A/N: Okay, if you've come to this story for an enjoyable story, full of rib-hugging humor or dark bittersweet angst, um... you need a different story. This is a practice story for me... actually, a series of practice stories, to practice and eventually get better at the parts of writing I suck at. Please, if you have any compassion whatsoever, read this and tell me what you think... I only write this particular story for practice and reviews, so that I can improve my writing style. Oh, and if you've read any of my other fics (there is only one other Star Wars fic, but I've been working on some DBZ ones...) and you have a suggestion I need to improve on, please let me know. I'm a toddler learning to walk here... it's gonna be unsteady, but I know how to take criticism, so please don't be afraid to dish it out.

I do not own Star Wars.

Chapter 1: Setting.

The mist permeated everything... from his clothes, the dead leaves and detritus he was sitting on, to the very air he breathed. The smell of earth and water mixed together smelled clean despite the age of this place, mostly untouched by sentient beings. Layers and layers of dead leaves and twigs, mud and other things Luke didn't want to think about, made the ground beneath him soft and almost cushiony. His clothes were too soaked for him to mind the wetness of it all... he had long since become used to never being dry. Even for someone from a planet covered with dry, grating sand, this gray, dismal place had become common enough to be comfortable.

With a glance, Luke regarded his master, the short green Jedi Master he had travelled all this way to learn from. The aged Jedi leaned on his small walking stick, which only pressed slightly into the soft ground he was standing on. Threadbare robes adorned the wizened master, and Luke wondered what they had looked like when Yoda had first come to this planet wearing them, as it was obvious he hadn't worn anything else since then. Much like Ben Kenobi was considered to be a crazy old hermit, Yoda actually was one... at least, to anyone else, it would seem so. Even to Luke, at first. Only a look into the creature's eyes would tell you otherwise... the ageless wisdom the being possessed could be seen there, centuries of joy and grief, of watching history unfold itself, repeat itself. Luke couldn't imagine what it would be like to know all that Yoda knew.

Breathing in the wet, misty air, the sounds of dripping and rustling and sploshing that he could now only hear if he tried to, mixed with the sound of air going into his lungs, the sound of his heart pumping blood the same way this place pumped life. That life was all around him, a warmth despite the chill of the wet atmosphere, pulsing and throbbing, humming, even in the air that rushed into his chest as he breathed. It was around him, inside him, and as he breathed out, his warm breath mixed its own moisture with the moisture already in the air, and Luke got the distinct impression that he was a part of this place. He contributed to the pulse, the hum, the sound of his breathing intertwined with the sound of the leaves rustling, his heart beating time with the dripping of water off the branch that hung over the nearest pool. The sound of his movements didn't mask the movements of the snake sliding down the bark of the tree... it mirrored them, made the whole effect a little louder, a little more vibrant, as though his sounds were needed to make the symphony around him complete.

He wondered, then, and his glance at Master Yoda proved he had come upon a grain of truth in his musings as the Jedi Master's eyes glinted knowingly before looking away. Luke was a part of it... he was like the snake in the tree, the water dripping into the pond... he was one of the sounds and sights of Degobah, new perhaps, temporary perhaps, but connected all the same. He was supposed to be here... he was part of the scenery.

A/N: Okay, what did you think? I know what I think... I made it cerebral. I tried not to, but I picked the wrong scene to just talk about scenery, because I put people in it. Maybe I should try another chapter that has no people in it, so I will be forced to talk about the sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and feel of a place, instead of talking about what a character thinks about it. Writing this was hard at first, but once I got inside Luke's head it became easy, almost too easy... I definitely need to write a chapter with no one's head to get into. Maybe then I will be able to write a chapter about people, from an omniscient point of view. I'm open to suggestions.