn’t just use the force to blast him off; that would seem like an attack. He’d definitely scare them off if he used that kind of power. The creature blinked before his face switched to a hint of recognition.
“Well, it’s good that you’re finally awake, but who are ya? You sneakin' around my pals here for a reason, or am I gonna have to get all bouncy on ya?"
Skye hesitated, caught off guard by the oddly playful yet serious tone. He was also surprised by the first sentence that this creature said. Was this anthropomorphic animal the one who patched him up? Because it sure seemed like that. And yet here the creature was, pinning Skye down like he was a threat. Well, in an ironic way, he was new to this place, so it would make sense. He tried to control his breathing as he spoke, "I’m—I’m not here to hurt anyone."
The animal raised an eyebrow as if not agreeing with the answer Skye gave. "Well, that’s exactly what someone up to no good would say."
Skye exhaled through his nose. Ooookayyy, this was getting off to a rough start. “Please—I—I— I don’t wanna hurt anyone.” He practically whispered.
The animal kept narrowing his eyes, and it seemed to be the focus between the two of them as the other animals from before seemed to try and snap the striped one on top of Skye out of his defensive posture, yet it seemed neither of them could hear it. Skye braced himself, but before he could say anything, a new voice called out.
“Tigger? Lumpy? Roo? What is going— ”
(Music: “ Funeral for Chowder ”, by Tom Holkenborg)
That was enough to snap Tigger—the animal's name, apparently—out of it before anything could happen. Tigger and Skye turned to a new group of figures coming into the scene, and they all stopped at the scene before him. As his eyes darted around, he spotted a small golden bear with a red shirt, a white little dog with two brown spots on him, one on his left ear, and one on his back, and an incredibly familiar yellow Lepi that made Skye flash back to the photo he saw in the house. Okay, that was definitely the Leip's house he woke up in earlier. With him actually seeing the Lepi, it'd make sense. Things would've been really awkward as his gaze darted around at the animals had his eyes not landed on the figure right in front of the new group, as his breath caught in his throat.
The lead figure in front was a young girl with bell-shaped auburn hair and captivating blue eyes, with freckles on her face. She wore a white shirt, purple vest, purple headband, teal pants, and white and orange sneakers. But the real catcher was that she seemed to be no more than Skye's age. Maybe 11 or something if he was doing his math right. But even at such a young age, she was the most beautiful girl Skye had ever laid eyes on! The young girl seemed to have a flash of recognition, too, as her eyes widened and she seemed to understand what was probably bound to happen.
"TIGGER!" The girl immediately bounded to the scene, with her dog on her heels. "Whoa, buddy. Take it easy, he just woke up. Let's not scare him off or anything."
Tigger glanced back down at Skye, whose eyes were wide with a slight tinge of fear. He still eyed him suspiciously, but he reluctantly backed off. Getting on his two feet, Tigger backpedaled a bit to join his friends as the girl made her way over. As nice and beautiful as she was, Skye couldn't help but flinch and back up a bit. She seemed to notice this and raised her hands.
"Hey, it's okay, it's okay." She gently knelt down, sitting criss-cross, to make herself less of a threat in his eyes as the two locked their gazes with one another. "You're a little jumpy, huh?" She said with a slight chuckle at the end. Skye warily looked at her but gave a small but subtle nod. The girl chuckled. "It's okay. I felt the same way when I first met these guys." She gestured to the other animals behind her, including Tigger, before glancing back at Skye. "But once you get to know them, and I mean really know them, they're pretty much your favorite stuffed friends."
Skye didn't know whether to find that amusing or weird. Skye shifted into a sitting position where he held his legs close to his body. The girl's smile broadened as if she found it a little funny. Skye, for some reason, felt calm when she did that; he didn't even notice a tiny smile tugging at the edge of his lips.
"Where did you come from?" The girl asked again. Skye shrank a little more, not wanting to remember the battle again.
"Okay, okay. It's alright." She said, quickly finding out that whatever happened to Skye was still a little rough for him. His eyes flicked back to the young girl, and his curiosity was piqued as a thought entered his mind.
'Who is she?'
Slowly lifting his hand, he pointed his finger directly at her. She was confused for a split second before looking down at her shirt with the purple vest.
"You like my shirt?" Skye deadpanned as she asked again, "Is purple your favorite color?
Skye shook his head again and pointed at her again with his finger. The girl looked down again before blinking, finally understanding what he was asking her.
"No, Wai—Oh—Who—Me." She said, putting her hand on her chest, "Who am I?"
Skye drew his arm back and nodded, a small smile tugging on his lips. The girl's smile broadened before she slightly facepalmed herself and chuckled. "Ok, you got me there. I guess some introductions are in order." She said, before straightening herself. "I'm Darby. Darby Robin Christensen."
Skye felt a little nudge on his leg and almost jumped. When he looked down, he saw the little dog nudging him. He slowly stretched out his hand and gently petted the dog, feeling its soft fur on his skin.
"That's my white terrier dog, Buster." The girl—Darby said, "Very playful, and very loud too." As if on cue, Buster barked several times before leaping onto Skye's lap, making him and Darby chuckle. The latter scooted a little closer to Skye, seeing that he's calmed down since the initial greetings, before turning behind her and looking at the animals, starting with Tigger. "That's Tigger. He's very bouncy and very playful, though he can be a little serious sometimes, but he's really over the top with his fun and bouncing. As he would say, it's what Tiggers do best."
"And don't ya forget it, Darbbuddy," Tigger said. Skye let out a soft chuckle before glancing at Darby and then back at Tigger. 'Darbbuddy?'
"The name's pronounced, T-I-double-guh-ER!" Tigger proclaimed proudly. "That spells Tigger! Ho-ho. And, uh, sorry about bounceratin' on ya earlier."
Darby just chuckled before pointing to the golden bear with the red shirt. "That's Winnie the Pooh, Pooh for short, as we'd like to call him here."
"It's nice to meet you, fellow off-worlder," Pooh said with a smile across his face and a soft voice that could literally bring you to sleep. "I'm hoping maybe we could have some jars of honey together one day."
This made Darby bust out laughing, and Skye chuckled a little more again, surprised at how friendly these animals were. So far, nothing bad had really happened, but there was that one thought that told him to be wary.
"Silly old bear." Darby chuckled. Skye then glanced at the other animals until he spotted a small pink form hiding behind Pooh's legs and shivering. Skye smiled a bit. He understood fear of the unknown, but he kinda felt bad for the pink animal hiding behind Pooh. His anxiety levels seemed to be through the roof.
For now, Skye decided to be a tad bit playful with the little animal hiding behind Pooh.
"Ya know I can see you hiding behind Pooh, little fella." Skye finally said after getting pounced on by Tigger.
The animal yelped a bit but slowly peeked his head out from behind Pooh. Skye chuckled again, but this also garnered the shock of Pooh, Tigger, and the other animals, including Darby, who had a slow grin grow on her face.
"So you can speak," Darby said, grinning from ear to ear.
Skye lowered his head in embarrassment, trying to make himself smaller again. "I mean, it's hard when you don't really know where you've ended up."
Darby's expression lowered for a bit, becoming thoughtful, which Skye took notice of before her smile returned; she glanced back at the other animals. Skye followed her gaze, which fell upon the little pink form hiding behind Pooh. The little animal hesitated but, with a gulp, slowly stepped out behind Pooh.
"It's awfully hard to be b-b-b-b-brave when you're such a small animal." The little animal finally squeaked out, "B-but I-I'm Piglet."
Skye let a soft smile grow on his face, but kept his sitting posture relaxed so as not to startle Piglet any further. "Nice to meet you, Piglet."
Before Piglet could muster the courage to say anything else, a much larger form suddenly bounded right next to him. Skye blinked as the round elephant-like creature from earlier stepped forward, covered in light purple fur, with a cheery look in his bright, beady eyes.
"I'm Lumpy." He announced excitedly, flapping his ears as he swayed on his feet. "You're not scary at all. I thought you might be at first, but you're not." Skye chuckled a little, appreciating the innocent enthusiasm as Lumpy bounced around a little more. "And this is my best friend, Roo."
At the mention of his name, the little Marsupial-like creature, whose name Skye now knew, hopped forward. He was way smaller than Lumpy, almost the size of Piglet, but his movements were full of energy and confidence. Roo tilted his head slightly, studying Skye with curiosity, before grinning widely. "You're weird," Roo stated matter-of-factly with a smile on his face.
Skye blinked at the bluntness before letting out a soft chuckle, looking at himself. "I guess I am," he admitted. "But in my defense, ya'll are a little weird to me, too."
Roo giggled as he bounced a little more, seemingly satisfied with that answer.
"Ahem"
Skye turned his attention forward to the source of the sound, his gaze falling on the Lepi. He stood with his arms crossed, a mixture of scrutiny and reluctant hospitality in his look. His tall demeanour contrasted sharply with pretty much everyone that Skye knew.
"And I," the Lepi said, straightening with dignity, "am Rabbit. The one who kindly allowed you to rest in my home."
Skye nodded, immediately understanding that the Lepi took great pride in his responsibilities, but that he was also very by-the-book. A trait he remembered seeing in Master Kenobi, but not to that extent. "Then I owe you my thanks."
Rabbit huffed, his nose twitching. "Well... as long as you don't go running around, causing any trouble. We don't know where you came from or why you crashed here." His eyes flicked to Skye's unusual robes. "But I would rather not have any disturbances here in the Hundred-Acre Woods."
'So that's the name of these woods.' Skye thought, letting the name settle in his mind. 'Strange, yet oddly fitting for a place like this, but I would very much like to know the name of the planet I'm on.' Quickly blinking, Skye brought his hands up in a peaceful gesture. "No trouble from me. I swear."
Rabbit studied him for a moment before nodding, seemingly satisfied with the response.
With introductions made, Darby finally turned back to Skye, her face shifting into one of curiosity once more. "Now it's your turn. What's your name?" Darby softly asked, trying to sound as friendly as possible and not scare Skye away.
Skye opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated at the last minute. These animals—along with Darby—have taken him in, patched him up, and tended to his injuries. It was only fair that they received an answer in return.
The truth was... he wasn't sure how much he could say.
He had no idea how these creatures would react to the truth—that he had come from the stars, from a galaxy filled with war and conflict between clones and droids. That he was a Jedi, a warrior trained in the ways of the Force. That he had nearly died out there in the vastness of space, only to wake up here, in a place that felt so impossibly detached from the rest of the universe.
Skye slowly exhaled. "I'm Skye. I'm..." he paused; blinked a little, trying to figure out how to best word it. "From far away."
After a while, Skye found himself back in Rabbit's house with Darby, and the others circled the fireplace in a semicircle. The soft crackle of the fire filled the house, its flickering pattern casting neatly placed patterns across the arranged furniture. The scent of dried leaves and fresh herbs lingered in the air, blending with the faint smoky aroma of the fireplace. Skye sat on the floor on a cushion. Said cushion was a tad bit worn but still comfortable. Despite his force healing session earlier, he was still sore in some places following the crash. He was keenly aware of the heat radiating from the fire in front of him, a stark contrast to the coolness on his bandaged wounds. The sensation of being cared for by these animals was almost foreign to him.
All he has known since the war started is being a soldier. There have been times when he was treated before on the fields of battle or in the training rooms when he got injured, but that was out of necessity. Here, this wasn't an act of duty. It was simple kindness, freely given. Darby, who's been the most proactive in helping him heal, stepped forward, holding a small cup between her hands. The steam from the tea curled into the air, carrying a faintly sweet and herbal scent. She offered it to him with a gentle smile.
"Here," she said, her voice warm and soothing. "It's just some of Rabbit's special tea. It should help."
Skye hesitated for only a moment before accepting it, his fingers brushing against the ceramic as he wrapped his hands around it. "Thank you," He whispered, his pale face betraying the exhaustion he still felt. The warmth of the teacup seeped into his skin, grounding him in the moment. He took a small sip, the taste surprisingly pleasant. A mix of mint, honey, and something floral. He exhaled slowly.
"It's good," he admitted, glancing at Darby, who was seated on his left.
She grinned a little. "Rabbit swears by it. Says it helps with just about anything."
Rabbit, who was straightening up some books and trinkets on a nearby shelf, huffed. "Well, it does."
Skye's lips twitched in faint amusement.
As he drank, he carefully studied the ones who had taken him in. Pooh sat across from him on a small wooden stool, absentmindedly swinging his legs, holding a honey pot in his hands; he observed Skye with a curious, yet calm expression, as he continuously munched his honey down. The bear seemed really unbothered by the situation before him, as if he had just accepted things as they came without questioning too much. Piglet, on the other hand, was sitting as far from Skye as possible while remaining in the room, his tiny body half-hidden behind the armrest of a chair. He fidgeted with his little hands, glancing up at Skye now and then before averting his eyes. Tigger, having no concept of restraint, was lightly bouncing on his tail around the house, his eyes fixed on Skye as if expecting him to do something.
Lumpy and Roo were whispering amongst themselves, exchanging thoughts in hushed excitement. Skye found himself drawn to the group's dynamic. They were so open, so full of warmth, jarringly different from the people he knew. The Clones weren't by any means anything like that; they had different personalities on each of them. They were some of the best men he knew. Here though? There was no tension. No lingering weight of war and responsibility. But even in the peace, his Jedi instincts remained sharp. He could still feel the life pulsing through the Hundred-Acre Woods, the deep, untamed presence of the force, untouched by the darkness that had so clouded the galaxy. For the first time in a long time, he felt something stir within him that wasn't a sense of fear, nor a sense of duty. But rather something softer.
He took another sip of his tea.
While Skye slowly recovered, Rabbit studied him with quiet concern. The stranger was unusual—his clothes, his mannerisms, even the way he carried himself. He was no ordinary traveler. Rabbit had spent enough time in the Hundred-Acre Woods to know when to recognize when something, or in this case, someone, didn't quite belong. He knew that he should be grateful that Skye hadn't turned out to be an immediate threat, but what if he brought danger with him? What if whatever had sent him crashing down into their world came looking for him? Rabbit's ears twitched as he debated on how to handle the situation before him, each concern stacking on top of the other. Skye had fallen from the stars in something that clearly wasn't natural to their world.
He had seen the crash when Roo and Buster got him and Owl to help the Sleuths carry the boy to safety. That smoldering wreckage was nestled in a part of the forest that had never seen destruction on a scale like that before. The thought made his fur bristle. He didn't like things that he didn't understand, and he especially didn't like things that might pose a danger to the woods. Finally, he couldn't hold it any longer and turned to face the boy.
"So," Rabbit finally spoke, his voice steady but firm, "You fell from the stars, right?" The room seemed to still for a moment. Skye, who had just relaxed not too long ago, tensed ever so slightly. His fingers around the teacup Darby gave him tightened a little. His expression didn't give much away, but Rabbit caught a flicker of hesitation in the boy's eyes. After a pause, though, Skye nodded. Rabbit folded his arms, his gaze sharp. "We saw the crash site. That thing you arrived in? It wasn't made here. It wasn't made anywhere near here."
At that mention, Skye's grip on the cup slackened just a bit.
Darby, who's been quietly observing the conversation unfold, shot Rabbit a warning look. She knew him well enough to recognize the sharp edge in his tone, the way his whiskers twitched when he got too caught up in his own concerns. 'Ease up,' her expression said. 'He's been through enough.'
Rabbit wasn't deterred, though.
"You wear strange robes," he continued, gesturing towards the boy's attire, his voice measured. "And that symbol—" he looked down and slightly pointed at Skye's chest, where the faint, almost ethereal, glow of the strange emblem was still visible against the fabric. "That's not something we've seen before."
The fire crackled softly, the only sound breaking the silence that followed.
Skye glanced down at the emblem, his fingers brushing over it instinctively. The mark of the Jedi Order—the last remaining piece of a life that, as of now, started to feel very distant, despite the galaxy being in the very early stages of the Clone Wars. He could feel all of their eyes on him, waiting for an answer. He had told half-truths before, and he knew he had to tread carefully now. He couldn't reveal the entire truth to them. Not yet.
"It's... part of where I come from," he said carefully, choosing his words as precisely as he could.
Rabbit's eyes narrowed, his ears flicking back in mild dissatisfaction. He clearly wanted more, but he was also one not to push too far, at least not yet. The room was filled with a thick tension, an invisible weight pressing down on Skye. One he was too familiar with.
All of a sudden, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder, and his gaze snapped to see Darby, who spoke, her voice gentle but firm enough to cut through the lingering unease. "Well, wherever you're from, you're here now." She gave a small smile, one that wasn't forced or suspicious but simply understanding. "And it looks like you're stuck with us for a while." There was something reassuring about her words, something that made Skye's shoulders relax ever so slightly. He returned her smile with a small smile of his own. However, the situation before him was undeniable—while he knew the name of the woods, he didn't know the name of the planet he ended up on, nor did he know how to get back, how to contact Master Plo, or anyone. And yet, for all of the strangeness of these woods, he wasn't being hunted. He wasn't running.
Heck, for the first time in what seemed like forever since the Clone Wars began, he wasn't fighting.
Skye could let out a slow, steady breath.
For now, he could rest.
For now, he was safe.
Notes:
Had to put this one out on AO3 a little earlier as I had to go to work an hour from now. XD
Chapter 5: Chapter 4: Jerkily Jeopardous Jagulars
Chapter Text
Night slowly crawled over the Hundred-Acre Woods, spreading its quiet hush across the land. The golden hues of the sun melted into deep blues and purples, and a cool breeze stirred the treetops, sending gentle ripples through the leaves. Each branch swayed in rhythm, creating an eerie yet oddly comforting symphony—a lullaby of the forest, whispering secrets amongst the trees and the wind. The stars began to emerge, tiny pricks of silver against the darkened sky, like lanterns flickering in some unseen hand. Mani, the Moon, full and luminous, hung low, a watchful guardian over the world below. Its pale glow filtered through the dense canopy, casting silver streaks across the land. Shadows stretched long beneath the ancient trees, distorting their shapes, turning the familiar landscape into something mysterious.
The usual daytime chatter of the woods has long since quieted. The laughter of friends, the humming of bees, the rustling of playful creatures—all had faded, replaced by the gentle song of the night. Crickets chirped their endless melody, a slow, steady rhythm that filled the air. An owl, unlike the actual resident of the woods, nestled in the hollow of an old oak, hooted softly, its call echoing between the hills before fading into the darkness. Even the wind carried a different weight—cooler, softer, yet somehow heavier. As if whispering something unseen. It rolled across the fields, bending the tall grass in waves, slipping through the cracks in Rabbit’s fence, and rattling the chimes outside Kanga’s home. All was quiet. But not everything slumbered in these woods. As the woods reached the height of their symphony, they suddenly went silent.
There was a deep breathing that almost sounded like a breeze. But that’s the thing. There was no breeze. The shadows seemed to darken around the woods ever more. And the trees weren’t moving.
.
.
.
Or were they?
.
.
.
Patterns in the darkened bushes moved ever so slightly before stabilizing again. Something moved within those bushes. Something large. A shadow slinked between the trees with unnatural grace and silence, its form barely distinguishable from the darkness surrounding it. It wasn’t a part of the night—it was the night. The creature prowled the underbrush, its movements fluid, effortless, as if the wind itself carried it forward. The only sign of its presence was the faint shimmer of its hide under the moonlight, barely noticeable unless one knew exactly where to look. It didn’t walk as much as it glided, its powerful frame shifting seamlessly from branch to branch, from rock to rock, without even making a sound.
Then, it sniffed the air.
A deep, slow inhale as if it were searching… for something.
First, it passed by Rabbit’s house, where the crisp scent of vegetables filled the cool air. The neatly arranged garden, lined with rows of carefully tended carrots and cabbages, as well as other veggies, stood undisturbed beneath the pale glow of the moon. The creature hesitated at the edge of the garden, its sharp eyes scanning the garden. Its snout trailed the area. The scent it sought was faint here, almost imperceptible beneath the earthly aroma of fresh soil and greens. It tilted its head slightly, nostrils flaring as it inhaled deeper. Nothing. A low, guttural growl rumbled in its throat, not loud enough to disturb the slumbering residents but enough to hint at its growing frustration. Its long tail flicked slightly before snapping back into place. The scent—its trail—was slipping away, evading it like a ghost in the night.
The creature’s muscles tensed, but it did not linger. There was no use searching here.
Then, it crossed by Piglet’s house; the small, hollowed-out tree where he lived stood nestled amongst the foliage, its round windows flickering faintly with the dying glow of embers from a fireplace inside. Piglet was lucky to have his bedroom up in the higher parts of the tree. Lest he hear the sounds from the creature at ground level, should his bed have been set there. The creature slowed its pace, lowering itself to the ground, its tail sweeping carefully over the dirt, shifting loose leaves and grass with slow, deliberate movements. It was studying. Calculating. The faint outline of its form barely stood against the night, only the slight movement of its form betraying its presence. It crouched lower, studying the small dwelling with piercing, calculated eyes. For a fleeting moment, it paused. Something about this place…
No .
This wasn’t what it was looking for. The scent was too faint here—not the one it sought. Without a sound, it lifted its head, sniffed the air once more, then, just as quickly as it had stopped, it vanished into the darkness. The creature pressed forward, deeper into the woods, a living shadow amongst ancient trees. The large oak that nested Owl’s treehouse loomed ahead, its gnarled branches twisting skyward like skeletal fingers reaching for the stars. A soft wind stirred the leaves, yet the creature moved unfazed by it, slipping through the underbrush as though it belonged to the night itself. It never made a sound. Not the crack of a twig, not the rustle of a leaf. Its presence was not announced by noise but by the darkness itself responding to it. Wherever it went, the night thickened, shadows blending, shifting toward its form.
The moonlight, which should’ve cast silver streaks through the canopy of the trees, seemed to bend away, reluctant to illuminate the prowling figure. The creature’s eyes glowed faintly, two slits of pale light in the abyss of the forest. It was still searching, still following the faintest traces of a scent it could no longer fully grasp. It paused beneath Owl’s treehouse, its sleek body blending into the thick roots that curled along the ground. The air was rich with the scent of parchment, dust, and feathers, the unmistakable aroma of a place filled with knowledge and age. The creature’s nostrils flared as it took in the scents, its tail flicking once against the earth in agitation. Still not here. It exhaled through its nose, a low, nearly imperceptible sound of frustration. The scent was getting weaker, dispersing like mist caught in the soft breeze.
