Rancors. The Hutts have sent rancors to kill us.

The beasts are armored from head to toe, a Gamorrean bouncing on each saddle. But that’s not all. There are Nikto running at their feet, firing blaster rifles indiscriminately. The bolts slam into the few buildings the rancors miss, and there, in the middle of the small army, is the Hutt commander himself, his bloated, slimy body squeezed into armor and propped up on a battle platform that scuttles along on mechanical spider legs. The Hutt was riding that dreadful contraption the day he burned the govath, and his vile little hands are once again gripping the flamethrower. He yanks back on the weapon and a stream of burning gas erupts from the cannon’s mouth, streaming over Hoi’s head.

“Get down,” I scream as I throw myself to the ground, the fur on my neck singeing as the flames shoot overhead. I look up and am relieved that Hoi is down on the ground in front of me, not that he’s out of danger. All it would take is one shot. . . .

I scramble forward, calling his name. This is our fault. It has to be. The Hutt discovered the broken droid, discovered the missing food, and has come to take his revenge. I think of all the Enami in the hall, think of Mira’s son. They’re going to die because of us, because of what we did.

Tears are pouring down Hoi’s face as I reach him in the clearing at the edge of the village, where we used to play as children. He looks so small, like the baby brother he once was.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers, scared out of his wits. “There are too many of them. Too many.”

“I’ve got you,” I say, pulling him close to me, turning my back on the Hutt.

“I love you, Brother.” “I love you, too.”

Flame spews from the cannon, but we don’t burn. I feel the heat of the fire but only as it passes harmlessly above us.

I look around and gasp. The Hutt is hanging in the air, meters from the ground. The platform’s legs whir, and the Hutt gargles as a figure is silhouetted against the moon. She stands there, robes billowing, a green lightsaber in one hand, the other raised toward the helpless slug. She stares up at the warlord, long braids whipping around her face, her brown skin smooth and her eyes bright. Then she looks down at us and, despite the obvious effort, smiles.

“Hi. I’ll be right with you.”

With a sweep of her arm, she sends the Hutt flying across the village. The platform slams into the ground, mechanical legs snapping as the flamethrower’s tank ruptures. A ball of fire blossoms, only to be extinguished by another wave of the woman’s hand.

Star Wars The High Republic Tales of Light and Life "Light in the Darkness"