The battle was like none Obi-Wan had ever imagined. He felt no fear. He had accepted his death. The odds were just too great against him. Now he only fought to protect the Arconans. He felt no anger. He did not hate the hungry beasts that dropped endlessly from the blackened skies.
The Force was his ally.
He could feel it moving him, moving through him, and through the draigons. He leaped and somersaulted. He spun and slashed through muzzles and claws. The battle became a dance of sheer survival.
As he danced, Obi-Wan changed. He felt subtle promptings he’d never felt before. He saw attacks before they came. He sensed the flail of a tail before it happened. The muscles of the draigons seemed incredibly defined, so that he could read tiny flickers of movement that revealed which way a draigon would turn. Dead draigons piled on the ground around him. He gave himself entirely to the dance.