Where had it gone?
The creature lifted its head, scanning the treetops, the undergrowth, the winding path of the Hundred-Acre Woods. It had come far, moving with the precision of a hunter, yet the quarry it sought remained just out of reach. A gust of wind stirred the canopy, sending a fresh wave of night air into the trees. The creature closed its eyes, feeling the change in the atmosphere, listening, not with ears, but with something deeper. An instinct deeper than thought. It searched and searched, and—
(Music: “ Submarine Homesick Blues ”, by Michael Giacchino)
There .
A presence.
Faint. Distant. But there.
Its eyes snapped open, and in a single, fluid motion, the creature turned, leaping into the darkness as if it hadn’t even been there in the beginning. The creature bounded through the woods, as fast, as silently as it could. This was its last lead on its quarry as it raced past the trees like a phantom, only a soft wisp accompanying its movement.
Finally, it stopped. The creature stood at the edge of a small, quiet clearing, its sleek form hidden by the shadows of the trees. The night air was crisp and undisturbed, the whisper of leaves being the only sound in the stillness. But something was different here. The scent it had pursued so relentlessly had led it here… and yet it was fading. Too faint. Too dispersed. It was like chasing a fleeting dream. One moment—tangible. The next moment, it slipped between its claws. The animal took a slow, deliberate step forward, its tail flicking once against the soft earth. Muscles tensed beneath its dark hide as it crouched low, head tilting, as if listening to the very fabric of the night itself. It searched once more, using its deep instinct, its heightened awareness.
Nothing.
A growl rumbled in its throat—a guttural, simmering sound of frustration. It wasn’t loud, barely more than a vibration in the air, but it carried weight. Disappointment. Annoyance. A silent, unspoken curse. Its nostrils flared one last time, taking in the night air, hoping, perhaps foolishly, for the faintest lingering trace. But it was no use. The trail was lost. The creature exhaled slowly and controlled. Not quite a sigh, not quite a snarl—but something in between. A quiet sound that spoke of patience thinning, of instincts unsatisfied. Then, without hesitation, it turned. Like liquid shadow, it melted back into the darkness, its movements seamless, effortless. Within seconds, it was gone. Not a whisper, not a rustle, not a single trace left behind. The clearing remained as still as it had before, as if the creature wasn’t even there in the first place.
But whatever it was searching for, whatever it had tracked all the way there… was gone.
Skye was thankful for Kanga and Roo letting him stay at their place. More thankful for Darby and Roo taking him there before the former went off on her way with Buster. He still had trouble as to what to make of all of this. An unidentified planet, one that was deeply attuned with the force, one that had not been found by the spoils of the Clone Wars. No words he could use would be able to give this place justice. His thoughts drifted to Master Plo Koon once more and how he’s been doing. Skye probably thought he was worried sick for his padawan, but Master Plo was one of the most respected Jedi within the order and a master of a few words. One of the best masters he’s ever been given when the assignments came. However, he didn’t forget the other teachings of Master Kenobi and Knight Skywalker, giving him their takes on what they learned through their lives.
He sure did miss them. Hopefully, when he was all healed up, he would be able to use the technological teachings he was given and create a communications device with spare parts to reach out to Master Plo and send a rescue team to retrieve him. But for some strange reason, he didn’t want to leave this place. Not just because of how deeply attuned with the force this planet was, and not just because of the hospitality the residents have shown him. So why didn’t he want to leave? He probably couldn’t think of a reasonable answer right now, so he decided to sleep on it. Or he already knew what it was and didn’t acknowledge it yet. Right now, the soft glow of the fireplace bathed the small home in a gentle, flickering warmth. The shadows danced along the wooden walls in slow, rhythmic movements, as if swaying in time with the quiet crackle of the flames.
Kanga’s house was cozy, lived-in, and safe. The air carried a smooth mixture of scents: warm herbs, dried flowers, and faint traces of honeyed tea. Everything about the home exuded comfort, a quiet reassurance that all was well. Skye lay upon a makeshift cot near the fire, the soft, woolen blanket draped over him, offering him some relief from the cool night air. Roo was tucked away in his room while Kanga was up in her bedroom. Skye opted to sleep on the floor since both their beds were probably too small for him to fit in anyway, despite Roo’s dejection since he had previously offered Skye to sleep on his bed with him. While the young padawan found that adorable, he didn’t want to take over the whole bed and accidentally crash it down. Skye’s breathing was warm, slow, and steady.
However, his body still ached, recovering from the injuries he had sustained. The warmth of the room wrapped around him, pulling him deeper into rest, lulling his tired mind into a much-needed slumber. He didn’t exactly know how many hours had passed as he fell asleep.
Then, something shifted in the air.
A ripple.
Faint but unmistakable.
It wasn’t the sound that suddenly woke him after hours of rest or the chill of the night creeping in from the windows. It was the force. Skye’s brows furrowed slightly, his mind stirring as the ripple pulsed again, threading through his senses like an unseen current in a vast ocean. It was distant but not weak. Like the feeling of being watched from afar, a presence lurking just out of sight. It wasn’t aggressive, but it was searching. Probing. The room, once comforting and still, now felt different. Not dangerous… but alert. As if the very walls of Kanga’s home were holding their breath, listening. Skye’s eyes fluttered open. The fire was still there, even after all these hours, casting its soft glow, but he no longer felt its warmth. Instead, his body tensed instinctively, his heart picking up speed as his awareness sharpened.
He had felt this before, many times, especially during his travels with Master Plo; this sensation of something moving just beyond the edges of his perception, skimming the edges of the Force. So why did it feel new? Slowly, carefully, he sat up, wincing slightly as his muscles protested. The blanket pooled around his waist as he turned his head towards the window. The world beyond was still cloaked in darkness, cloaked in the hush of night, the trees standing silent and watchful beneath the silver glow of the moon. But something was out there. Something alive. Skye’s fingers twitched, his instincts whispering for him to reach for his lightsaber—only to remind him, bitterly, that it was still within the hidden compartment of his wrecked starfighter. He was alone, unarmed, and still too weak for a fight. But he had to know.
With a quiet exhale, Skye swung his legs over the side of the cot, pressing his feet against the wooden floor. It was cool against his skin, grounding him, sharpening his focus. Moving carefully, he stood, steadying himself with one hand against the chair beside him before slipping toward the door. The Force pulsed again. Closer this time. Whatever was out there was watching. With quiet determination, Skye stepped out into the night, which immediately enveloped him like a cool veil, the air crisp against his skin, carrying the earthly scent of the forest floor. The Hundred-Acre Woods at Night was not the same place it was during the day. By daylight, it was warm and full of life—a place where soft laughter mingled with the birdsong, where the whispers of the wind through the trees felt like a welcoming embrace.
The sunlight would filter through the leaves, scattering golden patches along the ground, painting a world that was safe, kind, and untouched by the weight of war.
But at Night?
(Music: “ Therizinosaurus Will be Blood ”, by Michael Giacchino [End Song at 2:58])
At night, these woods were something else … entirely . It was hushed now, wrapped in a kind of sacred stillness. The towering trees, once inviting, now loomed like ancient sentinels beneath the silver glow of the moon. Their branches stretched high, casting long, jagged shadows across the ground, moving only when the wind dared to stir them. Above, the stars blinked—soft and watchful, like distant eyes peering through the veil of darkness. The world felt bigger somehow, stretching beyond what the eye could see, into the unknown. A place of mystery. Of secrets. Skye let out a slow breath, feeling the cold night air fill his lungs; sharpen his senses. Then, he closed his eyes and listened. Not with his ears, but with the force as he had done many times before. It was always there—the unseen current of life, of energy, of connection.
It wove itself into the trees, the wind, the soil beneath his feet, the small creatures sleeping in their burrows. It moved like a river beneath reality, always flowing, always shifting. But tonight, for whatever reason, something moved against the natural current. Skye focused, stretching his awareness outward, letting the force guide him, feeling for whatever presence had roused him from sleep. It was subtle—like a breath caught in the air, a ripple in a still pond.
‘ Wait. ’
There. Something moved. A flicker—just at the edge of his perception.
Without even a sound, Skye’s eyes snapped open. A cold thread of awareness shivered down his spine as the sensation sharpened. His gaze followed the pulse in the force, tracking something in the trees beyond Kanga’s home. It was the dead of night, and he was sure everyone was asleep, but after glancing around to be sure, he bolted into the darkness, using the force to augment his speed, as he almost blitzed around the woods with a force dash. However, he could only use it briefly, which was its major drawback. But that didn’t stop him from sprinting as he followed the presence in the woods. Screw it all; the pain from the crash. He didn’t care if he was still physically hurting. If it's the Separatists, these woods are screwed big time. He prayed it didn’t come to that. He just started to feel relaxed on this planet.
He didn’t want the weight of the galaxy pressing on him again, as it had so many Jedi already since it was only weeks in. Yet, strangely enough, this didn’t feel like the warring call of the Dark side. This presence felt organic but unnatural. As he ran, he came close to a vast field, filled with few trees. Upon entering the large grass field, he closed his eyes, trying to sense the presence, only for him to sense that it was really close. He shot his eyes open once more as his gaze snapped to a nearby hill, where he saw it. A shadow, swift and deliberate, disappearing over the next hill. But as it did, something at the shadow’s rear caught Skye’s attention. A long, powerful tail. Sleek, dark, smooth, black as midnight. And just as it vanished from sight, Skye caught a fleeting glimpse of something off.
A missing Tailfin.
‘ What?! ’
Skye’s heart pounded as he broke into a run, chasing after the disappearing form. His boots barely made a sound against the soft ground, his body moving on instinct, driven by the unknown presence that the force was pulling him towards.
But when he reached the top of the hill, he stopped.
It was gone.
His chest rose and fell with deep, controlled breaths as he scanned the surrounding area, searching for signs of movement. The Force trembled a bit before it calmed, but the presence faded into the night. Skye frowned. He knew what he saw. More importantly, he felt it. That was no ordinary creature, and he knew deep within that this wouldn’t be the last time he saw it. Whatever it was, whatever slunk through the woods that night, it was heavy. And it was hunting.
Dawn crept gently over the woods, brushing the Sky with soft hues of gold and pink. A light mist clung to the ground, curling around the tree trunks like a lingering dream, reluctant to fade away. The birds were beginning to stir, their morning songs weaving through the crisp air, welcoming the new day. Meanwhile, inside his cozy little “Mr. Sanders” house, nestled within the roots of a grand tree, Winnie the Pooh was dreaming in his white pajama shirt and violet nightcap, and as was often the case, his dreams were filled with honey.
In the warm, golden worlds of his mind, he found himself in an endless meadow of honey pots, stacked high like towers, their warm, amber contents glistening under a never-setting sun. The scent was thick and sweet, and when he dipped his paw in the nearest pot, the honey stretched and dripped most delightfully. He hummed contentedly as he brought the golden treat to his mouth, savoring its perfect, familiar taste. Pooh reached out for another, and he almost had it. Almost—
ROOOOOOOOOOAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!!!
A distant but powerful roar shattered the peaceful morning air, sending a deep tremor through the ground. Pooh’s eyes snapped open, and he yelped as he rolled right off his bed with a soft “oof!” and tumbled onto the wooden floor. His small, round body bounced slightly before coming to a stop—unfortunately, headfirst into a full honeypot that had been resting nearby, spilling the contents across the floor. There was a muffled pause. Then, from inside the honey pot came a small, resigned sigh.
“Oh, bother.” For a moment, he simply sat there, upside down, listening as the distant echoes of the roar faded into the morning air. The birds have gone momentarily silent, startled by the sudden sound, and even the wind seemed to hesitate, as if unsure whether or not to continue its gentle rustling. Pooh wiggled his legs slightly, trying to find the best way to get unstuck. This was not the first time, nor would it be the last time, he had found himself in such a predicament. But this morning, something felt… different. Though he didn’t know exactly why, a small, fuzzy thought stirred at the back of his mind. Something about that roar, so deep, so distant, yet so very real, made his tummy feel lighter than usual. And it wasn’t because he was hungry. Still, he sat there, contemplating both the mystery of the morning and the best way to remove the pot.
He figured he ought to do what he always did when he didn’t know what to do. Find Christopher Robin. Or, at the very least, someone who could help him get this honey pot off first.
That same morning, light trickled softly through the tiny windows of Piglet’s home, casting golden beams across the wooden floor. Everything inside was neatly arranged; his favorite chair tucked in its corner, his little teacup rested on the table, all of his dishes were washed, and his spare blankets were folded just at the foot of his bed upstairs. And there, curled up in his cozy bed, was Piglet. Fast Asleep. His tiny frame rose and fell with each peaceful breath, his ears twitching slightly as he dreamed. Snuggling beneath his covers, he wore a small blue sleep mask, which, in his careful little way, he had made sure was positioned just right so that not a single sliver of morning light could wake him too soon—
ROOOOOOOOOOAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!!!
The ground seemed to tremble ever so slightly. Piglet’s ears shot straight up as they untwirled themselves. Then his whole body followed.
“Oh, d—d—d—dear!” He squeaked, sitting bolt upright in his bed. His heart pounded like a drum, his tiny hands clutching at the blanket. That was a roar. A very loud, very big, very not-so-friendly roar. For a moment, he sat perfectly still, listening. Nothing. Had he imagined it? But, oh dear, what if he hadn’t? The thought was too much to bear. Without even thinking, Piglet leapt out of his bed, still wearing his sleep mask, and bolted downstairs, straight for the door. The problem was… he’d forgotten something. The laundry rack. More specifically, the sheet he had left hanging there to dry the day before. With a sudden fwump! , Piglet collided headfirst into the sheet. The soft fabric immediately wrapped around him, tangling his tiny limbs as he struggled in sheer panic.
“Ah! It’s g—got me!” He squealed, thrashing violently against his unseen captor. He spun, he kicked, he flailed—until at last, with one final burst of effort, he wrestled himself free, tumbling onto the floor in an ungrateful heap. Panting, Piglet scrambled to his feet, ripping off his sleep mask. Then he blinked. There, crumpled on the floor, was his laundry sheet. His not—at—all— ferocious laundry sheet. He stared at it. Then, at the open door leading into his house. Then back at the sheet. His little ears drooped. “Oh… it was just my sheet,” he muttered, feeling a mixture of relief and embarrassment. Still, his heart didn’t stop racing. That roar was real. He was sure of it. Piglet swallowed hard. Something big had made that noise. And he, for one, wanted answers.
But since Owl was out of town for the moment, Piglet knew of the next best place to get some answers. He wrapped himself in his laundry sheet and bolted for Rabbit’s house.
High above the Hundred-Acre Wood, nestled in the crook of a towering tree, Tigger’s treehouse swayed gently in the morning breeze. The wooden structure, patched together with mismatched boards and ropes, was a perfect reflection of its energetic owner—haphazard, slightly lopsided, but full of boundless charm. Inside, Tigger was fast asleep. Sprawled out in his striped hammock, his limbs dangled lazily over the edges, rising and falling with every snore. A contented smile stretched across his face as he twitched slightly, lost in some dream—no doubt of bouncing, bounding, and boisterous fun and—
ROOOOOOOOOOAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!!!
The mighty sound rippled through the air, shaking the very branches of the treehouse. Tigger’s eyes snapped open. “Wha—HUP!” Before he could even register what was happening, his entire body tensed in sheer surprise, which unfortunately caused his tail to spring. The sudden movement sent him into a wild spin inside his hammock, twisting it tighter and tighter until— SNAP! The fabric unraveled all at once and launched Tigger into the air like a slingshot. With a loud “ WHAM! ”, he ricocheted off the ceiling. He bounced off the floor. He rebounded off the bookshelf, sending its contents flying. Faster and faster he went, rebounding off every possible surface in his chaotic bedroom, turning into an orange-and-black blur of stripes and limbs. A flowerpot tipped over. A stack of books collapsed.
A Tigger-shaped hold briefly formed in his own closet door before he sprang back out again.
At last—
CRASH!
Tigger smacked straight into the far wall, landing in a tangled heap. For a moment, everything went still. Then, with a soft plop , the portrait of his family hanging on the wall above slid off its hook, directly onto his head, upside down. Except the portrait tore through Tigger’s head and was neatly placed around his neck. Tigger blinked. He sat there, completely disoriented, his entire room a mess of overturned furniture and scattered belongings. His striped tail twitched. His ears flicked. And yet… he didn’t even notice the portrait now snug on his neck at all.
“Well, hoo-hoo. Now
that’s
what I call a wake-up call!” He nervously chuckled. Then, without missing a beat, he sprang to his feet and bounded towards the door. Because if there was a roar that big in the Hundred-Acres, then this sounded like a wild adventure waiting to happen. And he knew where to head first.
At the same time, Darby and Buster made their way back into the Hundred-Acre Woods. The air was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and fresh leaves. The world just started to wake, stretching itself in golden hues as birds chirped their morning songs and the morning light filtered gently through the treetops.
Darby yawned and stretched her arms above her head. “Hoooo. I don’t know about you, Buster, but I think I could’ve used five more minutes of sleep.” Buster, trotting alongside her, let out an enthusiastic yap. She smirked, ruffling his fur as they walked. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re ready to run, jump, and chase some squirrels already, huh?” Buster barked again, wagging his tail, then suddenly dashed forward, bounding ahead with an eager bounce in his steps. Darby giggled, “Okay, okay! We’re moving, we’re moving!” The two raced deeper into the woods for a good while before they had to slow down again. As they strolled deeper into the woods, Darby found herself thinking about yesterday. Meeting Skye had been… well, unexpected. He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met before.
There was something different about him—not just his strange clothes but the way he spoke, the way he carried himself. And that symbol on his chest… She couldn’t quite explain it, but something about him told her that his story was much bigger than what he’d shared so far. To put it plainly, there was more to that boy than met the eye. And she was interested in finding out more. She wanted to know more about his story. About him.
“What do you think, Buster?” She mused, keeping her hands in her pockets as she walked. “You really think Skye’s from far, far away? Like… farther than anywhere we know?” Buster let out a quick yap, spinning in a circle as if chasing his tail. Darby laughed. “Yeah, didn’t think you’d have any answers either—”
ROOOOOOOOOOAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!!!
The sound ripped through the morning air like thunder, sending flocks of birds bursting from the trees in a frenzy.
“AAAAAH!” Darby Shrieked . Her entire body locked up, her breath caught in her throat, and her ocean eyes widened in alarm. Buster, ears pinned back and tail tucked between his legs, let out a high-pitched yelp and sprinted behind her, pressing himself against her legs. For a moment, neither of them made a move. Darby’s heart hammered in her chest. That wasn’t a bear or a Heffalump or any animal she’d ever heard before. That was something else. Slowly, she swallowed her lump and glanced down at Buster. He peered up at her, ears still flat, his little body trembling. She exhaled shakily and placed a reassuring hand on his head. “Okay… so… that wasn’t just me, right?” Buster gave a small, uncertain bark. Darby forced a nervous chuckle. “Yeah. Didn’t think so.” She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.
The Hundred-Acre Wood was home to all kinds of animals. But nothing like that. And whatever made that sound, it wasn’t far.
Darby squared her shoulders. “Come on, Buster. We need to find the others.” Buster hesitated for just a second, then, seeing the determination in her eyes, gave a small nod and ran right beside her, right on her heels. Normally, she’d be hearing the Sleuther siren about now. But even this mystery suddenly became too big for the Sleuths to handle. They needed answers, and they needed them now. And she knew where to get them.
The warmth of the early morning sun streamed inside through the curtains of Kanga and Roo’s house, casting golden rays across the wooden floor. Inside, the cozy little house was peaceful— until the distant roar echoed through the Hundred-Acre Woods, rumbling faintly like Thunder on the horizon. Nestled beneath his blanket, Roo’s ears perked up. His eyes fluttered open, still drowsy from his sleep, but his mind was already racing. That sound; what was that? Unlike the others who might have been startled awake, Roo wasn’t scared. If anything, he was curious. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as his small nose twitched from excitement. Leaping down from his bed, he hopped towards his window and opened it. Roo listened intently for the roar, should it ever echo again. Yet it seemed to come only once.
This situation seemed familiar to him. Could it be—
Before his thoughts could dwell any further, Kanga’s warm voice filled the room, letting out a soft chuckle. “Dear Roo,” She hefted him up into a hug, which Roo gladly returned. “All excited to go out already? You’re not even dressed yet.”
“Mama! Did you hear that sound?” Roo excitedly asked as he effortlessly slipped out of his red pajama shirt onto the floor.
“What sort of sound, dear?” Kanga inquired with an amused smile on her face.
Roo bounced a little on his toes, back to the window, as he slipped his blue shirt on. “I don’t know. It was sorta strange. And kinda neat. It sounded like a roar, but not at the same time.”
A distant, mysterious roar in the Hundred-Acre Woods? That was certainly unusual. Kanga blinked as she suddenly had a moment of Deja vu, and chuckled softly. “Roo, do you remember the time when we met Lumpy and his mom?”
Roo’s eyes lit up, remembering that day, filled with adventure and emotions, all-in-all, a massive emotional roller-coaster that ended up with the woods making peace with the Heffalumps, and everyone getting over their initial fear of them. He instantly knew why she asked it, and in this moment, Roo too had that moment of deja vu. “Oh yeah! And I met Lumpy, which led to all of us being friends. They weren’t even scary at all! They were really nice.”
Kanga nodded and ruffled his head gently. “That’s right. At first, we thought the heffalumps were always these cautionary nightmare tales that we were always told so we could behave. But we listened, and we learned.” She tilted her head slightly. “And now, you’ve heard something new again?”
Roo grinned, bouncing in excitement. “Yeah! Do you think maybe it’s like last time? Maybe there’s something new in the woods, and it's just trying to say hello!”
Kanga chuckled softly, always admiring Roo’s boundless curiosity. Unlike some others who feared the unknown, Roo had always been eager to embrace the unknown. To learn, to explore, and to understand. Still, she glanced towards the window, a thoughtful look on her face. A roar wasn’t quite the same as a trumpet, and Heffalumps had never shaken the trees when they called out.
“Oh, bother bother.” Suddenly, Pooh’s voice rang out, catching both their attention.
Roo eagerly looked towards the direction of the voice and waved out to the golden bear, who was still in his purple night clothes. “Good morning, Pooh.”
