Kit Fisto stood in the ruins of this small twi'lek town. Bodies of men, women, toddlers and teens littered the street. The loss of so many was overwhelming. The bounty hunters had done their job well. He spared a passing glance for the dead, and in silence began to pace back to his Starfighter, the screaming souls ringing in his mind in this eerily silent town. It was obvious that a small scale holocaust had taken place here.

Even as he trudged back to the outskirts, the smell of blood was strong and the evening seemed colder than normal on Ryloth. Death was rife, and those that hadn't already died were dying. The loss of such strong force signature pained him, and the chill of icy midnight wind didn't help the headache it had induced. The transmat message he was required to send would be unnecessary, but he would send it anyway. But as he took the last few steps towards his Delta 7 Starfighter, he paused; a faint cry in the wind stopped him. He turned back to the path he had just paced, and a young green-skinned twi'lek woman reached out to him with her left arm desperately, her right appearing to cradle something. An infant, Kit Fisto realised as he subconsciously stepped towards her, and a small ray of hope echoed from the Rutian baby girl.

"Please, Master Jedi, take her." The woman gasped, holding the infant out to him.

Kit Fisto frowned as he ran the fingers of his right hand over the infant's forehead. The eyelids of the baby flicked in response and he saw her eyes for the first time; a beautiful light grey, and they looked up at him through blinking eyelids, blinking out the sand as the evening wind blew it in, her grey eyes watering from it. Kit Fisto cast his black coal eyes back to the apparent mother, who smiled faintly, knowing her baby would live.

"Her name is Tama," she spoke softly, "Tama Tolnata."

Her sea green eyes held the knowledge that she knew she would not last much longer, and a certain plea to the Jedi Master that he could not ignore. Kit Fisto quickly placed the infant safely beneath the brown robe he wore, before glancing back at the mother. In those few fragile moments he had turned his face from her, the infant's mother had breathed her last. Kit Fisto placed a soft, cold hand over her wrist, before turning away and getting up, his grip strengthening over the baby girl her now held care over, before finally pacing away from the mother's corpse, clambering into the Starfighter and taking a proper look at her. The little scrap he held in his hands wouldn't last the night, or so the odds would say, if there were any bets on her survival. But as he held the baby in his hands, he felt a faint trace reaching out to him. He realised it was the force, and then realised that it was coming from the baby. She was so weak that it was affecting the strength of her force-call. Kit self-consciously stroked one lek, and little Tama gave a slightly unsure glance to him. She couldn't have learned to talk yet; she must have been too young as she only looked about three months old. At the same time though, she didn't seem to have the need. She looked out of the window of the Starfighter and placed a pudgy blue hand on the window, her grey eyes still tearful, but not from the sand now. She seemed to sense that she was leaving her home and might never come back, and so kept looking at her mother, a corpse in the sand, and her young eyes never diverted from the body. She burbled, breathing on the glass. She turned back to Kit Fisto, but all that he could offer was sympathy. How did you tell a baby that their mother was dead? All the same, the Baby Tama seemed to realise what message his eyes held and fell backwards wailing, burying herself in the rough brown robe. Kit was surprised by this action, but warily wrapped an arm around her and stroked the back of her shoulder with his thumb.

"I'm tellin' ya fishy, the kiddie won't last the night. Ya might as well save ya credits and go buy a drink with it."

Kit Fisto was attempting to purchase something to feed the baby girl he had picked up earlier tonight, but the Lethan twi'lek seemed unwilling to allow him to attempt to let the child survive. Kit was about to calmly negotiate some more, but then an orange-skinned female came up behind her apparent husband and exclaimed,

"Jip! Why are you not allowing the man to purchase feed for the infant? The babe is starving… what are you thinking?"

The lethan male named Jip looked tired as he turned to his wife, sighing,

"Nita, please…"

The female turned to Kit and spoke more softly,

"I'm sorry for my husband's atrocious behaviour. It's 20 galactic credits for that measure of formula, and another 15 for the feeder."

Kit nodded and produced the required credits and the woman then asked,

"Where's the infant from, anyway? I take it she's not yours, seeing as…"

"No, no. I rescued her from the ruins of Mular earlier, with her being an orphan at a guess, and her force sensitivity…"

Jip's eyes widened at the town's name.

"What-what happened in Mular?"

Nita took Jip's hand and squeezed it, explaining,

"Jip's brother lives in Mular. What happened there?"

Kit sighed.

"There was an attack from bounty hunters. The whole town is in ruins. She was the only survivor I found, other than the mother, who died moments later. I'm sorry, but I don't know if anyone else…" Kit broke off, watching as Jip sank into a chair, head resting in his hands.

"My brother only recently had a baby girl," Jip sighed, "And now I bet the whole family's dead. His son… wife… all of them. They'll be dead. Gone…" he sighed sadly. Then he suddenly sat bolt upright, demanding,

"Let me see that baby."

Kit relaxed his arms and let Jip see the baby's face, and Jip gasped.

"That's Rif's baby." He said quietly, "That's my niece."

Kit turned his head and faced Jip.

"Would you rather care for her yourself then?" he asked quietly, "The jedi are not baby thieves."

Jip then shook his head vigorously.

"No." he said firmly, "Rif would have wanted her trained if he'd known she had Jedi ability."

Kit nodded appreciatively.

"The jedi will take care of her." Kit responded quietly.

He turned to leave, but Jip then stopped him.

"Let her keep this," He requested quickly, and placed a long, teardrop shaped pendant around her neck.

Kit looked at it for a moment, and then nodded.

"It belonged to her late grandmother," he explained, "She'd had liked to have thought that her later generations still had it."

Kit then gave one last nod, and left. Jip and Nita remained by the door, watching their niece leave.

"You'll be great, Tama," he sighed softly, "You are as your name says: born survivor."