“What?” Pooh turned in the direction of Roo’s voice and backpedaled a bit to greet him, too. “Oh, well—uh—good morning, Roo.” Pooh sounded startled. Roo’s deja vu kicked in, and he firmly believed this adventure would play similarly to when he met Lumpy. Pooh continued, “I wish it were a good morning, that is.”
“Why?” Roo inquired. “What happened?”
“Many things,” Pooh answered, looking down at the honey pot he pulled his head out of. “In fact, many strange things.”
Piglet then ran by, covered in his laundry sheet. He seemed to be trembling from whatever made that roar as well. “Oh, d—dear.”
“I’m sorry, Roo. I must be going.” Pooh said again.
“Oh. Oh, my.” Piglet seemed to notice that he passed Pooh and looped back around, huddling behind him in his laundry sheet.
“Where was I?” Pooh questioned, before remembering where he was heading off to. “Oh, bother!”
“Oh, d—d—d—dear!” Piglet shivered, not realizing that Pooh had run off.
“Good morning, Piglet,” Roo called out.
“OH!” Piglet yelped, turning his gaze to Roo’s open window, seeing Kanga and the young Joey looking down at him from Roo’s bedroom.
“What happened?” Roo chuckled. “Where’s everyone going?”
“T—to Rabbit’s house since Owl’s out of town,” Piglet replied, just as Roo saw Tigger, who still didn’t notice his family portrait was around his neck, along with Darby and Buster, bound right past him in the same direction. “He’ll know what to do. Eh—I hope!” With that, Piglet bolted off after the others, still huddled in his laundry sheet.
Kanga was still in her deja vu trance, but she still had her thoughts about what creature made that roar. “Whatever do you suppose is going on?”
“I’m gonna go see.” Roo beamed, then bounced out of his room as Kanga chuckled.
“Have fun, dear. Come home when I call.” Her voice was gentle but firm. Roo got the message, though.
“Yes, Mama.” Roo chirped back as he bounded toward the front door downstairs. If there was really something new in the Hundred-Acre Woods, he’d better find out more about it, with Lumpy by his side. Maybe Skye knew something about it. As if reading his thoughts, Roo suddenly spotted Skye across the room, near the window, standing still. His back was partially turned, his hands resting lightly on the windowsill. But he wasn’t just standing, he was watching. His gaze was locked on something outside, distant and unfocused. His posture was tense, as if he was listening for something no one else heard. Roo instantly beamed and bounced toward him.
“Skye, did you hear it, too? The Big Roar?” He asked enthusiastically. No response. Roo frowned a little and looked out the window Skye was staring out of. There was nothing out there. What was up with him? Roo tilted his head. “Skye?”
That seemed to shake something loose. Skye blinked sharply, almost like waking from a dream. He turned slightly, looking down at Roo. For the briefest moment, something flickered in his expression. Hesitation. Then, a small, faint smile grew on his face. “I’m okay,” he said quietly. “Just thinking, that’s all.”
Roo studied him for a second, but his natural cheerfulness quickly took over. “Okay! Well, I’m gonna go find out what made that sound!” He declared before happily bouncing out the door and into the woods, following Pooh, Piglet, and the others, all of whom Skye saw running past but had barely acknowledged before. “Pooh, Piglet. Wait for me!” Roo called as he bounded enthusiastically after them.
Skye’s smile faded as he turned back toward the window, his fingers curling slightly against the window. After last night, Skye had been able to get some sleep after quickly and silently making his way back to Kanga’s house. He had heard the roar as the morning came. But he hadn’t forgotten what he’d seen last night—a tail—a dark, sleek shape, disappearing over the hill. Skye hesitated, debating whether or not to join the others on their way to Rabbit’s. He had some pieces of the puzzle but wanted to learn more. But for the first time in a long time, Skye wasn’t sure he was ready to face what he saw out there. He debated with himself again before closing his eyes and feeling the force's current. A technique that worked when the Jedi were in times of stress. After a few slow breaths, he finally decided to see what everyone else had to say.
Heck, maybe he’d talk with Darby again. He stepped out of Kanga’s home and bolted after Roo.
“Roo, wait up!”
Pooh ran as fast as he could with the honeypot clutched in his hands. Not the usual kind of hurried waddle he usually did when he was late for a meal or very late for a nap, but really running. He moved with all of the determination his stout little legs could manage. It was one of the few instances that he was able to get out of the honeypots that he would get stuck in a lot on his own. A feat so unusual, he hadn’t even had time to reflect on it. This was no time for contemplation, rhymes, or hums, only the lingering echo of that deep, mysterious roar that had woken up the entire hundred-acre woods. And it was still echoing in his head. Suddenly, he heard small yelps and the pattering of feet behind him. He turned his head and promptly tripped over his own foot, nearly face-planting in the grass just in time to see Piglet.
Pooh’s best friend was sprinting with all the urgency his tiny legs could carry him, one arm clinging to his laundry sheet and the other reaching out toward Pooh.
“P—P—Pooh!” Piglet gasped, his voice trembling and windy. “W—Wait for me!”
Without hesitation, Pooh extended his free arm and hoisted Piglet up, tucking him under one arm like a second honey pot. “Hold tight, Piglet,” Pooh said as he resumed his lumbering sprint with surprising momentum, especially with him now holding Piglet with one of his arms and the honey pot in the other. His stubby feet pounded over the dirt path as they barreled through the woods. But they weren’t alone. Tigger bounced right past them at top speed, his usual giddy energy now replaced by adrenaline and confusion. He was a blur of stripes and spring as he ricocheted off treebunks and bushes, his usual glee now tempered with uncertainty. Notably, he still didn’t notice his family portrait hanging from his neck, swaying wildly.
Darby, now wide awake, ran alongside them with Buster trotting loyalty by her side. Despite the chaos, she was still trying to keep herself composed. “This is getting weird, Buster,” she muttered. “That sound wasn’t like any creature I’ve ever heard in the woods, or anywhere.” Buster yapped, as if agreeing wholeheartedly. His eyes darted around, alert and cautious. They all raced through the winding paths that led to Rabbit’s house, the only place, as of now, since Owl was out of town for the past few days after they found Skye, that they could maybe, just maybe, get some answers.
“Pooh! Piglet! Darby! Tigger! Buster!” Roo called out, bouncing after them, doing his best to keep pace, his blue shirt flapping as he leapt from stone to root. His little body was alight with excitement, not fear like the others, but curiosity, still fresh from the deja vu he was having when he met Lumpy that day. And right behind him, quietly, moving with long strides that hardly made a sound, was Skye, who was following them to Rabbit’s house as well. He wasn’t running, he was watching. Keeping pace, yes, but his eyes scanned the woods, vigilant as ever, his senses still heightened from the night before. His expression was focused, almost grim, but he wanted to hear everyone else’s thoughts as well. As he trailed the group through a thicket of thorns, he passed by other residents who were stirring from their homes, drawn out by the roar as if by instinct.
He had also started to slowly get to know them as well from the other day:
There was Eeyore, trudging along at his usual slow pace, sighing deeply as he moved.
Turtle blinked sleepily, rubbing his shell like one would a sore back.
Porcupine peeked out from behind a tree, her quills twitching nervously.
Beaver and Gopher stood near a stream, arguing over whether the sound had come from upstream or underground.
Woodpecker had stopped pecking entirely and was just watching with unblinking eyes.
The Opossum twins dangled from a branch, eyes wide with dramatic flair.
Raccoon and Skunk whispered between themselves, clearly alarmed.
Everyone was up.
And they were all moving.
‘ Geez, everyone’s up. Wonder what’s got ‘em all up and running too? ’ Skye thought. Except he already knew the answer. He’d seen the shadowed tail slink over the hill, felt the creature’s presence through the force, its weight in the world, the power behind it, like it was a living thundercloud prowling in the dark.
“It’s a Hundred-Acre 'Catastrophide'!” Tigger yelled out in fear as they soon approached Rabbit’s house.
“Help!” Piglet cried out in fear as they all approached the house and started banging on the door to try and wake him up.
“Rabbit, open up in the name of us!” Tigger yelled out as he started banging on the door as well.
“It was awful!” Pooh muttered.
“Quick, Rabbit! Help!” Piglet cried out, leaping and banging on the door with his small paws at the same time.
“It’s an emergency!” Tigger hollered out one more time.
“Alright!” Came the voice of the Lepi, having just woken up from his sleep, still in his night robes, and his ears curled up in something Skye didn’t exactly know what. “Uh, what?” Rabbit asked, still trying to process why everyone was in front of him.
“Rabbit, you’re not gonna believe this!” Tigger exclaimed in fear.
Pooh sighed in relief. “Thank goodness you’re alright, Rabbit.”
Then the dam broke. Everyone, Piglet, Pooh, Tigger, Roo, Darby, and Buster, who was yapping a lot, and even a few more residents who had all followed behind, started speaking all at once.
“There was this roar, Rabbit, a great big awful one!”
“It came at me!”
“I thought it was Heffalumps again, but worse than Heffalumps!”
“I nearly got eaten by my laundry!”
“And I bounced clean across the room, and my tail hit the wall, and then I was upside down and right side up and backwards all at once!”
“What’s this all about?!” Rabbit asked, still trying to wipe the sleep from him. But everyone was not giving him a chance.
“Did you hear it too?! Did it come from the West or the East?”
“Maybe it came from under the ground! Or above the sky!”
“Do you think it eats honey, Rabbit? Because I was almost out—”
“And what if it’s friendly but really loud?!”
“I wanna see it!” said Roo, bouncing in place with a huge smile.
Meanwhile, Skye remained completely silent at the back of the group, his arms folded, leaning against the fence of Rabbit’s garden, his posture stiff. He was listening, watching, noticing every shift in the wind, every hint of fear in their voices. But he said nothing. He already knew .
“Alright, alright! Everyone, settle down!” Darby called out, trying to wrangle the group like a frazzled camp counselor. “Let’s just let Rabbit—just—process what’s going on!”
“I—I’m trying!” Rabbit huffed, ears twitching wildly as he waved his arms. “But you’re all screeching like squirrels in spring! One at a time! One at a—”
“Eh, something like this,” Pooh said suddenly, interrupting the moment as he promptly shoved the now-empty but open honey pot in Rabbit’s face. Rabbit recoiled, eyes crossing slightly, as he stared into the golden-smeared interior. The Lepi, his patience frayed, finally had enough. He shoved the pot and Pooh back with both hands and was about to raise his voice and give them a piece of his mind when—
“ONE AT A TIME!” A commanding voice snapped. That finally got everyone to stop, and they turned their gazes up to the air. Descending in a wide, majestic spiral from the treetops was Owl, his wings outstretched in a graceful, authoritative glide. His feathers shimmered softly in the morning light, but his golden eyes were sharp and alert. A satchel hung from his side, filled with scrolls and scraps of parchment. He had just returned from one of his trips out of town, likely gathering news, observing the weather, or chasing some old legend in the hills. As he firmly landed right next to Rabbit, the crowd quieted in awe, and even Tigger stopped bouncing.
“Whoa,” Roo whispered. He’d seen the big bird countless times, but even his presence always amazed him, no matter how many times it happened.
“Owl!” Darby said, relieved. “Perfect timing.”
Piglet exhaled slowly, his hands clutching his sheet like a safety blanket. Even Skye, standing still near the treeline, lifted his head slightly. His eyes met Owl’s for a second. The Jedi didn’t speak, but there was something in his gaze, recognition or respect perhaps. The large bird held a wisdom Skye couldn’t deny. He would talk with him later.
“Thank you, Owl.” Rabbit finally said, composing himself. “Now, what is going—”
“Oh! Oh! Me! Pick me!” Tigger started, quickly raising his hand. “Mememememememememe-
memememememe!”
Rabbit huffed and crossed his arms. “Tigger?”
“There I was,” Tigger started. “Sleeping, dreaming tiggerish dreams.” Then, his voice turned dramatic, “And suddenly , everything starts a-shaking. And there’s stuff falling everywhere!” Gasps of fear could be heard from everyone as Tigger’s dramatics amped up, but Skye was unfazed. “And then it stops! And I look around. And there it wasn’t. My most “favoritest” family portrait.” Tigger sniffed, then cried, “It was clean gone,” not realizing the portrait was still hanging around his neck.
“Did it look something like this, Tigger?” Pooh asked, smiling as he pulled the portrait from Tigger’s neck.
Tigger sniffled for a bit. “Yeah, it was—” he paused for a minute, his little brain trying to comprehend why he saw a different portrait now. “Actually, it had a little less Pooh in it.” Pooh just gave Tigger a soft smile through the ruined portrait.
“I see.” Rabbit said, before clearing his throat. “And, uh, Pooh-bear, what about you?”
Pooh then picked up his empty honey pot and started telling his rude awakening. “Well, whatever it was, it ate my honey.” A small droplet fell on Roo, who was trying to get Rabbit’s attention, much to his dismay. “Well, actually, I ate my honey,” Pooh said, before his voice darkened a little, “But it made me do it.”
Rabbit hummed, his eyes not seeming like they were interested, but even he couldn’t deny that whatever had happened this morning seemed to have shaken everyone. He probably slept through it. Roo started speaking, telling Rabbit about the roar he heard, when Rabbit interrupted, saying thanks, then moved on to Piglet. As Skye watched, he slowly began to tune out when a sudden flash of light caught his eye in the distance. Like a glint of moonlight off metal or something else. He slipped away without even a word, the only one noticing his departure being Darby. Her face contorted into confusion as she slowly followed Skye, keeping a good distance behind him, with Buster on her heels. The morning was so chaotic that it almost made her thoughts of knowing more about Skye slip her mind.
Moving with quiet precision, Skye slipped through the brush, boots silent on the dewy grass. The air was still, but the force hummed through his mind like a low drumbeat, alert and wary. The glint had come from a small clearing just beyond the clustered roots and ferns. As he approached, he knelt low, eyes scanning the ground. That’s when he saw it. A small black dot. No larger than a credit coin. Resting in the grass like it had fallen off by accident, still faintly catching the morning light. Skye picked it up carefully between his fingers. It was hard but warm. Slightly curved with a smooth, almost rough texture to it—like the surface of the volcanic glass from Sullust, yet denser. Skye turned it over in his hand, frowning. It didn’t feel like a rock. And it wasn’t from here.
He closed his eyes and reached out into the force, letting the energy from the woods and the planet itself swirl around the object in his hand. Instantly, he felt the pull, deep, dark, primal. It resonated with the same energy he had sensed the night before. Cold. Powerful. Hunting.
“What is that?” Skye nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Darby right next to him, looking at the dot, too. For a second, his mind lagged, seeing her that close to him, but he quickly blinked, looking back at the object.
“I don’t know.” He said. Ok, that was a flat-out half-truth. He didn’t know what it was, but he did know where this thing originated from. That fragment originated from the creature he saw last night. Buster sniffed the dot in Skye’s hand and gave out a little whine, backing off. Darby looked around, looking for anything else. It was here that she saw something Skye didn’t when he spotted the black dot, which they were right over them. A trail of dents crawled over the grass. They almost looked mammalian, with a mixture of reptiles in there.
“Guys, look at this!” Darby called to everyone, turning their gaze to her, Buster, and Skye. “Over here on the ground!” Everyone slowly began making their way to the trio, curious as to what they had found.
“It’s a swimming pool,” Tigger said, oblivious to what it was.
“The Sky has finally fallen,” Eeyore said in his monotone, downward voice. “Always knew it would.”
“Oh, m—m—m—my!” Piglet jittered, looking up to see if it would fall while hiding behind Pooh.
“I found this on the ground, too,” Skye said as he held up the black dot with his index finger and thumb. Owl got a closer look at it. He stared at it intently. Something about that dot felt familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint it.
“It looks like a footprint.” Roo suddenly chirped, crouching beside the dent in the ground, his small hand hovering over the edge of the shallow depression, tracing over the vague clawed arc pressed into the soil. Now, his deja vu was really kicking in.
Tigger barked out a laugh. “Oh, that’s impossibibble!”
Rabbit chuckled, too, stepping forward to dismiss the idea with a firm swipe of his paw. “A footprint indeed. Anyone can see it's only a—a—a—” The words caught in his throat. His voice trailed off as his eyes widened. The shape, the spacing, and the subtle claw marks at the top of the imprint.
Darby’s breath hitched. “Wait. That really is a—”
Owl’s feathers fluffed, his gaze darting between the black dot in Skye’s hand and the mark in the ground. A ripple of realization splashed across the group like a wave as everyone screamed in fright, from Piglet letting out a yelp to Pooh blinking at the ground in stunned silence. Even Buster whimpered and nudged closely to Darby’s leg. Everyone’s eyes darted to one another; something ancient stirred in their memory. Only Skye remained still, his brows furrowed as he looked at them all. He remembered seeing and sensing the creature, but he wanted to see what they made of this.
“Rabbit, Owl,” Pooh slowly began, his voice unusually serious, “What sort of creature could be attached to a foot that um… big? And a black dot like that?”
The others turned their gazes to the two elder residents. Rabbit and Owl shared a glance, and then their voices darkened. Whatever they were thinking, it wasn’t good.
“There’s only one thing it could be…” Rabbit started in a low, hushed tone, his ears drooping silently.
Owl followed by taking in a deep breath, then whispered the words that sent a chill down everyone’s spine: “A Black Jagular.”
A collective gasp echoed through the clearing. Piglet squealed and clung tighter to Pooh. Tigger’s tail coiled beneath him. Roo’s jaw dropped, eyes wide with excitement and fear. Buster whined as Darby held him close; even she let out an audible gasp. Even Eeyore seemed to blink with a touch more concern than usual.
But Skye just blinked. Now he was confused, glancing between them. “Excuse me… what’s a Jagular?”
Everyone froze. A hush fell upon the group, thick with tension. Then, suddenly, Rabbit and Tigger both burst out with a theatrical yell that echoed through the forest.
“ WHAT’S A JAGULAR?! ”
“ Ahem ,” Rabbit cleared his throat, stepping forward with the dignity of a storyteller about to spin a tale most foul. “ Everyone knows what a Jagular’s like ,” he began, adjusting his robe and pointing a trembling paw in the sky.
“ It’s got fiery eyes and a tail with a spike! ” Tigger chimed in dramatically, bouncing up beside him with exaggerated gestures.
Rabbit nodded gravely. “ With claws on its paws that are sharp as a tack .”
“ And wing-a-ma-things coming out of its back! ” Tigger added, flailing arms with winged imitation.
Skye’s brows furrowed. “Out of its back?”
Rabbit turned to him with wide, knowing eyes. “Well, of course, Skye, precisely.”
Tigger puffed his chest up. “Exac-tically! ' Cause its bottom is up and its top’s really down! ”
“ So its nose is its tail or the other way 'round, ” Rabbit said, twirling as though trying to draw out the anatomy.
“ Yeah, ” Tigger shouted, leaping dramatically. “ And it's wide as a river and tall as a tree! ”
“ Imagine Gigantic, ” Rabbit said ominously.
“ And times it by three! ” Tigger bellowed.
The group began to slowly encircle Skye, their voices joining in chorus now as the story turned into a chant, a warning, a song woven from old legends and frightened dreams.
“ It clomps here and there, ” Rabbit said, stomping the ground with theatrical weight.
“ And it stomps to and fro! ” Tigger echoed, bouncing in all directions.
“ It's got three horns above, ” Owl announced, appearing suddenly at the edge of the group, wings outstretched for dramatic emphasis.
“ And eleven below! ” Darby added, raising her hands to indicate an impossible number.
“ And those are its good points! ” Piglet stammered, looking over Pooh’s shoulder.
“ There's much more to know, ” Pooh muttered gravely, holding his empty honey pot like a ward against evil.
Then, in perfect symphony, the entire group threw their heads back and cried out in haunting, gleefully terrified unison:
“ About the dreadfully dreaded
Thoroughly three-headed
Jerkily Jeopadus Jagulars! ”
Then they all dove into separate bushes in fright. Skye, for all of his worth as a padawan, now had his eyes sparkling with wonder. “Wow! Neat!”
Rabbit poked his head out of a bush, just as everyone else did, his expression scandalized. “Neat? It is most certainly not neat!”
As everyone slowly came back out, Rabbit’s voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned in closer. “ Everyone knows that they lurk, and they creep… ”
“ The best time to see one is when it's hunting! ” Tigger whispered loudly, crouching like a predator.
Rabbit’s voice turned grim. “ It’ll come for you out in the dead of night… ”
“ And snatch you away without even a sound! ” Tigger finished, eyes darting around dramatically.
The group’s voices grew again, this time faster now, more feverish with fear and dread.
“ They'll steal all your honey and eat your last crust. ”
“ They'll stomp on your house till it's nothing but dust. ”
“ The worst part of all is… ”
Skye’s voice cut in, quiet but questioning. “They’re different from us?”
The others, almost solemn now, nodded in unison, their voices returning one last time, fierce and trembling:
“ They're the dreadfully dreaded
Thoroughly three-headed
Fiercely ferociously
Mostly atrociously
Jerkilly Jeopadus… ”
Their voices trembled as everyone was now scrambling amongst themselves, having now reached the end, half-terrified, half-exhausted. They all cried out fearfully at the name, except for Skye, who joined in, now brightly, excitedly, and full of wonder, not fear:
“ Jagulars! ”
Everyone crashed into each other right behind Skye, who just chuckled at this. And for a moment, everything was still. Birds scattered from the trees. Wind rustled through the leaves. The name had been said aloud, and the forest felt eerily different. Everyone slowly peeled away from each other as they came to their senses. The silence that echoed after that wasn’t like before; it was thicker. A hush pressed down on every branch and burrow, making the wind think twice before even stirring. The trees around them, so familiar and warm by day, now loomed like frozen sentinels, their twisting limbs stretched out like claws in the distance. A soft rustle of leaves made Piglet squeak and dive behind Pooh again.
Then, softly, but solemnly, Rabbit spoke. “And… they live right over there.” He said, his voice darker than before, pointing toward the treeforms beyond the familiar fields. “Deep within the farthest roots of Heffalump Hollow.” His hand trembled slightly as he gestured towards the treeline with the fences. Though no one could see it, they knew what it looked like from stories of the Heffalumps, including Lumpy and his parents; ancient tree trunks tangled together in shadows, where light seldom dared to visit.
“Oh! Oh! d—d—d—dear!” Piglet squeaked, still hiding behind Pooh.
“Past those trees,” Rabbit continued, “there’s a grove where the light doesn’t reach. Even the birds don’t sing there anymore. That’s where they say the Jagulars prowl. We sealed it off years ago after we made peace with the Heffalumps.” There was a pause, and he added with a glance toward Roo, “No offense to Lumpy, of course.”
Roo nodded, slightly uneasy but understanding.
“But,” Rabbit went on, his tone sharp, absolute now. “Jagulars—Woozles, Grints, and Gobloons—are not like Heffalumps. You don’t make peace with a Jagular. You don’t trap a Jagular. You hide and pray that they don’t decide to find you.”
Skye’s eyes sparkled with a dangerous curiosity. “But what if we did catch one?” He asked, almost whispering the thought out loud.
Rabbit snapped his head around. “Capture a Jagular?! No! No, no, and absolutely not. We already went through all of that with the Heffalumps. That was different. That was a lesson. This…” Rabbit gestured to the black dot in Skye’s palm, “...this isn’t a game. No stories, no songs, no traps. Just danger.”
Skye lowered the dot reluctantly. “But how do we know if they’re dangerous when we’ve never seen one?”
“Because,” Rabbit said grimly, “the ones who claimed they did… never lived to tell the tale twice.” That line hung in the air like a storm cloud. Even Tigger, who moments ago had been bouncing with wild gestures, was now still, staring toward the deeper woods with narrowed eyes.
Skye felt a twinge of frustration in his chest. He didn’t like leaving mysteries unsolved. He didn’t want to believe there was something too dangerous to face. If Pooh and his friends could befriend a Heffalump, why not a Jagular? But the way they all looked, not with excitement, but with fear, he knew this wasn’t like the stories he had heard growing up within the temple on Coruscant. Even Master Plo had told cautionary tales of creatures powerful with the Dark side of the Force, as well as some strong with the light side.
Still…
‘ We’d be the first to do it, ’ he thought quietly to himself. ‘ We’d be the first to catch one .’
Eventually, the tension in the air loosened. Piglet scurried off towards his house with Pooh beside him, keeping an eye on the horizon. Tigger bounced slower than usual, casting one last wary glance at the woods. Roo bounced back toward his home, closer to Lumpy’s mumbling about horns and wings and shadows. Rabbit sighed heavily and turned back toward his garden. Even Owl had taken flight again, wings slicing the air in slow, thoughtful strokes. One by one, the residents parted in different directions, returning to their homes, to their routines, to their questions. Darby glanced back at Skye, wondering what he was thinking. She wished she could talk with him some more, but for now, that would have to wait. Only Skye stayed behind, standing at the edge of the clearing, the footprints dented in the earth, and the dot in his palm.
The wind tugged at his robes as he stared toward the deeper tree forms, those towering silhouettes that beckoned like a riddle unsolved. His mind wandered back to earlier this morning, the roar, and then to last night, the way the shadows shifted unnaturally, the chill in the air. The feeling that something ancient in his chest had stirred. He closed his eyes and reached out with the force, gently, cautiously. The woods responded… quietly. Restless. And the echo was still there. Low, Rumbling, Waiting to be discovered. But right now? He was going to talk with Owl.
Chapter 6: Chapter 5: Survival and Secrets
Chapter Text
The sun was slowly beginning its small descent behind the tall oaks and birches of the Hundred-Acre Woods, casting long, gold-streaked shadows across the floor. The golden warmth of the afternoon has long since faded, replaced by a deep indigo sky speckled with tiny stars. Most of the others had returned to the comfort of their homes, their windows flickering with the candlelight. Skye, however, was not yet ready to rest. The events of the day still clung to his mind like leaves caught in a breeze—Jagulars, the black dot he found on the ground, the footprints, the fear in everyone’s eyes. He wasn’t used to fear, not from others. Quietly, he left the clearing, following the familiar, winding path; his boots crunched lightly against the fallen leaves as he walked, the path dimly lit by the waning light overhead.
He made his way to the tallest tree in the wood, Owl’s treehouse, its familiar silhouette rising proudly above the canopy. Lanterns swayed gently outside the wooden platform nestled in high boughs, casting a warm, amber glow that pierced through the descending twilight. A creaky wooden ladder wound its way along the gnarled trunk, the steps embedded within the bark. Skye exhaled, steadying himself as he climbed. With each rung, he felt further from the noise and nerves of the clearing behind; he needed to have a chat with the big bird. He reached the landing with a final pull, stepping carefully onto the platform. The wooden planks creaked beneath his boots as he approached the door, which was slightly ajar, as though Owl had been expecting him.
Inside, it was just as Skye imagined it to be: a cozy, cluttered library carved into the heart of the great tree. Books of every shape and size filled the crooked shelves, parchment scrolls poked out of drawers, and odd trinkets from Owl’s travels hung from nails or sat in teetering piles. A globe spun lazily in the corner, and a pot of tea steamed on a low table surrounded by mismatched chairs. It smelled faintly of pinewood, ink, and old feathers. Owl stood near the hearth, polishing his monocle and adjusting his neck feathers with his wing. He turned at Skye’s approach and offered a knowing smile.
“Come in, dear boy. I thought I might be expecting you.”
Skye raised an eyebrow, but this confirmed his suspicion about the door being ajar. “You did?”
Owl’s eyes twinkled as he stepped forward. “I never forget a face,” he said warmly. “Especially one I helped save, with dear Rabbit, of course, though technically, it was all thanks to young Darby and the Super Sleuths, mind you. You were in rough shape back there.”
Skye chuckled. It’s been 7 days since then, yet it seemed like a lifetime ago. There were still some minor injuries and scratches, but he’d take care of those with no problem. When he was informed that he’d been out for a week, he was pretty shocked, to say the least. He hesitated a bit before looking at the wise, old bird. “Actually, I came here… to talk. If you’ve got a minute.”
“Skye, my dear boy,” Owl said, puffing out his chest. Skye blinked for a minute, wondering how Owl had learned his name. Then it dawned upon him that Rabbit said his name back when they told him about the ‘Black Jagular.’ “I always have time for an important conversation. And judging by the weight in your eyes, this is no ordinary chat. Have a seat.”
Skye took a seat on a low, wooden bench near the small, circular table, where scrolls, ink bottles, and weathered parchment lay scattered in what could only be described as elegant chaos. Diagrams of wind currents, sketches of feather formations, and clippings of poetry about the stars were all gently jumbled together as if time and thought had blended over the years into Owl’s very workspace. Owl sat opposite him on the table; his round eyes were thoughtful, not pressing, curious, but kind. He watched Skye closely, not as a bird sizing up a threat, but as a friend prepared to understand something immense. The silence between them was not awkward; it was sacred. Skye felt it settle around him like a weighted cloak, the quiet of the treehouse above the forest, the distant rustling of the leaves, and the golden hour light that fell in from the windows and spilled across the world.
He wasn’t sure where to start, really. But slowly, with breaths, as measured as the ones he used during Jedi meditations, he began to speak. Not about the Hundred-Acre Woods. Not the creatures or the comfort he’s come to appreciate.
No.
He started… From the beginning
“There is a place… far, far away. Beyond the Sky,” he said quietly, his voice steady but soft. “A galaxy where entire planets are connected by light, where ships fly faster than sound, and peace was… something we were meant to protect.” Owl tilted his head, listening with full intent. Skye’s hand rested on his knees. “I come from ancient monastic peacekeeping beings unified by our belief and observance of the Force, specifically the light side, called Jedi. We are the guardians of peace and justice in the Galactic Republic. I was raised in the Jedi Temple in the capital of the Republic and was trained with others like me. We learned to calm our minds and to listen to the force. To become peacekeepers.” His eyes clouded slightly. “We used Lightsabers, tools made of light, to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves.”
Skye continued, “We weren’t supposed to feel anger. Or fear, despite those being natural emotions.” His voice caught for a moment. He inhaled through his nose deeply, slowly. Then continued. “But then, things changed. About five months ago, war came. It wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did. Clones, soldiers grown for battle, marched across worlds I barely understood, fighting droids or robots, however you see them.” When he said it like that, it felt like an insult to them, but he didn’t mean any offense. Owl just kept on listening. “My friends and I were sent to the front lines. And I—”
He paused. His throat tightened. For the briefest moment, his mind flickered back to strong hands adjusting the angle of his saber hilt. A calm voice that guided him through a meditation exercise. The gentle strength behind a faceless mask. The warm hum of trust, of mentorship. The way his Master, Plo Koon, always made him feel safe, even when the galaxy was not.
‘ Master… ’
He wondered what he was doing back at Coruscant and how he was feeling right now.
But Skye blinked those thoughts away. He couldn’t reveal his Master’s name aloud. Not yet. Not here. “I was sent to help evacuate a world caught in the middle of it. But on our journey there, things went wrong. My ship was hit. I… I crashed. I don’t know how long I was unconscious at the time. But when I woke up… I wasn’t in the war anymore. His gaze lifted to the window, where the treetops swayed in the sunset breeze. “I was here.” Owl’s feathers barely moved. Only his blinking eyes showed he was still listening, still absorbing as Skye continued. “At first, I thought I was imagining it all. That this place was some kind of dream. The Trees. The Quiet. The friends I have made so far. But I can still feel it, even if it's like a small nagging thorn.” Skye closed his eyes briefly.
“However, the darkness of this war didn’t stay behind when I fell. I have reason to believe that some of it came with me.” He opened his hands and stared down at his palms, the ghost of the force humming just beneath the skin. “And I’ve been trying to hide it. All of it,” He admitted at last, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because I didn’t want to bring it here. Not to them. Not to this place. I didn’t want to scare them. Or be feared.” There was a pause. A hush that seemed to stretch beyond the room's boundaries, reaching into the tree's roots.
Owl, who had been remarkably still through Skye’s confession, leaned forward ever so slightly, his feathers rustling like parchment papers turning. “You keep mentioning this… force,” he said carefully, each word chosen as if not to disturb the weight of the moment. “Is that like… magic?”
Skye took a breath, his eyes still focused on his open hands. “In a way,” he said, voice softer now, gentler. “It’s not spells or incarnations. It's… more ancient than that. Older than words. It’s an energy created by all living things, flowing through everything: the air, the trees, the water. It connects all things. It surrounds us, penetrates us, and binds the universe together.”
Owl tilted his head, his large, amber eyes reflecting the slanted beams of golden sunlight spilling through the treehouse windows. The words stirred something within him, an old wonder, a forgotten curiosity, deep and feather-lighted in his chest. The way Skye spoke, there was reverence in it, not unlike the way Owl spoke about the stars or the wind.
“And we Jedi,” Skye continued, “are trained to feel it. To move with it. Through it. Let it guide our thoughts, our actions… even our hearts.”
Owl adjusted his spectacles with a soft tap of his wingtip. “Fascinating.” He murmured, eyes narrowing with academic intrigue. “It sounds remarkably like a spiritual construct I once read about in Volume 7 of ‘ The Encyclopedia of Fantastical Beings and Elemental Forces. ’ Or was it Volume 9? No matter.” He leaned in again, a note of boyish excitement in his usually scholarly tone. “Can you show me?”
Skye’s shoulders tensed slightly. His hands folded together in his lap. “Are you sure?”
“My boy,” Owl said, puffing up just a bit, “I once spent an entire winter studying the migration patterns of the will-o’-the-wisps, armed with nothing but a lantern and an overly optimistic field guide. I once read all volumes of ‘ The Encyclopedia of Fantastical Beings and Elemental Forces, Volume 1 through 19. ’ I have braved talking weather balloons, sky-touched whirlwinds, and an incident with a haunted cuckoo clock that I do not wish to repeat. So yes.” He raised his beak with pride. “I insist.”
A small smile flickered at the edge of Skye’s lips despite the tightness in his chest. He nodded once, quietly and slowly.
And then he exhaled.
( Music : “ Star Wars Main Theme ★ CINEMATIC PIANO MIX ★ Hans Zimmer Style ”, by Samuel Kim)
Skye lifted his right hand, palm up, fingers slightly spread. The air in the room seemed to pause as if holding its breath. Dust motes froze mid-float in the golden sunbeams. A breeze rustled through the open window, and the leaves outside fell silent, almost expectant. Owl leaned forward, his feathers ruffling with anticipation. Skye closed his eyes for a brief second, centering himself. Reaching inward. Not forcing, never forcing. Just listening. Trusting. A faint shimmer began to ripple across his fingers, like heat waves rising from the sun. Subtle. Gentle. And then, across the table, the inkwell, small, unassuming, half-full with midnight black ink, began to tremble. It gave the tiniest shudders, the ink rippling inside.
And then…
It rose.
Slow. Smooth. Weightless.
It hovered above the wooden surface like a dream, just barely touching the edge of reality, spinning lazily in the air. Not a sound disturbed the moment. Just the quiet hum beneath it all, the unspoken harmony of connection, like music with no melody, only meaning. Owl’s eyes grew wide as saucers. His beak hung open, utterly speechless, which, for Owl, was saying a lot. The inkwell rotated once, a full, perfect turn. Then, with the same care it had lifted, it gently floated back down and touched the tabletop with the faintest tap. Not even enough to rattle the quills beside it. The shimmer in Skye’s hand faded. He looked up. Owl didn’t speak at first. He just stared at the inkwell like it told him the secrets of the stars. His feathers puffed slightly as he sat back in his chair.
“Oh, my feathers…” Owl breathed out. “You… you weren’t exaggerating. That’s real.”
Skye gave a small, sheepish smile. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Startle me?” Owl said, finding his voice again. “Startle me, Skye, my dear boy, I am enchanted! Bewildered, boggled, and beguiled. You just moved an object using nothing but thought and will. And that,” he pointed at the inkwell with a wide-eyed wingtip, “is absolutely the most exhilarating I have seen since Tigger tried to bounce a thundercloud!”
(Music: “ Day One (Original Demo) Slowed + Reverb ”, by Hans Zimmer & Macrotus)
He paused.
“And you’ve told no one else?” He inquired, “Not even Darby?”
Skye shook his head, almost shamefully. “No. I don’t want to scare them off. They already flinch at the idea of ‘Jagulars.’ Whatever those are .” He muttered that last part silently to himself. “Rabbit’s already suspecting that I’m not from this planet, whatever its name is. Even the others as well. But if they knew the power that I held? I don’t think they’d know what to do with me.”
Owl studied him with a rare seriousness. The usual gleam of academic fascination in his eyes had been replaced with something deeper. Wiser. “You trusted me with this, young one,” he said gently. “That means something. And while I admit I don’t fully understand the scope of what you’ve told me—this galaxy, this force, this war—I can feel the truth in it. In you.” He slowly got up and off his chair, taking a step closer, his tone quiet but piercing. “But your fear… that’s what worries me more.”
Skye looked down and away, to the edge of the table, to the inkwell he had just lifted mere moments ago. His reflection shimmered faintly on the glass surface. He felt like that image, blurry, uncertain, suspended between worlds. “I’m scared I’ll lose them,” he whispered. “All of them. Piglet, Pooh, Rabbit, Tigger… Even Darby.” Skye’s mind flashed to that warm smile on her face, as warm as the rising sun. “I’ve never had people who just… accept me. Not without expectations. Not without duty. The Jedi wanted something of me. Even the war wants something of me. But here, they just… let me be.” His voice cracked audibly now. “I don’t want to be the reason their peace shatters.” There was a long silence.
Owl stepped back and gently fluffed his wings, letting them settle as he spoke with surprising softness. There was no lecture in his tone. Only quiet wisdom, forged not through battle or ancient texts, but through age and observation. “Then you must ask yourself this, my boy,” he said carefully: “ Are you hiding who you are to protect them… or to protect yourself from what they might think of you? ”
The question sank deep. Deeper than Skye expected. He flinched, almost perceptively.
Owl continued, his voice a quiet rhythm in the stillness of the treehouse. “It’s a hard question, I know. But we don’t grow by avoiding the hard ones. You see, fear has a curious way of dressing up. Sometimes, it wears the mask of selflessness and makes us think we’re doing something noble by staying silent. By keeping others safe. But silence can also be a wall. And walls, no matter how sturdy, keep you locked in just as much as they keep others out.”
Skye didn’t reply. He stared at the floorboards, the weight of the words heavy in his chest.
Owl moved to stand beside him, talons clicking softly, his presence calm and grounding. “I’ve spent much of my life with books,” he said, with a small, sad smile. “And there are many things I’ve learned. But the most important truths have never come from the pages. They come from people, how we listen to them, how we speak to them, how we choose to show them who we really are.” He looked down at Skye, and for a moment, Owl didn’t look like a scholarly bird of letters. He looked like a guardian. A mentor. Maybe even a friend. “You are something extraordinary, Skye. But I daresay that your friends already know that. Maybe not what you are, not in full, but who you are. They know your heart. And that, my dear boy, is more important than any force in the stars.”
Skye finally met Owl’s gaze. There was something new in his eyes now—not peace, not quite. But understanding. And the first steps towards courage. His presence almost felt like Master Plo now. Skye had no doubt the two would make excellent companions.
Owl gave a small, warm nod. “You don’t have to tell them everything right away. But don’t lose yourself in the act of hiding. The truth, your truth, has a way of finding its way to the surface.”
A silence settled between the two of them once more. This time, more comfortable. And outside, the wind passed through the treetops like a whisper.
Two days later, the sun hovered low in the sky, spilling warm, amber light over the hills and treetops of the Hundred-Acre Woods. The landscape stretched in waves of golden green and soft shadow, every leaf brushed with the blush of the coming evening. A breeze stirred the grass on the tallest hill, where Skye sat alone, knees drawn up to his chest, arms loosely wrapped around them. He said nothing at first. Just stared off into the horizon, the wind brushing through his tousled hair and padawan braid.
His voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper.
“I wish you could see this, Master Plo…”
He paused, his breath catching slightly.
“I don’t know where you are, Master… if you made it out of that battle. I don’t even know if I’m supposed to be here. But if you could see this place… I think you’d understand why I stayed.” A silence followed, heavy with memory and a weight far older than his years. His thoughts drifted back to the cold, metal halls of the Jedi Temple, the hum of lightsabers training in unison, the voice of his Master, Plo Koon, calm as always, firm and kind. Then, a flicker of explosions in space, of screaming stars and blaster fire, between V-19 Torrents and Vulture Droids. Only a few months in, the last time he saw his Master’s starfighter break formation, flying back to the Triumphant . He blinked hard and looked down at his hands, the same ones that once held a lightsaber in combat, hands now resting against the grass of a peaceful hill, in a world that didn’t know war. A world that felt like a secret.
A gift.
The sound of paws skittering up the hill broke his reverie.
“Hey, Skye!” Darby’s cheerful voice rose through the soft wind. Buster barked once, happily bounding ahead of her as they crested the hill. Skye turned his head, startled at first, but then softened. There was something about her presence that shifted the air around him, like the sun finding its way through thick clouds. She was still catching her breath a little from the climb, her cheeks flushed, her usual Sleuther hat askew, probably having just finished a recent case. “I thought I’d find you up here,” she said with a smile, brushing some grass from her pants before sitting down beside him. Buster flopped beside her with a soft whump and a satisfied yawn.
Skye gave her a quiet smile. “Just… thinking.”
Darby looked out at the view with him, letting a gentle silence fall. Below them, the Hundred-Acre Woods sprawled out like a painting come to life, glistening ponds nestled between trees, a patchwork of meadows and hidden trails winding familiar homes. Tigger’s bouncing tracks still dotted the fields far off, and Rabbit’s garden caught the sun in tiny reflections off dewdrops and watering cans.
“It’s breathtaking,” Skye said softly.
Darby’s gaze flicked over the hills with a kind of reverence, like she knew this land like an old friend. “Look,” she pointed toward the glimmering reflection of the stream that curved past Owl’s treehouse and twinkled like a thread of silver. “That’s where Lumpy and Roo play when it's warm. And over there, past the grove, that’s the best place for watching fireflies.” Skye’s eyes followed her gestures, quiet admiration blooming in his chest. Darby leaned back on her hands and smiled, wide and warm. “The Hundred-Acre Woods are so beautiful when the sun is low.” And for a moment, the world stilled. A perfect silence hung between the two of them. After a moment, Darby glanced sideways at Skye, the golden light casting soft shadows over his face, thoughtful and quiet. “So…” she began, voice light and curious, “what’s your home like?”
Skye blinked, surprised by the question. He didn’t respond right away. His gaze drifted back out across the treetops of the woods as if the wind itself might carry him back to the distant place buried deep in memory. He hesitated. As he had told Owl before, most of them had already suspected that he was not from their world. Rabbit had nearly said as much when Skye was slowly getting to know everyone and during the ‘Jagular’ story, and Owl had confirmed his fears with kindness. But Darby? She was different. She wasn’t just clever, she saw people. And now, she was asking not out of suspicion but curiosity. A genuine want to understand him. So, Skye took a quiet breath and let the words come.
“It’s… different,” he said slowly. “ Very different.”
Darby tilted her head, waiting.
“When you look at the woods,” Skye began, gesturing gently to the green waves below them, “imagine the opposite. Imagine a world where trees are replaced by towers so tall that they disappear into the clouds. The ground is metal, stone, lights, always moving. Everything is always moving.” Darby’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t interrupt. “No birds are chirping. Instead, you hear engines,” he continued, a wistful note in his voice. “Whining, humming, roaring… A thousand ships and cars that fly above your head, weaving through the skyline like flocks of steel birds. People everywhere. Billions. All kinds. Different shapes, sizes, colors, languages; it never sleeps, there’s always light, always motion. Day and night blur together.” he paused, searching for the right feeling, the right memory.
“You walk on platforms high above the real ground, if there even is one. The sky is full of airlines. There are markets built on top of buildings. The air smells like spice and engine fuel. And sometimes, you don’t even see the stars at night. Too much brightness in the city for that.”
Darby stared at him, wide-eyed, like she was listening to the most fantastical bedtime story ever. “Cars that fly above your head?!” she repeated.
Skye gave out a small, quiet chuckle. “Yeah. Thousands of them. Zipping between skyscrapers. Guided by lights in the air and signals from towers. Whole cities layered on top of each other.” He didn’t say the name Coruscant . Didn’t speak of the Jedi Temple that stood like a crown in the center of it all. He left out the senators, the politics, the heavy boots of clone troopers marching to war. All she needed to know was the beauty that filled the heart of the Republic.
Darby let out a breath and shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t—I don’t believe you, Skye. That sounds like something straight out of a comic book.”
Skye turned to her, amusement dancing in his eyes.
She laughed, an honest, melodic laugh that rang out over the hilltop. “I mean, you expect me to believe that people live in the sky and drive cars through the air?”
Skye shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You asked.”
Darby grinned, her face lighting up in the golden hour glow. “Okay, okay… maybe I did ask. But still.” She leaned back again, letting her laughter trail off into a warm, contented sigh. “That’s wild.”
“It is,” Skye said softly. “It really is.”
They fell into a comfortable silence again, the wind gently threading through the tall grass around them. In the distance, the sun began to dip near the horizon, painting the world in colors neither of them could name, softening the sky into pale orange and brushed lilac. Skye watched as the soft breeze tousled Darby’s auburn hair, making it sway gently like the wild grass around them. He looked away, suddenly thoughtful again.
“Do you think they’ll ever accept me?” he asked. “All of them. Pooh, Piglet, Rabbit, Tigger…”
Darby turned to look at him. “You mean take you in?”
Skye nodded, his eyes still fixed on the woods.
Darby's smile softened. “I think… maybe. They’ve done it with me before and definitely with Christopher Robin. But there’s still a lot they don’t know about you.”
Skye winced slightly. “I know… I just…” he trailed off.
Darby bumped her shoulder lightly against his, her voice softening, yet still playful. “Hey, maybe you’re secretly from some royal family. Like… a prince in exile! Maybe you come from dukes and great houses and thrones.”
Skye chuckled at that, his first genuine laugh in days. Though Darby wasn’t that far off from what she said. Some people did come from dukes and great houses, but he wasn’t one of them. Still, it was funny for her to assume that. “Hardly. There wasn’t much royalty where I came from. Just people trying to do the right thing. Or trying to survive.”
“Well,” Darby said, her tone bright, but her eyes thoughtful, “here, in the Hundred-Acres, we don’t really have kings or houses or thrones. Here, everyone’s kind of… equal in a way. Tigger bounces, Rabbit gardens, Pooh eats honey… and when something needs doing, we all pitch in. Even the Super Sleuths: Myself, Tigger, Pooh, and Buster.” She looked at him again, more closely now. “It’s not about who you were or where you came from. It’s what you do here that matters. What you give.”
Skye nodded, her words sinking into him like gentle rain. “Well then, I’d very much like to be equal to them,” he said, his voice soft.” To all of you.” Then, after a pause, he glanced sideways at her, something gentle lingering in his gaze. “Especially you.”
Darby blinked in surprise and turned her head, caught off guard. The words seemed to hang between them like a note held softly in the wind. For a moment, she didn’t know how to answer. She opened her mouth slightly to form some kind of answer, but no words came out. A faint pink touched her cheeks as her ocean eyes met his. Her expression then shifted from surprise to something softer, quieter. A small smile curved at the edge of her lips as the golden light caught her eyes.
(Music: “ A Time of Quiet Between Storms (Slowed + Reverb) ”, by Hans Zimmer & Macrotus)
“Skye. Whoever you are, wherever you came from…” she began slowly, thoughtfully, “maybe you could be one of us.” Darby looked out amongst the woods, letting the breeze stir between them before continuing. “And maybe… I’ll show you the way. Along with everyone else.” She looked back at him with a spark of warmth that wasn’t there before. Skye felt it, genuine and without expectation. Not a duty. Not an Order. Just… Kindness. Acceptance. And something else, too. Darby leaned over then, and without warning, wrapped her arms around him in a long, quiet hug.
Skye tensed at first, not out of discomfort, but uncertainty. No one had embraced him like that in a long time. Not since… he didn’t even finish the thought. His memories of warmth and closeness were distant echoes now, dimmed by battles and shadows, the long nights beneath the stars of forgotten worlds. But here, with her arms around him, it came rushing back, like breath after drowning. He stiffened slightly, startled by the sudden closeness, but then, slowly, something within him let go. A deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding seemed to unravel in his chest. His arms rose around her, hesitant, unsure, before settling into something firmer, something whole. His cheek brushed gently against her shoulder. Her heartbeat was steady, quiet, like the wind threading through the trees.
The scent of sun-warmed grass and her hair, faintly citric, mingled in the air between them. He closed his eyes; it was a time of a quiet moment of stillness, of impossible peace, between storms.
And then it hit him.
What he had been feeling for days since he first saw her, those fluttering hesitations when she smiled, the brightness that crept into his chest when she smiled, the brightness that crept into his chest when she laughed, the subtle ache that he felt when he watched her walk away, all of it came into focus. It wasn’t just camaraderie. It wasn’t just gratitude.
It was something else.
Attraction!
The realization nearly startled him out of the moment, almost striking him like a tremor through his core. A Jedi Padawan—feeling this?! He breathed in, sharp and sudden, but didn’t pull away from her hug. Couldn’t. Because what he felt at that moment wasn’t dangerous. It wasn’t dark. It was something softer, something delicate, like light seeping through the edges of a cloud. The kind of feeling that made colors seem richer, wind feel warmer, and silence feel full.
And yet, he knew what the Jedi, especially Master Yoda, would say.
‘ Attachment leads to Fear; Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to Anger. Anger leads to Hate. Hate leads to Suffering .’
The old words echoed in his mind, the cautionary tales of those who had come before. Love and attachment were paths that could twist a Jedi’s purpose, cloud their clarity, and threaten their control. As a youngling, he remembered Master Yoda’s voice, low and measured, recounting the fall of Jedi who loved too fiercely and lost too painfully. But… that wasn’t this. This wasn’t a burning fire. It was a quiet ember. A flicker of warmth in the cold he carried for too long. He remembered now those moments with his Master, the long walks across the Jedi temple gardens when the stars were rising. As Master Plo had once said, “ Compassion is not weakness, my young padawan. It is the root of our strength. The force flows strongest when hearts remain open. ” Maybe this is what Master Plo meant. Not a distraction. Not a fall.
But something that lifted you back up when everything else tried to pull you down. Skye didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. In that hug, that simple, wordless exchange, he allowed himself to truly feel. And in doing so, for the first time in what felt like years, he didn’t feel like a soldier, or a Padawan, or a castaway from a war-torn galaxy.
He just felt… like a boy.
A boy held in the arms of a girl, someone who saw him for more than what he’d been taught to be. Here, in this strange, beautiful world so far from his own. In that moment, Skye made no vow, no decision. He didn’t know what the future would hold or what this feeling would mean. But as the breeze stirred around them and the golden sun continued to fall behind the hills, he did know one thing:
He wasn’t alone.
Not anymore.
Darby didn’t know exactly why she hugged him. Maybe it was the quiet in his eyes, the way his gaze had drifted toward the horizon like he was looking for something that couldn’t be found. Maybe it was the way he wanted to be equal to them. To her. Like it mattered more than just fitting in. Or maybe it was just instinct, a feeling in her chest that said, ‘ He needs this. He needs to know he’s safe. ’ So, she leaned over without a word and wrapped her arms around him. And in that moment, the world seemed to still. She felt him freeze, just for a second, and her heart caught, worried she’d crossed some invisible line. Skye had always carried himself with this quiet distance, polite but guarded, like someone who’s been trained not to get too close. But then he softened.
She felt it in his shoulders, the way his arms came around her, careful but deliberate. And then she exhaled too, realizing only then how much she had been holding back. There was something about him that had been gnawing at the edges of her thoughts since the moment they really met, when she found him pinned underneath Tigger, who, in his mind, seemed to think he’d been protecting Roo and Lumpy from some kind of threat. Not the mystery or the way he appeared out of nowhere, but something deeper. A softness beneath the quiet. A vulnerability he tried so hard to hide. Darby wasn’t used to that. She was used to wild days and treehouse adventures, scrapes and discoveries, silly afternoons with Pooh, Piglet, and the others. But Skye? He brought something else with him. Something heavier. Something Sad.
And yet, he never let it weigh anyone else down. She rested her cheek gently on his shoulder, her arms still around him, listening to the way his breath was changing. Slower now. Calmer. ‘ He’s scared, ’ she thought. ‘ But not of me .’ And that thought made her chest ache in a way she didn’t have words for. She didn’t know what had happened to him before he came here, only bits and pieces. He came from somewhere far, far away. A place with cities that touched the skies and ships that flew like birds. A place filled with things she couldn’t yet imagine, scenarios she couldn’t yet comprehend. He carried it in the way he moved, the way he stared too long at nothing, like he was still fighting something invisible. But here, at this moment, she saw him . Not the stranger who fell from the stars, not the mysterious boy with secrets in his eyes. Just Skye.
Just someone who needed to be seen.
She didn’t let go.
And maybe she didn’t want to.
Because at that moment, something stirred in her too.
She didn’t know what it was, but it was a beginning. A flicker. The way her heart quickened when he smiled. The way she felt grounded when he was around, even if he didn’t stay that much. The way he looked at her just now… like she mattered. She pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, which were just as blue and deep as the ocean, like hers were. But what she saw there—quiet gratitude, surprise, maybe even a bit of wonder—made her cheeks warm. She smiled, small and shy, and let the silence linger. Whatever this was, this gentle something between them, it didn’t need to be rushed. It didn’t need answers.
All that mattered was that he wasn’t alone anymore .
And maybe, just maybe, neither was she .
The days after his quiet moment with Darby drifted like mist across a morning glade. Soft, slow, unspoken. But beneath that calm, something began to stir in Skye. Something had shifted in him. It wasn’t loud or sudden, like a starfighter cannon igniting or the hum of a lightsaber. It was quieter than that. Deeper. A steady rhythm beneath his skin, like the distant thrum of a temple bell. He didn’t know if it had been Darby’s words, her warmth, or the way the light played through the trees when she smiled. But it had awakened something. A will to act. A need to build, even if no one else saw. There were truths still locked behind his lips. Truths he dared not voice, aside from the fact that folks had already started to suspect him of being from another planet.. Not yet. That his hand held a Lightsaber and known war.
He had seen death, darkness, and cruelty and had once stood on a battlefield beside Jedi and Clone Troopers, soldiers of the Republic, who had fallen before they ever saw peace. No. They weren’t ready for that. But there were things he could do. Small things. Gentle things. Ways to weave himself into the fabric of this strange, beautiful world, without tearing it. Things that made him feel less like a shadow in their world and more like someone real. Someone present. So, when the others had gone about their daily errands, when Rabbit would mutter to himself over his carrot rows, when Pooh wandered deep in thought between beehives, when Tigger would launch himself from treetop to treetop with boisterous delight, Skye would slip away. To the edge of the woods. To the wreckage of his starfighter.
What remained of his starfighter sat like a slumbering beast within the crater’s hollow, scarred and broken, yet unmoving, unyielding. The earth around it had slowly begun to reclaim it, green moss creeping over the metal, vines curling around its jagged wings. Leaves have gathered in its crevices like offerings to a fallen god. It looked like a ruin from another age, some ancient thing left behind in the waking of the forest. But to Skye, it was more than a wreck. It was a tether. A memory. A wound and a gift. He approached it quietly, boots on the soft, damp earth, not wanting to disturb the breathless hush that always surrounded the wreckage. This place had a gravity to it, like a tomb that remembered its occupant. It knew him in some unspoken way. And it waited. Skye crouched beside the bent durasteel, his fingers brushing against the metal.
It was cold. Smooth in some places and jagged in others. He ran a piece along the side of the fuselage, one sleek and painted in Republic crimson along with his favorite color, purple. And in that touch, something responded. Not life, but memory. Flashes came in unbidden waves: shimmering starfields, the violent pull of hyperspace coming apart, warning klaxons howling in his ears, the hiss of burning systems, and the pull of gravity dragging him down through clouds and canopy. The smell of ozone. The shock of impact. His body remembered it. The jolt. The pain. The silence that followed. Skye pulled his hand away slowly, exhaling. Then, he reached inward. Past bone and blood. Past fear. To that, still well within him: the center. The place where the force moved was a lot like a storm, but as a current beneath still water.
It welcomed him once more like an old friend. And with quiet reverence, he summoned it. Not in bursts, not in desperation. But with careful patience, with steady breath. Open mind. Just as Master Plo had taught him. Always gentle, always centered. The force, he had said once, was not a power to wield but a harmony to enter. So Skye listened. He felt it move through him, slow and deliberate. He let it guide his awareness, not outward, but inward. Toward the remaining aches that still lingered beneath his skin. The hidden bruises. The faint strain in his shoulder. The shallow breaths still told him his ribs were still healing. He laid one hand over his side and closed his eyes. And with the force, he spoke. Not with words, but with will. Not for glory, but not for battle either. But so he could move. So he could help.
Heal .
And slowly, gently, he began. The force moved through him like a stream finding its path through an odd, familiar stone, quiet and deep, weaving between thought and breath. Skye followed it inward, letting it lead him past the surface of pain, beneath the bruises and shallow pains, into the quiet places of memory and meaning where true healing began. There, in that stillness, the world faded. Not away, not fully. But softened, blurred like a watercolor at the edges. The breeze in the leaves, the distant birdsong, the scent of earth and metal… they all remained, but they were the background now. A lullaby for the soul. And in the center of it all: him. The boy who had left the temple with hope in his chest and his saber by his side. The padawan who had learned to listen, to follow, to trust.
The child who once asked Plo Koon, “Will I always be alone?”
He hadn’t known the answer then, and he wasn’t sure he knew now. But here, with the force knitting slowly through the sinews of his pain, warming the cold places in his chest, quieting the aching in his bones, he found something close to peace. Not perfect. Not whole, but enough. ‘ Is this what they meant? The old masters? ’ Skye thought. Not just about healing wounds, but healing what was left behind them. The scars no one else could see. His thoughts drifted. Unbidden, but welcome. He remembered sitting in the temple garden, Master Plo’s robes rustling as he passed through the shade of the old Ithorian willows. Skye had been younger then, just past his gathering, lightsaber newly constructed, and finger still clumsy with the hilt. He’d gotten frustrated trying to lift a moss-covered stone, feeling the force slip like water.
Plo had watched quietly and said only, “ The force will not rush, young one. You must slow your own heart if you wish to hear its song. ”
Skye didn’t fully understand it then. But now he did. He felt his breath rise and fall in the rhythm of the force, slow, deliberate. He did not command it; he invited it. And the force responded. It moved with him, not as a tool, but as a partner, a friend. The pain in his side dulled to a warm ache. The stiffness in his arm loosened. Even the bruising around his ribs began to ease. Not all at once, not completely. But meaningfully, truly. He didn’t expect to be whole today. Maybe not tomorrow, but it was a beginning. And for the first time since Skye fell from the stars, he felt something he hadn’t let himself feel in days. He was going to be okay. Not just survive, but live. He opened his eyes, breath caught in his throat. Light flickered down through the canopy, dancing in soft greens and gold across the scorched metal of the wreckage.
He could feel the world again. Sharp, vivid, and real. A single leaf drifted down from a branch above and gently landed in his lap. Sky stared at it, smiling faintly. “Yes,” he whispered aloud, voice hoarse but certain. “I’m still here.” The breeze began to pick up again upon his words, rustling the leaves high above him, but Skye didn’t flinch. His breathing had returned, steady and calm, his pain dulled by the gentle, persistent touch of the force. Still seated near the husk of his shattered starfighter, he slowly rose, dirt brushing from his robes. The healing had helped, but he knew that healing alone wouldn’t be enough. Not here, not now. The Jagular was still out there. A shadow in the woods, lurking beyond sight. The Hundred-Acres had a peaceful heart, yes, but something darker patrolled its edges.
And Skye would not be caught unprepared again. He turned to the wreckage of his ship. Though the durasteel frame was twisted and bent, many of the compartments remained intact. Buried, perhaps, but untouched. With practiced efficiency, he knelt beside a warped segment of the hull in his cockpit and slipped his fingers between the edge of a sealed panel. A quick tap, then a precise twist of his wrist. The latch clicked. He opened it slowly. Inside, tucked behind emergency weather supplies, was a narrow recess, its contents untouched by fire, weather, or time. His Lightsaber. Even now, it hummed with quiet energy, even dormant. Skye stared at it for a long moment. The elegant hilt gleamed faintly in the dappled light filtering through the trees. It was a piece of him, an extension of his will, his training, his bond with the force.
But not something he could show. Not here. To wield it openly would raise too many questions. Questions he could not answer without revealing too much. It was one thing to say he wasn’t from his world; it was another to prove it, blade in hand. Darby, Pooh, and Owl might try to understand. Well, the big bird already understood because Skye had told him about where he came from and how he wielded his saber. But to show it? Would they really understand the gravity of his situation? He reached in, closed his hand around the hilt… and then hesitated. No, not yet. With a deep breath, he gently set it back into its compartment, pushing the energy rations over it, then sealed the panel shut. The growing moss had not covered this part of the ship, thankfully. He would return for it when the time came. But for now, it was safer hidden.
Instead, Skye turned his attention to the rest of the debris. Much of it was useless. Scorched panels, warped support struts, shattered transparasteel. But there were other things. Useful things. Wiring, power couplings. Shards of composite metal that could be repurposed into blades, hinges, even spearpoints. Tubing that could form grips and bindings and could be mixed in with vines from the natural landscape. Under a collapsed wing segment, a compressed energy cell, its charge was low, but stable. He’d have to be careful with it, but it could be useful in a worst-case scenario. Each day, he mixed that in with his healing, devoting a little more time to that. And each day, the pain ebbed slightly more. And whenever his healing sessions left him drained, he turned his attention to the physical. Survival.
He remembered Knight Skywalker’s voice, brash and confident, but always instructive when he chose to be. “ You won’t always have your lightsaber. Don’t treat it like a crutch. Out there, survival is about ingenuity. The force is your ally, but so is your brain. And your hands. Never forget that, young ones. ” And Skye hadn’t. Anakin, still fresh off his knighting almost two months ago, had shown him how to build makeshift weapons from scraps and wilderness alike. Whenever Anakin had time between missions, he’d visit a few padawans and teach them about said survival skills, especially to the ones who showed mechanical promise. That wasn’t to say he was crazy with the padawans or that he really liked the idea of taking one under his wing. But it didn’t hurt to at least give them a few lessons on those topics in his bold, unorthodox way.
Skye absorbed every lesson from him that he could. And now, with no Temple, no missions, no masters nearby, those lessons mattered more than ever. So Skye set to work. The days passed in quiet solitude. Using makeshift tools, coupled with the surrounding nature, Skye stripped wiring with the edge of a flat, metal shard, using his tunic sleeve to protect his fingers. He bundled cords into lengths that could be fastened around branches. He shaped fractured hull plates into jagged spearheads, hammering them flat against a stone. The process was slow, painstaking even, but it gave him purpose. It reminded him of who he was. What he was. He remembered fashioning his first practice staff in the temple’s training arena. Now, he was making weapons for survival, not ceremony. One spear, then another.
Each was longer than the last, balanced with tightly bound bark and light composite shafts made from a piece of interior tubing. Nothing elegant, but it's effective. Enough to defend, if not attack. And in the back of his mind, always, the Jagular. That strange, terrifying predator from the edge of myth. He’d seen its tracks, heard it once or twice when the night was especially still. He couldn’t risk it finding them unprepared again. He wouldn’t. By dusk, Skye’s hands were scraped and dirty, his tunic streaked with dust and oil. His knees ached from crouching, and his back throbbed from lifting. But three spears leaned neatly against a rock, their heads sharp and glinting faintly in the amber light. He sat beside them, catching his breath. The wing stirred again through the canopy, cool and steady. The kind of wind that whispered of things changing.
Shifting.
Skye looked around, not just at the work he’d done but at the forest itself. The Hundred-Acres have taken him in, if not fully, then enough to shelter him. Now, he was giving something back. Quietly. An offering of protection, of preparedness, of vigilance. He couldn’t tell them everything. Not yet. But he could be ready. And for now, that was enough. Skye buried the weapons away in a hidden hollow beneath the roots of an old ash tree just beyond the crater. The location was known only to him. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them; it was that he didn’t want to scare them. Not yet. The days moved gently since then, like the rhythm of a lullaby. Morning dew clung to the grass. Bees hummed lazily between blooms. The sun filtered through the trees in soft golds and greens.
In the quiet hours, when the air was cool and the forest stirred awake, Skye often found himself watching more than acting, observing the small, beautiful rhythm of life in the Hundred-Acre Woods. Despite all he had kept hidden, his past, his power, his past buried beneath the ship, the others welcomed him as one of their own. Not because they knew who he was, but because they didn’t need to. They offered him kindness without condition, and for the first time in what felt like years, Skye allowed himself to receive it. Rabbit would grumble and scold him if he tracked mud near the garden, but then hand him a freshly picked carrot all the same. Pooh would sit beside him for long periods without speaking, content to just be near someone, as if presence alone was enough.
Even Tigger, with all of his bouncing chaos, had begun to challenge Skye to leaping contests and giggle when the boy failed spectacularly. It wasn’t a Temple, it wasn’t Coruscant. But it was peaceful, whole, a place not yet touched by war. He found himself walking earlier, helping where he could. Mending small things with tools he crafted in secret. Whether it was carrying water or clearing brush, it was a quiet way of giving back without garnering too much attention. But it was Darby he found himself noticing the most. She was the rhythm within the rhythm, always moving, always seeing. She had a way of being still even in motion, her focus unwavering, whether she was gathering herbs or chasing after Piglet whenever he got nervous and scurried into the underbrush. She never asked for help, but she never refused it either.
And when she caught Skye watching her, she smiled, gently, knowing. She looked after him when she didn’t have to. And never once did she pry. When he would return from his secret visits to his starfighter wreckage, hands scraped, brow dampened with effort, she never asked where he’d been. She’d simply hand him a cloth, or water, or, on rare occasions, a piece of honeycomb she’d saved from Pooh’s latest find. Not out of suspicion, out of care. And Skye? He’d found himself feeling something he hadn’t dared feel in a long time since the Clone Wars began. Comfort. The kind that seeps into your bones when no one’s watching. The kind that catches you off-guard when you realize your shoulders aren’t tense, your breath isn’t held, and your gaze isn’t searching for danger.
And then came the thoughts. The feelings, the memories of that sunset hill.
He hadn’t forgotten that moment, her arms around him. The way the light had caught her auburn hair, how she said he could be one of them. How she smiled when he told her he wanted to be, especially with her. Those words hadn’t just passed; they lingered. And now, when he closed his eyes beneath the trees, he sometimes saw her face. Heard her laugh, felt again the shape of her in his arms, the warmth of her cheek brushing his shoulder. He knew what it was: Attraction. The force whispered it plainly, as if it were truth long known. But it also whispered a warning he knew all too well. He had been taught to recognize such things as gifts but as dangers. The Code warned against passion, against bonds that could tether one’s heart to things beyond reason. Skye had believed it once without question.
Now? He didn’t know. Because this feeling didn’t feel like danger. It felt calm. Like stillness, like the sunrise over a quiet glade. He wasn’t foolish, however. He didn’t let it grow too loud in his mind. He guarded his heart like he’d been taught. But when she stood near, when her hand brushed his arm, when her smile curled in that way that made the world briefly lighter, he let the moment pass through like light through leaves. He would not act on it, nor would he name it. But he would let himself feel it, if only for a moment. If only in silence. And so, the days continued, slow and warm, wrapped in the rustle of branches and the hum of bees. Skye worked quietly, walked in stillness, and watched a little more closely when Darby moved through the world like a flicker of light in the water. He didn’t know what lay ahead of him.
Whether his presence here would bring danger or whether he would be called away, back to war, to the stars, to everything he lost.
But for now?
For now, he stayed and let the forest hold him just a little longer.
The moon hung low in the Hundred-Acres, veiled by a thin drift of silver clouds. The forest was hushed into its nocturnal rhythm; owls, unlike the big bird that Skye knew, hooted in the distant canopies, the gentle trickle of the river flowing steadily beneath the hush of leaves. A cool breeze stirred the branches, carrying with it the scent of moss and nightflowers. Skye sat alone on a flat rock near the water’s edge, elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely, eyes reflecting the pale shimmer of the moonlight across the stream. His boots were damp from wading earlier, the cuffs on his borrowed trousers stained with earth and pine needles. A few hours ago, when the sun was setting, he watched as Lumpy and Roo were playing Poohsticks on the bridge from afar.
It drew a small smile across his face, seeing how innocent the two were, that everyone did not have to know the horrors of the war he was fighting in. He hoped they wouldn’t see those horrors. After they left, when both their moms called them home, Skye was left on his own once more. He didn’t realize that time flew by so fast in the stillness because his thoughts wandered far, back to the stars, to a war-torn galaxy, to the blinding light of hyperspace, and the sickening lurch of his ship falling from it. He hadn’t meant to sit there for long since Lumpy and Roo left, but time slipped through his fingers like sand.
And then, soft footsteps on the grass behind him.
( Music: “ The Last Of Us - You And Me (Slowed + Reverb) ”, by Gustavo Santaolla & Macrotus)
He didn’t need to use the force to know it was her.
Darby approached without a word, her silhouette outlined against the glow of the moon filtering through the branches. She wore a light shawl over her shoulders while still keeping her white shirt and purple vest underneath, her sneakers against the mossy earth. Without asking, without hesitation, she sat right beside him. Close, but not too close. Just enough to feel her presence like a gentle current in the quiet night. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the stream and the soft rustle of leaves.
Then, softly, “Are you okay?” Her voice was quiet, warm with concern. Not prying, just… there. Skye didn’t look at her right away. His gaze stayed on the water, but the edge of his mouth twitched into almost a smile.
“I’m learning to be,” he said softly.
Darby watched him, her expression softening. There was a weariness in his eyes that hadn’t been there that first day. Or perhaps it had been, just buried beneath the shock. But now she saw it clearly, the kind of tiredness that didn’t come from lack of sleep but from carrying too much for too long.
Skye shifted a little, the moonlight catching the soft angles of his jaw. “I’ve been through a lot,” he continued. “And it’s hard to leave everything behind. Sometimes, I feel like I’m carrying pieces with me, like shards under the skin. You don’t always see them… but you feel them.”
Darby didn’t respond right away. She didn’t have to. Her silence was understanding, not empty. Her hand rested on her knee, fingers twitching as if unsure whether to reach for his hand or if that would be too much.
“I don’t talk about it,” Skye added after a pause. “Because if I do… I don’t know what might come out. And I’ve spent too long trying to stay centered. To be still.” Another silence passed between them. But this one felt full of trust, of closeness, of something tender and unspoken.
“I’m not asking you to talk,” Darby finally said, her voice softer than the wind in the leaves. “I’m just… here.”
That…that broke something in him. A breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding eased out in his chest. He finally turned to look at her. Her eyes met him with that quiet steadiness she always had. No judgment, no expectation. Just that same gentle presence that had carried him through the fog on his first days here. The same warmth he’d felt on that hill, when her arms wrapped around him, and something in him stirred awake. He still felt it now. He knew what it was. And though the code warned him against such feelings, told him to guard against attachments, in this moment, beside this girl, beneath the moon, with only the stream and the stars to witness it, Skye let himself lean into the warmth of her presence. Just for a moment. Just enough to let the weight of his past feel a little lighter. Neither of them said anything else. They didn’t need to.
And as the night stretched onward and the moon climbed higher above the trees, they remained seated, side by side, two souls in a quiet forest, sharing the silence, sharing the stillness, and sharing something else, too:
Hope .
Chapter 7: Chapter 6: Ambush / A Jedi's Power Unleashed
Summary:
Based on Tarzan (1999) & How to Train Your Dragon
Chapter Text
Two months.
Two months since the sky cracked open and fire had come down to the Hundred-Acre Wood. Two months since then, a boy, barely 12 years old, came hurtling from the stars, battered, broken, bruised, and lost into a world of quiet trees and curious animals. Two months since the sky had swallowed him whole and spat him back out in fire and fury, leaving his starfighter a smoking ruin and his body barely held together. Two months since he dragged himself from the shattered cockpit, breath catching in lungs filled with smoke and fear, heart pounding not just from the crash but from what he had left behind. He remembered crawling to that rock in that small area covered by bushes and lying there, losing consciousness, barely able to move, the air cool on his skin, thick with the scent of soil and moss.
The world had felt too still, too peaceful, as if mocking the chaos that had trailed him across the stars. And yet... the silence had held something else, too. Something gentle. Something alive. A world where the force radiated with a depth Skye had never experienced before. In the hush of these woods, far from blaster fire and shouted orders, far from the heavy force-drenched halls of the Jedi Temple, Skye's spirit, torn and threadbare, had found, slowly, a place to rest. He said nothing of the Jedi, of the galaxy in flames, of the Order slowly fading into myth across the stars. He kept silent about the Clone Wars raging light-years away. He wrapped those truths deep within him, layered them beneath half-smiles and distracted glances, beneath the stories he never told. And yet, in the spaces between what was said and unsaid, something shifted.
Life in the Hundred-Acre Woods was slow and gentle, governed not by strategy or orders, but by the rhythm of the sun rising and falling through the trees, of simple meals and simple joys. In that rhythm, the others made room for him, each in their own curious way. Pooh, with his unhurried wisdom and belly full of honey, often sat beside Skye without asking questions, content to speak of clouds and tree shapes and the deep mysteries of honey jars. He treated Skye like a quiet companion, never a stranger. Piglet, small and timid, brought flowers he thought might cheer up Skye, stammering through awkward hellos and always checking to see if Skye was warm enough, safe enough, comfortable enough.
Rabbit muttered about the inefficiency of newcomers and rearranged his schedules to account for one more month, but it didn't go unnoticed when extra veggies would appear near where Skye liked to sit or when Rabbit would come around with "accidental" extras of everything. And then, there was Tigger, a whirlwind and thunderclap, asking questions faster than anyone could answer them. He'd bounce around Skye like a satellite caught in orbit, marveling at his height, his scars, his quietness, and constantly challenging him to races or pouncing games, which Skye gently declined, though sometimes with a smile. Even Eeyore, ever the realist, had given his own brand of welcoming while the two sat under a drizzling sky one day, "Guess it's not all bad, you being here. You don't talk much. I like that."
But it was Darby who changed everything.
Darby, with her thoughtful eyes and quiet strength. She had been the first to truly see him, not just as a strange boy fallen from the stars but as someone who was holding something back. She never pushed; she waited. She offered kindness in the form of mended shirts, extra biscuits, shared walks, and long, thoughtful silences where she let Skye speak only when he was ready. She had a way of filling the silence without breaking it, of making Skye feel like he didn't have to pretend. He remembered Owl's words, spoken over steaming tea and thick books in his treehouse. "You don't have to tell them everything right away. But don't lose yourself in the act of hiding. The truth, your truth, has a way of finding its way to the surface." Skye had taken that to heart. He protected not just himself but them.
These strange, kind creatures had taken him in without question. Who never asked why he sometimes flinched at loud noises or stood too long looking at the stars. He said nothing of the Lightsaber hidden within the secret compartment of the wreck, untouched by moss and vine. He never spoke of the Clone Wars, of the Jedi, or the names that haunted his dreams. He smiled. He helped with chores. He listened. He even joined the Super Sleuths during some of their cases as an honorary Sleuth.
And slowly, he was healing.
Except the more time he spent with Darby, the harder it became. The pull to her grew even more. Since that quiet sunset on the hilltop, when golden light had brushed her hair and the wind had carried her voice like something out of a dream, something had shifted. Not just between them, but within him. It was subtle, like a breeze weaving through the leaves. But it was constant, and it was real. Their bond wasn't loud. It didn't come with declarations or dramatic gestures. It grew in the small, steady spaces where trust lives. In the way, she left him a steaming cup of tea on the log near the fire pit when he returned from the woods, his hands blistered from carving, his shoulders tight with memories he never spoke aloud.
In the way she watched the skies during late afternoons, gaze at the horizon just a moment longer, as if hoping to spot whatever storm had brought him here, or maybe fearing it would come again. In the way her smile, simple, warm, and unguarded, could untangle knots in his chest faster than meditation ever could. He was twelve. Too young for the trials, too old to pretend he didn't feel things. The Jedi Code had been his compass since he was a child, before he could even recite the names of the Masters. 'There is no emotion; there is peace.' It was etched into every lesson, every sparring lesson, every moment of stillness in the Temple gardens. He had been taught the name of every flicker of feeling: anger, fear, yearning, sadness. And then to breathe through them. Rise above them. Release them.
But this... this was different.
How could he release this? How could he quiet something that wasn't destructive but gentle? Not a flame, but a warmth. Not a storm, but a breeze. Darby wasn't a distraction, she was an anchor. She never asked more than he could give. Never pressed for what he couldn't say. She just was. And in her presence, Skye found parts of himself he didn't know were missing. The Temple had given him structure, strength, and knowledge. Master Plo had given him patience and unwavering support, like a light in deep water. But the temple had never taught him what to do with freedom, true freedom. The kind that came with choices, with uncertainty. With a heart that beat a little faster when someone sat beside you and leaned just close enough to blur the edges of the lines you were never supposed to cross.
Here, in this strange and gentle forest, Skye was discovering what it meant to live without constant discipline. Without expectation and without war.
And he didn't want to let it go.
But guilt coiled in the spaces between those quiet joys. He would sit by the stream alone, and sometimes, staring into the rippling reflection of his face, still young, still marked by faint bruises and healing cuts, he would wonder what Master Plo would say if he could see him now. Laughing, carving spears, letting someone sit beside him without the armor between them. The teachings had warned him of attachments. Master Yoda said it best once: "Attachment leads to jealousy. The shadow of greed, that is."
But what if he felt wasn't greed?
What if it wasn't fear?
What if it was connection, the kind that reminded you the galaxy could still be kind, even after it had taken so much? He didn't know what was ahead. Didn't know how long this peace would last or whether he would one day be forced to choose between his past and present. But he knew what this place had given him. A chance to rest. A place to belong. A friend who saw him as more than a Padawan, more than a soldier, more than a crash from the sky, even if she didn't know all of those things about him yet. For the first time in his short, burdened life... Skye felt like he had found somewhere he could stay. He felt at home.
.
.
.
But everything... was about to change.
The midday sun filtered through the trees in ribbon gold, casting flickers of warmth across the forest floor as birds chirped overhead and bees hummed lazily past Rabbit's vegetable patch. It was a rare moment of calm, one of those ordinary, slow-living afternoons that seemed to make time itself exhale. Skye crouched low behind a tree stump, trying and failing not to laugh as he tiptoed through the tall grass. He moved with practiced silence, each footfall calculated, knees bent, breath held, his expression a mischievous grin barely suppressed. He'd done this several times and caught Rabbit off guard successfully. The Lepi didn't know how he did it, but every time he did, Rabbit would scold him while Skye would just roll on the floor laughing his behind off. Today was one of those days again.
Rabbit, as usual, was hard at work, bent over his row of radishes, murmuring little critiques about solid acidity and spacing, completely absorbed. Or so it seemed. Skye crept closer. One more step, just one more—
"Don't even think about it." Rabbit didn't even turn around.
Skye froze mid-step, arms raised in what was clearly intended to be a dramatic 'boo.' His jaw dropped. "How—?!" he sputtered, straightening with a laugh as he flipped around so he was in front of Rabbit. "How'd you know it was me?"
Rabbit stood up with a satisfied sniff and dusted his hands. "Are you joking? I'm relentless," he said with all the dramatic flair of a stage actor announcing the end of Act 1. "I know all. See all. Hear all. I'm a Rabbit of profound intuition."
Skye crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. You've just been counting."
Rabbit paused, clearly debating whether to deny it, then huffed. "Maybe. But I've honed my ears, thank you very much. I can hear your footfalls three meters out. You walk like a kangaroo rat in mud."
Skye narrowed his eyes, trying and failing not to grin. "Right. And what was I doing here then, O wise Rabbit?"
Rabbit faced him with an arched brow. "Clearly plotting mischief, as you always do."
Skye raised a brow, and he smirked, arms still crossed as he looked at Rabbit. "Well, excuse me. And here I thought you knew everything."
Rabbit was about to reply with something particularly smug when—THWOMP!— Skye was slammed from the side in a blur of orange and black stripes.
"Tigger!" Skye laughed, tumbling into a patch of moss as a blur of springy limbs tackled him down.
"Heya, Longears!" Tigger crowed as he bounced up, flashing his trademark grin. "You're looking remarkably groomed today."
Rabbit, still turned halfway towards his vegetables, didn't even blink. "Hello to you, too, Tigger," he replied with the nonchalance of someone used to living next to a hurricane.
But Skye wasn't going to get that slide. He launched himself right back at Tigger with a triumphant shout, tacking him from behind as the two went rolling through the underbrush like two wildlings at play. Tigger whopped in delight as they somersaulted past the treeline, kicking up leaves, laughter echoing through the woods. They barreled past Eeyore, who barely flinched as they tumbled by.
"Watch the tail," the donkey mumbled, adjusting it with a slow flick. "Or don't. Not like it's attached anyway."
Skye and Tigger didn't hear him. They were already colliding with Lumpy and Roo, who had been bouncing together near a muddy patch. The two young ones squealed with excitement, immediately joining the chaos with zero hesitation.
"Wait for meee!" Roo shouted as he leapt after them.
"Stay close, Roo!" Lumpy trumpeted, galloping behind with surprising speed for a young heffalump.
They zoomed past Lumpy's Dad, who barely had time to blink. "What in the trunks was that?"
"Children," Mama Heffalump sighed knowingly, shaking her head with a smile as she watched the stampede grow. Through the ferns, around the bend, across riverstones, they went, Skye and Tigger leading the charge with unrelenting energy as the rest now swept into the whirlwind of play behind them. By the time they reached the path to Pooh's house, laughter was echoing through the woods like music. Inside the cozy hollow of Pooh's house, Pooh himself sat opposite Darby as the two played a game of checkers, which was currently tied between them. Piglet was watching like any spectator would, and Buster? He just lay curled up on the floor by the table with a sleepy sigh. It was calm, quiet, and—
CRASH—THUMP—WHAM!
The door flew open as if a raging heffalump had kicked it, and two tangled bodies slammed through it with the force of a hurricane. Tigger and Skye rolled across the room, knocking over a vase and startling everyone in the room, straight in the air. This caused the checkerboard and checker pieces to fly everywhere.
"GOODNESS!" Piglet squeaked as he stumbled back before falling off the table tail-first and rolling into a pile of pillows.
Buster barked sharply, tail wagging, but clearly on edge.
Darby instinctively shielded Pooh but chuckled when she saw who it was. "Skye! Tigger!" She shouted over the chaos. "Would you please take it down a notch?!" Neither of them heard her. Or if they did, they just ignored her completely. They leapt to their feet again, Tigger trying to bounce up and Skye clinging to him like a shadow, both panting and laughing, faces flushed with the thrill of it all. Behind them came Kanga, Roo, Lumpy, and now Eeyore, having wandered his way over, followed by Lumpy's parents, who kept a keen eye on them in the distance, making sure nothing too chaotic would happen, Rabbit, who was still dusting himself off, and even Owl, who had taken flight to see what on earth was causing such a racket. Darby threw her hands up in an exasperated huff. "Boys..."
Pooh blinked slowly, taking in the scene before him. "Well," he said mildly, "that was unexpected."
Piglet peeked behind a small stack of books, trembling. "I—I—It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye," he squeaked nervously. "Or a tail. Or a—something! Someone's gonna get hurt, and it's always me!"
Buster gave a sharp bark in agreement, hopping up and joining the crowd now following Skye and Tigger as they dashed back outside, ready for another round of wrestling beneath the trees.
Roo called excitedly. "Race you to the river!"
(Music: “Sabor Stalking”, by Mark Mancina)
Darby looked at Pooh, still trying to catch her breath. "You'd think they were made of springs."
"Hmm," Pooh said, scratching his head thoughtfully. "I believe at least one of them is."
Darby sighed, but a smile tugged at her lips. With a half-hearted shake of her head, she followed them all out the door. The chase was on again. A blur of youth, laughter, and light beneath a sun-dappled canopy. Skye and Tigger didn't know how long they'd been wrestling for, but eventually, Skye managed to catch him in a messy, giggling headlock. Tigger flailed in his usual, dramatic fashion, his striped limbs flopping wildly as he tried to spring free, but he couldn't as Skye tightened his grip.
"OW! Okay, Okay. You win!" Tigger said, submitting to defeat, one of the rare few times he'd submitted to another opponent. Skye blinked, barely hearing him. His grip loosened slightly as his gaze shifted somewhere beyond him and Tigger.
"Ow, ow! O—okay, you win!" Tigger said again, trying to get Skye's attention. But his gaze was still focused ahead. A flicker of movement, a shape. A shadow where there shouldn't be one. It passed like a whisper across his vision, and for a split second, his breath caught.
"Hello! Dowdit! YO, YO! Let go!" Tigger's voice snapped him back to the present, limbs still squirming under his arm.
"Huh?" Skye blinked hard and released him. "Oh! Sorry Tigger. Got distracted."
Tigger rolled upright, flattening his ears dramatically. "Distracted? Distracted? That ain't how ya play fair, kid! You got me mid-bounce!" But there was no real anger in his voice, just the usual theatrical flair of a Tigger caught off guard. Rabbit, arms crossed from a safe distance, muttered something about 'chaos incarnate,' but Tigger's voice then quieted a bit. "In fact, what kind of animal are you, Skye?"
Lumpy immediately pitched in. "You know, I've been thinking lately..." he said with the serious tone only young ones have when they believe they've just made a world-altering discovery. "...that maybe Skye, Darby, and even Christopher Robin could be some subspecies of Heffalump."
Darby, who had finally caught up with the group and was brushing dirt off her knees, did a double-take. "Wait—us? Heffalumps?"
"I mean, think about it!" Lumpy declared, stomping his foot for emphasis. "You guys enjoy melons. I enjoy melons."
Darby snorted with laughter. "That's your big theory?"
Piglet looked a little scandalized. "But... they don't look anything like Heffalumps."
Roo was nodding, clearly buying into Lumpy's theory more than he probably should. "Yeah! Maybe they're smooth-Heffalumps."
Skye wasn't laughing. He drifted a few steps away from the group behind him, his eyes fixed again on the trees. That flicker was still in his mind. Something about it didn't feel right. Not an animal, not wind. It had moved too deliberately, too quietly. His Jedi senses, still dampened after two months of rest and stillness, were starting to stir. His muscles tightened. None of the others noticed yet... save for Buster. The little dog's ear twitched, and his nose lifted. He sniffed the air once, then again, slower this time. The fur along his spine began to rise. A low, uncertain growl hummed in his chest.
"Listen to me, think about it!" Lumpy was saying in the background, gesturing as if delivering a royal decree. "You enjoy melons. I enjoy melons. That's science."
Skye was no longer listening to them. He was facing the forest, eyes narrowed, every inch of his posture coiled and alert. His hand twitched near his belt, where his Lightsaber used to be, before he left it in the compartment of his starfighter. Buster, however, froze. The little terrier's nose twitched rapidly now, body locked in a rigid stance. His ears flattened, his fur bristled like pine needles in a storm. A low growl started in Buster's chest.
(Music: “Jagular Ambush / Power of the Force”, by John Debney)
Darby smirked. "Lumpy, we don't have trunks. We don't even have tails, except for Piglet, and it's tiny. I mean, look at Skye, does he look like a heffalump to you?"
And just as Skye began to turn back—
The forest exploded!
Buster attempted to bark, loud and urgent, but was a nanosecond too late. A deafening roar ripped through the trees like thunder split by a blade. The air itself seemed to lurch forward as a massive shape, part shadow, part beast, lunged from the undergrowth, pouncing toward them in a blur of black, white, and raw power.
Everyone screamed.
Skye's instincts took over. Without even realizing it, he leapt straight into the air with a force-fueled burst of speed, flipping backward out of the monster's warpath. Dirt erupted from where he'd been standing a moment before, a small crater gouged into the earth by crushing claws. Tigger let out a startled, wild "WHA-HOOOOA!" and tackled Darby mid-sprint, rolling them both out of the line of danger. Buster yelped as Roo scooped him up and darted behind a tree, only to find Kanga there already. Piglet dropped flat on his face with a squeal, and Lumpy echoed his trumpet siren, alerting the whole woods to the danger, causing several animal cries to echo across the woods as they darted for either safety underground or in the trees. Pooh just blinked up at the chaos, blinking slowly as though it were a very strange kind of dream.
But it wasn't.
The Jagular loomed above them now, larger than any predator the Hundred-Acre Woods has ever seen. It had the head of an owl, smooth and feathered, with piercing orange eyes that glowed with cold intelligence. Its snout and jaw were feline, nostrils flaring, teeth-like jagged ivory hooks bared in a primal snarl. Its hulking body resembled a bear's: thick, powerful, designed for crushing and grinding, and its tail curled and twitched like a lemur's, strangely graceful despite the ferocity. And this one...this Jagular was not orange and black or brown and white like the old stories told. It was a pattern of stark black and shimmering white, with blotches and curves like Manta Rays and Orcas rippling unnaturally across its feathered coat as if the colors themselves were alive. It shouldn't have been real. And yet, it was.
Skye sprinted for the trees, heart pounding, legs burning. He dove for a low branch and began to climb just as the creature lunged again, jaws snapping at the heels of his boots. He scrambled upward, boots slipping once, catching himself with a grunt. It was too fast.
And then...
A second roar thundered from the woods. Having heard the trumpet siren from his son, Lumpy's Dad, Heffridge Trumpler Brompet Heffalump III, AKA Papa Heffalump, an adult Heffalump, massive and gray, tusks flaring like twin scimitars, charged from the clearing like a freight train. With one powerful move, he clamped his trunk around the Jagular's tail and yanked it mid-air, stopping the beast's momentum in its tracks. The Jagular let out a bone-rattling screech of rage. The ground shook as the two titans collided, fangs versus tusks, feathers versus hide, wild instinct versus noble defense. Skye's breath was ragged, his heart pounding like the war drums of the Clone Wars in his chest as he clung to the high branch, staring at the chaos below. The ground seemed to be under the weight of the two colossal beasts as they clashed against one another.
Each stomp of Papa Heffalum's massive feet shook the trees, and each swipe of the Jagular's claw tore the air like thunderclaps. It was brutal. Primal. A collision of worlds no child should ever have to witness. But there was no time to freeze. Skye's mind sharpened. He dropped silently from the tree and bolted through the underbrush like a ghost. His feet moved without hesitation, darting between roots and low-hanging branches towards a hidden hollow beneath the roots of an old ash tree just beyond the wreckage of his starfighter that he had claimed two months ago, where three makeshift spears lay hidden beneath a woven mat of dried leaves, yet he only needed one. He didn't know what a spear would do to something like that, but he couldn't just watch. Not when the people he came to see as friends were in danger.
Back at the clearing, terror bloomed like wildfire. The others remained frozen, caught in that fragile moment between disbelief and pure panic. Mama Heffalump crouched low over Lumpy, her broad, protective form shielding her trembling child as he whimpered, "Papa..." again and again. Her eyes were wide, but her jaw was clenched. She knew the stakes. Tigger, despite his boundless energy, held Darby close, his arms over her eyes; Darby was practically hugging him out of fear of what was happening down below between the two titans. Buster trembled behind her, tail tucked, growling softly, but backed away, the scent of fear sharp in his nose. Piglet and Pooh scrambled off through the grass, trying to find a hiding spot, diving into the thicket with frantic squeaks. Piglet's tiny legs pumped faster than ever before.
Only Roo, eyes wide with awe and mouth slightly agape, dared to peek from his Mom's pouch even though she tried to keep him hidden in there so that he wouldn't get any nightmares. He didn't understand the danger, not fully. All he saw was a grand spectacle of monsters, like a fairy tale come to life. He'd never seen anything so huge, so loud, so real. Meanwhile, Lumpy's Dad gave it everything he had. He drove his tusks into the Jagular's side, nearly catching the creature in the ribs. He swung his trunk, smashing a branch clean off a tree as it barely missed its target. He tried to stomp, shove, and bellow, using every ounce of size and strength gifted to him by his kind. But the Jagular was no ordinary beast. It moved like smoke and struck like lightning.
One second, it was in front of him; the next, it was behind; and then, leaping over him entirely, feathers rippling with an otherworldly shimmer. Its eyes glowed with cunning, not just animal instinct. There was intent behind those strikes. And in a blur of feathers, claws, and shadows, Papa Heffalump fell. The Jagular slammed into him, its powerful form toppling the great Heffalump onto his side with a ground-shaking THUD! The impact sent leaves skittering into the wind.
"PAPA!!!" Lumpy cried out, voice cracking in fear and desperation.
He tried to run forward, but Mama Heffalump pulled him back with her trunk, holding him close. Her own eyes were wide with panic, but she whispered urgently. "Don't look, baby. Don't look. It's going to be okay." But her voice trembled.
The Jagular turned, breathing heavily, feathers twitching. It circled Lumpy's Dad like a Lion preparing for the final blow. Papa lay still, eyes locked on the creature. He wasn't unconscious. Not yet. But he wasn't rising either. He stared at the Jagular with a heavy, stoic gaze. Not fear, acceptance. He knew what was coming, and there was nothing more he could do.
The beast charged, ready to strike.
But at the last second—
"RAAAHHHH!" From the canopy above, Skye came swinging down, gripping a thick vine in one hand and one of his hand-crafted spears in the other, his cloak billowing behind him like wings. He wasn't a blur of fury like any of the seasoned Jedi warriors he knew. He was something raw. Unshaped. Driven by instinct, courage, and something deeper. The force pulsed through him. Not fully, not unleashed, but enough. Enough to guide his movements. Enough to sharpen his aim. Enough to carry the momentum of his swing into the Jagular's side with a loud 'WHAM!' just as it reached the apex of its leap, striking it hard enough with his feet to knock the predator off-balance, sending it stumbling sideways in a tumble of shadows, fur, and snarling feathers. Dust and leaves were kicked into the air in an explosion of motion.
Gasps echoed through the forest, followed by the war cries of animals from all around the area, as if they were clamoring for battle in a gladiatorial arena. Skye landed in a crouch between the Jagular and Lumpy's Dad, feet digging into the soil, chest heaving. He immediately dropped into a defensive stance, spear held firm, legs braced. The Jagular quickly whipped itself on its feet, feathers bristling, black-and-white hide gleaming in the dappled light like an orca in the woods, eerie and otherworldly. And then... they slowly began to circle each other. Boy and beast, staring each other down. As the forest seemed to hold its breath, other animals slowly peeked out, hearing the war cries of the other animals, before finding their eyes wide and mouths agape at the scene before them.
Darby emerged from Tigger's striped arms, lips parted in speechless awe. Piglet peeked from behind a log, eyes almost too wide for his head. Pooh stood beside him, blinking slowly, his honeypot forgotten in one paw. Buster's nose twitched, and low growls caught in his throat. Mama Heffalump clutched Lumpy close, but even she could not look away. Kanga's jaw dropped, completely flabbergasted by what she was seeing. And Roo, poking his head out of his mom's pouch, whispered in utter disbelief. "Did—Did he just fight it?!" The energy shifted. Awe replaced confusion. Fear replaced Awe. Anticipation replaced Fear. All eyes were now on Skye, the quiet boy who had lived among them, played pranks, gathered firewood, and told stories around the campfire... now stood between a Monster and a fallen Titan as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
The war cries became louder and louder as more animals came to rally to their kin's calling. But the main group, the ones closest, didn't move. Couldn't. Darby's heart thundered in her chest. Her voice caught in her throat. She didn't know what to say, or if she should say anything at all! Because for the first time, as the sunlight cut through the trees and bathed the scene in golden streaks, Skye didn't look like a boy.
He looked like a Warrior.
Skye's feet moved slowly, carefully, and balanced. Spear tip glinting faintly in the shafts of light that broke through the canopy above. His mind was calm, or at least trying to be. The thrum of the force whispered at the edge of his senses. Not yet commanding, but watching. Waiting. The Jagular's feathers twitched in anticipation. Orange eyes locked onto Skye with eerie, calculated intelligence. Then, it lunged. A blur of black and white, it came low and fast, feathers flaring like sails, its massive jaws opening with a bone-rattling snarl. Skye didn't hesitate. He backpedaled instantly, then ducked low, making the Jagular leap over him before whirling around as the beast did a 180. Skye planted the tip of his spear into the dirt and vaulted over the beast's next charge, twisting mid-air like a gymnast.
His cloak fluttered behind him like the wing of a hawk. The Jagular snarled in frustration as its claws tore into the empty Earth. He landed on the other side in a smooth crouch, boots skittering slightly in the underbrush. The Jagular whipped around, and the chase began. They darted around a massive tree, its bark ancient and gnarled, roots like veins twisting above the ground. The beast snarled with each turn, feathers brushing the bark, claws digging into the roots for traction. Skye mirrored its movements, sharp and focused, using the tree as cover. They were two shadows spiraling around each other, hunter and hunted, though it was unclear who was who. Skye then spotted a vine, and without missing a beat, he grabbed it, dug his feet into the bark of the tree, and swung around in a wide arc.
He moved fast, using the momentum to launch himself toward where he expected the Jagular to be, hoping to flank it... But it wasn't there. He landed in a crouch on the branch, confused, senses flaring. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as the silence roamed once more. Something wasn't right. Then, a shift in the wind. The force screamed a warning, and he turned his gaze upward just in time to see the Jagular leaping from above, claws poised to strike. Skye gritted his teeth and raised his spear in both hands, no time for elegance, only reaction. The Jagular collided with the shaft of the weapon, the force of the blow shuddering Skye's arms, but he held firm. With a defiant yell, he pushed back and twisted the shaft to redirect the beast's momentum.
The sharp metal tip scraped across the Jagular's leg, leaving a deep gash along its thigh. Black feathers were ripped away in a flurry, and the beast fell to the floor in a pained, screeching roar. It rolled once, then slammed into a nearby tree, shaking loose a cascade of leaves. Skye stumbled a bit before grabbing a vine and hanging from it, feet planted into the bark of the stem, spear still held. The Jagular growled in pain, a little concussed from the fall, one leg limping slightly now, a long scar visible across the white of its hide, staining the fur and feathers with dark crimson. From the treeline, the others watched with growing awe and dread. Tigger's jaw dropped; Kanga and Roo's eyes were as dinner plates; Pooh clung to Piglet, who whispered in a shaking voice, "D—D—D—Did he just wound it?!"
Lumpy stood frozen beside his mother, who shielded his eyes again, but this time, he peeked through her trunk. And Darby? Darby stared, mouth open, heart pounding. This wasn't play, nor was it mischief. This was a fight. And Skye was winning. The initial silence that followed after the Jagular tumbled and fell was shattered instantly. A wave of wild cries echoed through the Hundred-Acre Woods, rising like a tribal chant. Some sounds seemed to mirror those of Gorilla and Monkey cries. Squirrels screamed from behind the trees, birds let out staccato shrieks, and far-off badgers bellowed in support. The forest itself seemed to rally behind Skye, celebrating the first successful wound he dealt to the predator. Even Tigger, Roo, and a few others let out hoots and cheers. Half from awe, and the other half from adrenaline.
"He did it!" Roo gasped, shaking joyfully in Kanga's pouch. "He actually got it!"
But the triumph was short-lived. The Jagular lay low on the ground, panting, its shoulders rising and falling with sharp rhythmic beats. It twisted its owl-like head to glance at the deep gash on its leg. Its orange eyes flickered. Not with fear, but with fury. It glanced back upward at Skye and hissed. A sound like a dying wind whistling through bone-dry reeds. Sharp, wrong, ancient. Skye whipped up his spear, still hanging onto the vine, and responded instinctively. His own snarl tore through his throat, low and guttural, not quite human. For a heartbeat, he didn't recognize the sound as his own. It came from somewhere deeper. Somewhere older. He dropped from the tree, spear in hand, and landed with feline grace, leaves scattering at his feet.
Round Two.
The two predators began to circle again, taking slow, deliberate steps. Eyes locked. One wounded, one ready. The Jagular was faster this time. It darted forward, zigzagging, a blur of motion, unpredictable and vicious. Skye braced himself, spear raised vertically like a Knight's shield.
But it was a feint!
The Jagular rose high as if to pounce, but in a split-second pivot, it dipped low and slashed across Skye's chest with one of its hooked talons.
"NNGH!!" Skye was thrown back, pain flaring across his ribs like a brand across his ribs. His tunic split open in a spray of scarlet. He nearly dropped the spear from the impact alone, but the sheer force of will kept his grip clenched tight. The sound of the wound being made, a wet slash, hung in the air longer than it should have.
"SKYE!!!" Darby's voice cracked. She pushed past Tigger without even thinking, her instincts overriding any ounce of sense. "No, no, no—!" She cried, trying to get to him. "He's hurt, he's—we need to help him!"
Tigger caught her arm just in time and pulled her back. "Darby, wait! You can't! He's still in there!"
"But he's bleeding, Tigger. He's—he's—" her voice broke, eyes wide with horror. She could see the blood staining his tunic, could see him reeling on his feet, breath shallow, the spear trembling in his hands. "He's going to die," she whispered, barely audible, clutching Tigger's fur. "He's going to die, and we're just standing here—" She didn't notice the tears rimming her eyes, but her heart thudded against her ribs like it wanted to burst out and race to him herself. Buster barked, pacing in circles. Roo ducked his head under his mom's pouch, even though he never usually did. Kanga covered her eyes as well. Mama Heffalump closed her eyes, murmuring soft words to soothe her son, but even she couldn't look. Piglet trembled in Pooh's arms, and for once, the bear of little brain had no words at all. Only the wind moved through the trees now.
Even the forest animals who had once cheered now fell silent.
The pain in Skye's chest burned like wildfire as he clutched at the slashed fabric and the slick blood beneath it. But there wasn't time, the Jagular was already upon him again. With a terrifying shriek, the beast lunged forward, knocking Skye off his feet and pinning him to the forest floor in a cloud of dirt, feathers, and leaves. The creature's weight was unbearable, the scent of earth and blood mixing with its own musk, a blend of an Owl and predator and shadow. Its massive paw slammed down, and in one clean, vicious sweep, the tip of Skye's spear was severed, spiraling end-over-end into the underbrush with a soft thunk, disappearing into the darkness. Time froze. Skye's eyes widened as he saw the jagged end of the now-useless weapon still clutched in his hands. Panic surged, but he wrestled it down. Not now.
The Jagular bared its teeth, saliva dripping from its maw. Its breath was hot and sour against his face. 'Move!' Skye let instinct take over. Using the splintered shaft of the spear like a crossbar, he wedged it beneath the Beast's throat, forcing it back up just enough. His legs coiled like springs beneath him, then with a roar of exertion, he kicked upward with all of his strength. The Jagular was thrown off balance, its claws raking the dirt beside his head as he stumbled backward. Skye rolled, stomach flat on the ground. No time to regroup. He glanced at the now-broken spear shaft, its sharp tip lost in the brush. His gaze snapped behind him. The Jagular was recovering fast, its orange eyes locking on him again, and it charged. Skye spun on his heel, pulse thundering in his ears. Adrenaline flooded his limbs.
Every muscle snapped into motion. He got on all fours, his chest still screaming from the wound, and vaulted toward the nearest tree, running up the trunk before pushing off and grabbing a vine. The Jagular's claw swiped where his feet had just been. He swung; One branch, then another, fluid, wild, graceful, almost beast-like himself. He twisted mid-air, then somersaulted to the forest floor, landing in a crouch. Then, he ran. Not with the force. Not yet. This was pure, raw speed, an animal sprint. His feet barely touched the earth as he darted between trees and roots, faster than anyone had ever seen him move. Leaves and petals kicked up behind him like a trail of falling sparks. He wasn't just running to escape; he was leading the Jagular away. From the others. From Darby. From Lumpy. From everyone. Behind him, the Jagular gave chase, its breath echoing like thunder in the woods, snarling in fury at its prey's sudden burst of life.
"SKYE!!!" Darby's scream rang through the woods like a bell of sheer panic. It wasn't just worry; it was terror, heartbreak, and desperation, all crashing together in one raw, broken cry. Her voice cracked halfway through as she surged forward once more, her hand outstretched as if she could somehow reach him, somehow pull him back from what looked like certain death. She saw him, a blur of motion ahead, darting through the trees like a silver streak of lightning. The Jagular, hulking and furious, was right on his heels.
Tigger lunged once more to stop her, with Pooh joining in this time. "Darby, we have to go! He'll be fine!" The golden bear said.
"Let 'im do his thing, Darbbuddy!" Tigger added, trying to hold her by the shoulder. "He's got springy legs, too. He'll be—HEY—"
Darby didn't listen. With a burst of agility and a mind sharpened by experience, even for an 11-year-old, she ducked under Pooh's arm, swerved around Tigger, used Piglet as a springboard, and scrambled over Mama Heffalump before anyone could stop her.
"DARBY! GET BACK HERE!" Lumpy shouted, but her feet were already pounding through the grass. Buster barked once, twice, then tore after his owner. He had been her loyal companion since she was six. The others had no choice but to follow her. Tigger bounded like a ball of frightened energy, Pooh a bit slower but determined, Roo giggling with fear and excitement as he held onto the rims of his mom's pouch, as Kanga hopped with motherly urgency, and Piglet, whose knees were knocking together as he sprinted in his own waddly way. Even Eeyore, sighing, plodded along at the rear.
But Darby was in the lead.
And every ounce of her body was screaming one word: Skye.
She didn't even realize she was crying. The wind tore at her face, but the hot streaks down her cheeks weren't just from the cold. The sight of that beast pinning him down, the blood, the broken spear, the fear in his eyes, she'd never seen him like that. As the memories flooded her mind, especially the one of them hugging each other on that sunset hill two months ago, something in her snapped.
She wouldn't let him do this alone.
Skye, on the other hand, ran as if the very air behind him would combust if he slowed for even a fraction of a second. His breath came in sharp gasps, his chest burning not just from exhaustion but from the still-bleeding gash. The Jagular's roar echoed off the trees behind him, closer now, always closer, no matter how hard he turned, leapt, or darted between the trunks. His mind raced: 'It's too fast. It's tracking me too well. This isn't normal.' He glanced back; there it was, almost graceful in its deadly movements, charging forward like a living storm. 'How does it always know where I'm going?!' Something wasn't right. He slid under a low branch, leapt over a thorny bush, then vaulted in a crouch... right at the edge of a steep cliff. His heart stopped.
The wind rushed past his ears. Down below, a misty expanse of wilderness sprawled like a distant dream. He spun around. The Jagular thundered toward him, its massive limbs pounding the earth. Its orange eyes glinted black and white, reflecting shapes that almost looked like... waves? No time to think. Skye glanced down again. The wind at the edge of the cliff howled louder than ever, whispering possibilities and consequences into Skye's ears.
'Too steep.'
His eyes darted down the rocky abyss: jagged edges, sheer drops, and nowhere soft to land. He could try to slow the fall using the force, but it was dicey. Timing was everything. And timing? That had never been his strong suit. Not under pressure. Not when it counted most.
'Too fast.'
He looked up across the chasm. He could maybe leap it. His legs were strong: enhanced and trained. But not that strong. And even if he made it, the Jagular would still come. He'd only delay the inevitable. He'd be running forever.
'Too Risky.'
Several more war cries echoed from the trees, distant, almost muted behind the blood pounding in his ears. The beast was coming closer now. The ground trembled with each of its steps. And Skye's options were running out.
But there was one more. The one he kept buried.
The riskiest of them all.
The loudest and the most visible one.
Use the force... openly. Blast it back. Let them see. Let them all see who he really was. His fingers twitched. He looked back toward the trees. He could see them now. Darby, just barely breaking through the brush, eyes wide, her heart in her throat, screaming his name. Buster at her side, barking like mad. Tigger, Pooh, Roo, everyone was coming. They would see everything. They'll know. They'll all know.
Five Seconds: His throat clenched. His muscles tensed.
Four: He exhaled slowly, steadying his breath like Master Plo taught him.
Three: The beast came into full view, snarling as its claws ripped through the underbrush.
TWO: His mind raced. 'Do it, or Die!'
ONE.
'SCREW IT!' Skye roared in his head. His legs rooted in the earth, he pulled back his arms. Like the deepest inhale of the planet itself, he drew the force in, felt it surge through his bones, his breath, his blood. The air bent. The trees groaned, bending inward as if being sucked towards him. A whirlwind of leaves rose around him. 'Please work,' his mind whispered, every syllable a prayer. 'Please work, please work, please work, please work—'
Then the Jagular lept. Time slowed. Its body arched in the air, all claws and feathers and death.
And at the last second—
It was as if the very air cracked open. A shockwave of raw, concussive power exploded from Skye's now outstretched palms, thundering like a cannon blast that shook the heavens. The energy was bright, silver-white with streaks of electric blue, like a lightning storm made physical, and for an instant, just an instant, Skye was at the center of a force-born hurricane. The forest erupted. Leaves scattered like flocks of birds, whirling in every direction as branches were snapped clean off and were hurled across the woods. Globs of dirt launched into the air like cannonballs, clumps of moss and mud torn from the very earth. Gouts of stone split and flew, tiny meteors in every direction, blasted from the cliffside like the land itself had exhaled in fear. And the Jagular? It was launched.
A thunderous crack followed as the massive predator was sent skyward, tumbling through the air like a ragdoll, limbs flailing mid-air, its body twisting from the impact. It slammed against a tree and ricocheted. But right then, right in the flash of disorienting light between the impact and the rebound, just a blink of a moment, Skye saw something. A shimmer. Like oil on water or the moonlight breaking through an illusion. For the briefest instant, the Jagular's image rippled, its bear-owl-jungle-cat body warped, as if a veil had just been lifted just enough to show another shape within.
'What the—?!'
But then it was gone.
But the blastwave didn't stop with the Jagular. It kept going. It rushed outward, growing wilder and more intense. The shockwave slammed into the trees with a thunderous crack, snapping smaller branches and rattling the canopy.
And then it hit them.
"WHOOOOAOOOAAHHHH!" Tigger yelped, his springy legs flying up as the wind knocked him off-balance.
Darby had been running full-sprint, but the wave caught her like a truck. She screamed as she flipped forward, only to land right into Tigger's arms. He bounced onto a tree, slamming against it back-first, but he caught her. Not just Darby, Pooh, Piglet, and Buster all came tumbling toward him in the gale, and somehow, some way, Tigger managed to twist, flex, and scoop them all into a ridiculous wobbling pile just as they collided.
"NGH! I gotcha!" Tigger wheezed, pinned between bark, fuzz, and friends. Farther back, Lumpy gripped his mother's legs, eyes wide with wonder and fear, his tiny trunk stuck in his mouth like a pacifier. Mama Heffalump's form was rooted like a massive fortress, standing tall as the wind howled past her ears. Her trunk whipped out—
Caught Kanga Mid-Air. There wasn't even a second of hesitation. Her movements were swift, instinctive, born of a mother's primal urge to protect. The tip of her powerful trunk wrapped snugly around Kanga's waist just as she spun helplessly through the air, eyes wide with shock. The momentum swung Kanga to the ground, but Mama Heffalump planted her massive feet and twisted, pivoting her trunk to slowly lower the Kangaroo down, like a lifeboat being reeled in during a storm. Roo, snuggled inside his mother's pouch the whole time, flailed his tiny arms joyfully, squealing as if he were in an amusement park.
"Again! Again!! That was awesome!"
Kanga, heart still pounding, blinked, trying to make sense of what had just happened. As the wind howled past them, she looked over her shoulder at the glowing pulse of energy now dissipating through the forest in swirling currents of light and wind. Meanwhile, Tigger and the rest were mid-flight, limbs flailing, carried helplessly by the aftermath of the shockwave like dolls in a hurricane. Tigger twisted in the air, his arms clutching Darby, Pooh, Piglet, and Buster in a tangled, panicking pile. However, he noticed they were arching in the air, and the ground started coming fast.
"INCOMING!" he hollered and twisted in the air so his back was facing the ground.
Darby, too, caught sight of the rapidly approaching ground. "BRACE FOR IMPACT!" She yelled.
With a loud 'WHAM!', the group slammed into a slope, a shadow hill covered in moss and rock. Tigger hit first on his back, his spine absorbing most of the collision with a sickening boing-thud. The sound was both squishy and solid, like rubber hitting pavement. The impact made Tigger's eyes cross for a second, but his natural bounce saved their lives. Everyone else scattered like leaves from the point of impact. Darby rolled, hitting the ground shoulder-first and tumbling twice before skidding to a stop. She groaned, a scrape now glowing red on her arm. Piglet landed in a bush, dazed, but miraculously cushioned. Buster let out a 'YIPE!' as he ricocheted off a log and flopped down beside Darby. Pooh spun twice mid-air before plopping face-first into a patch of soft soil, murmuring, "Oh bother."
Tigger groaned as he peeled himself off the slope. His fur was ruffled, his limbs splayed out at odd angles. "Ow... I think I bounced my bounce," he wheezed, blinking unevenly. Despite being made of rubber, bruises already began forming. A rare sight on someone so invincible-feeling. Everyone around him groaned, clutching scraped knees, bruised elbows, or sore heads. Then, the energy in the air evaporated, leaving only silence. And into that silence crept something strange. A fog. A low, crawling mist rolled in from all directions, blanketing the forest floor in an ocean of white. It poured in like water over a dam, swallowing trees, leaves, rocks, and shadows alike. Within seconds, it engulfed the surrounding woods entirely. Thick and surreal. A fog so dense, it looked like one could swim in it.
The vibrant green and browns of the Hundred-Acre Woods vanished into the infinite white. Shapes became silhouettes. Voices became echoes. Time itself seemed to pause. Somewhere far off in the distance, a branch broke, and a raven called once, then nevermore. The only sound now was the wind.
(Music: “Grounded in Fury”), by John Powell & Bear McCreary)
Skye stood alone, panting, in the fog. He was down on his knees after he unleashed that force blast because he didn't realize how much energy it would exert from him. His limbs were heavy with exhaustion, and his skin was damp with sweat, mixed with debris. He slowly got on his knees, his gaze darting around through the mist, scanning between trunks, over brush, and into the barely visible canopy above. Nothing. No sign of the Jagular, no footprints, no movement, not even a distant rustle. The forest had never felt this quiet before. But what gnawed at him more than the silence was the realization. He looked down at his hands, still faintly trembling from the force discharge. That wasn't a shove. Heck, it hadn't been a simple push or even a defensive maneuver. Skye tapped in too deep.
The woods, this planet, were woven with the force, like threads spun into the fabric of its soil and sky. And when Skye reached into that pool, he didn't just take a sip. He plunged in, body and soul, and the echo of it still reverberated through the trees. The ground at his feet was littered with debris: leaves, pebbles, even a squirrel's nest that had fallen into pieces. He turned in a slow circle, dread building in his stomach.
And then it hit him.
The blast, the magnitude... he didn't just throw back a creature. He threw back everything. Including... His eyes widened as horror clawed into his expression. "Darby...?" He whispered. No answer. His voice cracked louder now, pushing through the fog like a warning flare. "DARBY?! TIGGER?! POOH?! ...ANYONE?!" Only his voice echoed back to him, warped, broken, bouncing off trunks and drifting into nothingness. Panic swelled in his chest like a balloon ready to burst. He stumbled forward through the fog, using the force to try and heal the slash on his chest he received from earlier, pushing aside hanging vines and broken branches. His heart pounded against his ribs. "You idiot. You idiot!" he hissed under his breath."Why did you do that?! Why didn't you run in another direction? Why didn't you just—" He stopped, seething.
His fingers clenched into fists as a flash of anger overcame him. Then, with a roar, he punched the side of a random tree trunk, the wood slightly cracking under the blow. But the forest had a way of humiliating him.
CRACK!
The branch above, struck by his force-imbued anger, snapped and came crashing down. It slammed into his shoulder, knocking him off-balance and onto the ground with a sharp grunt. "OW—Son of a—" He muttered, rubbing his shoulder and glaring upward, when he paused. His anger evaporated almost immediately. He looked around and, for the first time, noticed the landscape around him. The tree he had just struck... was nearly split in half. Not splintered, split. The inner rings of the trunk were exposed, like a snapped bone. Sap oozed out from the break, slow and sticky like blood. He turned slowly and saw the churned-up earth on his left. A trench-like groove was carved through the forest floor. Bark had been stripped from trunks in a perfectly straight line. Rocks had been displaced. Trees snapped near their roots.
Something massive slammed through here.
Skye's breath caught in his throat. 'Did—Did I do that?'
Or had the Jagular? He looked down at the ground, placing a palm on the dirt. It was still warm from impact, still vibrating with the residual force energy. He scanned further until he spotted a drag mark. Not from claws, but from a body skidding through the underbrush. A gut-wrenching thought struck him. 'Was it one of them?' His friends. He hadn't meant to do it, hadn't known he could do it. But it was a last-second decision. How else was he supposed to get out of there? The force he'd called on had answered in full, more than full in fact, and now... he was terrified of what he might find. Skye moved forward slowly, following the trail of churned-up earth. A jagged scar carved into the forest floor. Branches have been torn from trees, and rocks lie scattered.
As he pushed past a thick hedge, while doing a small climb up, he caught a glimpse of something. A flash of black, something low to the ground, half-buried under a splintered mess of fallen limbs and torn bushes. His heart leapt. He ducked down instinctively, heart pounding.
The Jagular?!
He waited, watched, listened. But nothing moved. Carefully, he peeked his head up again. His eyes were as wide as saucers. What he saw was not the Jagular. Not even close. It was something else. A creature was pinned beneath several massive branches, its body remaining absolutely still. Skye flashed back to the moment he let the force blast loose, blinking for a split second when he saw something lift from the Jagular and something else take its place. Like a veil was lifted. He blinked. The illusion was gone! But what remained now was something far more real... and far more dangerous. Instead of fur, the body of the creature in question was covered in a thick, almost scaly-looking, jet-black hide glistening in the fog. Wait. Scaly? Was that the black dot that he saw almost 2 months ago? A scale?
Was this the same animal he saw that one night? The creature was smooth, sleek, almost like liquid obsidian poured into the shape of a predator. It had small light patches in a pattern similar to a manta ray. Across its back, stretched an enormous pair of wings, shredded slightly at the edges but unmistakable in their span. Further down were two smaller pairs of fins, one near the base of the tail and the other right at the very tip. 'Steering fins!' Skye realized. 'That's what they must be. The kind of appendages needed for extreme aerial control.' But the head... That caught his attention the most. It had no external ears, only fin-like flaps along either side of its head that twitched slightly, sensing the air. Its snout was short, its profile smooth and aerodynamic, except at the very tip, where the flesh darkened into a wet, leathery rhinarium, like a desert animal adapted for tracking.
Skye took in every detail, silently awestruck. It looked nothing like a Jagular. Rather a— 'Oh, what was that word?!' That story he'd heard back in the Temple on Coruscant. The one Anakin used to whisper stories about. Tales that came from the dune seas of Tatooine. And the same ones he and Darby used to stay up reading about during his two months here in the Hundred-Acres, pretending they were brave enough to find one. He didn't have time. He quickly pulled out a makeshift knife in case the creature got out and slowly crept down to where it was pinned. He used the rocks as space between him and the animal until there wasn't any more left. He peeked closer, taking a few more hesitant steps forward. It wasn't moving. And yet, for some reason, an overwhelming sadness crept into Skye's heart.
He crouched closer to the animal and reached out his hand to try and feel for a life force. It turned out he didn't have to because the animal flinched, and Skye stumbled back, startled, until he hit his back against a big rock, panting in shock. It was at that moment that Skye registered a faint shimmer of the force still clinging to its body, like heat waves off stone. Man alive! Now he knew why the veil was lifted. It hadn't been a mere beast; it was using the force, connected to it even! Masking itself. Fooling everyone! Steam hissed from its nostrils, breathing heavily as Skye slowly approached this time. Cautiously, carefully, curiously. Then, he involuntarily froze. Its eye was open. A green slit, watching. He'd heard other stories of how an eye like the creature he was standing before could freeze anyone on the spot with fear.
Except... that wasn't what was happening. If anything, it looked scared, terrified even. There was a low moan, and Skye could swear he heard a pleading tone in its voice. Even though it tried to hide it, Skye saw it. Felt it. The force flowed between them like a silent current, revealing more than words ever could. His hand gripped his makeshift knife tightly, his fingers trembling. He stood over the creature, holding it at the ready. This thing, whatever it was, attacked his friends. It hunted them through the woods with nightmares made real. Had forced him to draw on the deepest well of power he had ever touched. This animal was the reason Darby was now missing. The reason for the fear, the pain, the destruction. The creature emitted another low moan, desperate, heartbreaking. For a minute, Skye didn't care. He could end it. Right now.
And he almost did. But then, as Skye looked into the animal's gaze, which stared back at him, he saw it. Really saw it. Not a predator, not a monster, not even an enemy. It was frightened just as much as he was. It was then that he realized what he was thinking. All of those thoughts of ending the animal's life here and now? That was not him. He was better than this. He was taught to rise above emotions like Anger and hate since his early days in the Temple. The animal's limbs trembled, not in rage, but in pain. Its wing twitched uselessly. Its gaze wasn't hate; it was pleading. Skye felt a ripple in the force, gentle, vulnerable. It reminded him of the way he was told he might be too different to belong. Too odd to be trusted. That deep, aching sense of isolation. Of being something... other. The animal looked up at him.
And then, it lowered its head, making another noise, but this one was higher, less pleading. Slowly, softly. Like it was telling him to go ahead. It was accepting death. Something twisted in Skye's chest. He looked down at the makeshift knife, then at the branches pinning the creature. His grip loosened. "Why..." He whispered to himself, barely audible. "Why are you afraid?" Why was it just as afraid as he was? He lowered his knife. "I did this." He took a step back, then another. He could leave it. Let nature finish the job. Let time bury it. But... he looked again at the animal. Saw its sides heaving, saw its silent surrender.
And did the unthinkable.
Skye sheathed his knife and stepped forward, hands raised and heart pounding. "Alright..." he whispered, voice tight, unsure if he was talking to the animal or itself. "Okay... I've got you." One by one, he began to lift the massive limbs pinning the animal. Branch after branch. Some were heavy, too heavy. But the force surged through his limbs, amplifying his strength. The creature tensed with every movement. Its eyes now snapped open, locking onto him, unsure of what was happening.
Then, the last branch rolled away with a heavy crack, like the final snipping of a thread.
And the animal exploded into motion! A black blur of muscle and rage pounced like a coiled spring unleashed. Skye barely had any time to react; his body moved slower than his instincts, and the next thing he knew, he was on his back. The air rushed from his lungs as his shoulders slammed into the cold, wet mud, the impact knocking his breath out like a punch from a droid. Claws dug into the earth just inches from his neck. Not on him, but close enough that he could feel the tremor of their weight. The animal stared at Skye with huge, cat-like green eyes. Burning, piercing, unblinking. Skye couldn't move, speak, or breathe. Every ounce of Jedi training, every moment of calm, of control, vanished in those green eyes. This wasn't a sparring partner, or a training droid, or a predator in the shadows. This was something ancient.
Something alive in a way, the force itself pulsed through. His fingers curled instinctively in the dirt.
Was this it?
The creature reared up, snarling, wings spreading, its sleek chest rising like a storm cloud in the sky. Skye flinched, and hard. He braced for the end: claws, teeth, and probably fire. But neither of the three happened. Instead, it roared. A sound like thunder torn from the throat of a mountain exploded in Skye's face. Hot air rushed over him in a wave, nearly flipping him over. It wasn't just sound, it was emotion given voice. Not pain, not hatred, but rage, frustration, and... fear? Skye didn't flinch at the volume, not anymore. He just stared, wide-eyed and open-souled, heart pounding with the same rhythm as the creature's chest. The animal's head hovered over him for a beat longer. Long enough for Skye to see the tension in its body, the tremble in its wing. Long enough to feel the conflict inside it: fight, flee, trust, or kill.
Then, without warning, it snorted and turned. Wings unfurled with a crack like sails in a gale. The sheer force of it kicked up debris, mud, and leaves. Skye turned his face away, squinting as the wind lashed across his face. And then the animal launched through the bushes, tree branches, and leaves through the woods into the open clearings, not cleanly, not with grace. It faltered for some reason as it staggered in flight, hitting a cliffside as it flew. But it was enough to vanish. And like a shadow dissolving into mist, it was gone. Swallowed by the fog. Skye didn't move for a long while. He lay there in the churned-up earth, soaked with mud and the remnants of upturned roots, his heart still thundering from the encounter. His limbs felt heavy, his breath shallow, and his mind was a tangle of adrenaline, confusion, and awe.
Above him, the white fog was beginning to thin, pulled away in slow wisps like breath from a sleeping giant. Skye's gaze lingered toward the space where the animal had disappeared. The fog was thick there but slowly thinning, as if pulling the curtains back at the end of a play. He slowly sat up, wincing. As he pulled himself up, his whole body ached from the force blast, the crash, the roar, and there was still the slash that needed attention. But it wasn't the pain that he focused on. It was the memory. The green eyes, the scream of emotion that felt so much like his own: fury, fear, defiance. He didn't even know what he had just encountered. That was no Jagular. It looked nothing like what the others had described. No fur, no long claws, no growling or snarling like a beast of the woods. What was that? And why didn't it attack him?
Before he could finish the thought, footsteps sounded. Soft at first, crunching through fallen leaves and underbrush. Then more, rushed, urgent, accompanied by voices that grew louder with each second.
"Skye?!"
"SKYE!!!"
"Where is he?!"
His head snapped to the side, ears attuned as the sound approached.
"SKYE!!"
He turned just in time and was nearly tackled off his feet. A pair of arms wrapped around him, tight, unrelenting, and completely unexpected. It was Darby. She hugged him like she never intended to let go, trembling slightly as she pressed her face into his chest. Skye stood there, stunned, but remembered it wasn't the first time he had been hugged by her. His face flushed red, partly from the crash of emotions, partly because, well, it was Darby. And he knew the feeling since that day on the hill.
"D-Darby?"
"YOU... IDIOT!" She shouted in his chest, despite being heard audibly, though her voice cracked between relief and fury. "YOU ABSOLUTE, GODFORSAKEN, JAGULAR-DODGING DAREDEVIL!"
Skye audibly winced, never having heard her like this before. "I—"
"I thought you were gone, Skye! You scared me half to death!" Her words came in a flurry, emotions crashing over themselves like a storm tide.
"Hey," he said softly, slowly returning the hug, holding her gently with certainty, unlike the first time they hugged back on that sunset hill two months ago, trying to calm her. "I'm okay now. I'm okay."
"You weren't okay five minutes ago!" she shot back. Her voice cracked again as she started rambling, words spilling from her mouth as fast as the panic had flooded her earlier. "I—I mean, first we saw the Jagular appear, roaring like it wanted to tear the sky open, then you were gone like a ghost only—only to come back with a spear, saving Lumpy's Dad in the nick of time—and—and that thing hurt you—then you ran off like some speedster, and—and you didn't even look back!" She squeezed him so hard to the point where she weakly hit her hands against his back. "And then the whole forest exploded like—like a friggin' bomb went off and—" Her voice cracked again, and her words stuttered to a halt as her voice faltered, dropping. "I thought—I thought—"
Just then, a soft yap interrupted them, and something warm and furry shoved its way between both their legs with a tail wagging like a metronome gone wild. Buster barked once, clearly scolding, then immediately got on his hind legs and placed his forward paws on Skye's legs, nudging them, his tail still thumping hard enough to knock pinecones loose from the underbrush.
"Okay, okay. I missed you, too, buddy." He chuckled, ruffling the terrier's head with one hand while keeping his arm around Darby with the other. He then glanced back at her, her face still buried in his clothes, still holding him like there was no tomorrow, despite them being dirty and marked with the slash wound he'd received from the fight earlier.
"Darby?" He asked, still worried that she was mad at him for jumping straight into danger. He squeezed his eyes shut, then softened his voice. "I'm sorry... for scaring you like that. But please understand that I couldn't just sit by and watch whatever that thing was attack everyone. I had to do something." Darby was still silent, still gripping onto his robes and cloak, as if letting go would make him disappear.
"Please say something." Skye whispered, "I wouldn't forgive myself if I lost one of my best friends. I don't know what I would do if you stopped helping me out."
Finally, Darby spoke, breathing shakily, her voice quiet but raw. "I'm not mad," she murmured, seeming to have calmed down and collected herself after a moment. "I just—I don't know if I can see something like this happen to you again."
"I know. And I'm sorry for scaring you," Skye said once more, running his hand along her back in smooth circles, trying to calm her. "But I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere." Though not able to see, he could feel her slow shift of emotions through the force. Her face was flushed, eyes damp at the edges, breath still shaking, but she was smiling now. A little shaky, but smiling. Skye held her close to him as Buster nudged both their legs. The sound of footsteps registered, but Skye didn't acknowledge them. Right now, he held Darby, rubbing circles on her back with care. She still held on to him as if letting go would mean losing him. But eventually, they broke apart after a few more heartbeats, still catching their breath from the storm of emotion and the sheer relief of their reunion. But the silence roamed the area.
Darby's arms fell from around Skye, and slowly, both of them turned to find everyone staring at them. Not just glancing, not just looking. Staring. The entire crew of the Hundred-Acre Wood had arrived in the clearing: Pooh, Piglet, Tigger, Lumpy, Roo, Mama Heffalump, a limping Papa Heffalump, Eeyore, Rabbit, Owl... every one of them. And they looked speechless. Mouths slightly open, eyes wide, utterly stunned. Owl? More or less.
Darby's brow furrowed, cheeks still warm from hugging Skye so tightly. "Guys... seriously?" She asked, looking at their stunned faces. "This isn't exactly the moment for staring."
Tigger stepped forward, bouncing a little less energetically than usual. In fact, he wasn't bouncing at all! That was the first strange thing. He lifted a finger, eyes narrowed, but not hostile. Not exactly. "Eh, no offense, Darbbuddy," he said slowly, his voice carrying a rare seriousness, "but it's not the hugging that's got everyone lookin' like they just saw Eeyore win a dance... It's the bigger heffalump in the roomie that needs to be addressed."
Darby blinked, about to respond, when she froze. Her body tensed as the memory came back. The blast, the fog, the impossible force behind it. The way the ground had trembled beneath them was like thunder from a distant war. Her eyes widened, and she turned, snapping her head toward Skye. He was already bracing for it. He just stood there, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze awkwardly avoiding everyone else's. His face was flushed. But not of fear, but of shame. He knew, and now they all knew. The truth, or at least a piece of it, had come out. They had seen what he did. Felt the energy that burst from him like a sun cracking through the forest. The wave of force had thrown not just branches and trees but illusions, fear, and perhaps... the lies he'd built around himself.
Because no ordinary traveler from space could do what he just did. Not without power.
Not without something more.
Darby took a step back, stunned. "Skye... what are you?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. Pooh looked between them with gentle, yet confused eyes. Piglet trembled beside him. Roo stayed low in Kanga's pouch. Owl, however, had a look that probably said, You and I knew this was coming. Because the boy in question had told him everything. And in that moment, everything slowed for Skye. His heart thudded once. Hard. he could lie, brush it off, say it was a malfunction, a weapon, a trick of the atmosphere. But what good would that do now? They had seen the truth. Not the whole truth, but enough. His shoulders rose as he inhaled deeply. Then exhaled. He looked up at Darby, then at the others. His face said it all.
'I've gotta come clean.'
A/N:
To my AO3 folks, I am SO SORRY for this delayed chapter. Things got me IRl that I had to take care of, but it's finally here.
Regarding Master Plo, I think, in truth, he'd probably be proud of Skye. Though a devoted follower of the code, not as big as Obi-Wan, I think Master Plo would be happy.
Also, the image at the top is the key to deciphering the image in Chapter 4. However, by now, I'm pretty sure you guys would've figured out who finally made his introduction through one scene alone, that is, if the soundtrack accompanying said scene didn't spoil it for you already. Or if you already figured out who it was in Chapter 4.
And Skye's gonna have some big questions to answer...
Teresa Butler (Guest) on Chapter 1 Fri 27 Jun 2025 11:34PM UTC
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GameofPanther on Chapter 2 Sun 29 Jun 2025 01:47PM UTC
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AsheMaTashe (Moocifer0715) (Guest) on Chapter 5 Sat 09 Aug 2025 12:52AM UTC
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