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Greeata Jendowanian, by @Star_Wars_Legends_Illustrated
Quiet nights on the Kuari Princess were special. The calm atmosphere inspired our band to play slower music, helping the last guests unwind and enjoy the peace. At that time, I didn’t sing live. My lips were married to the Kloo horn, and I wanted the galaxy to remember my sound. Playing the Kloo horn let me think deeply, tune out the world, let my hands work, and reflect on my problems.
Looking back, I realize I spent much of my life on the edge of “civilized” society. Born and raised on Rodia, I learned the hard truths of the galaxy as part of my education—essential for aspiring bounty hunters or anyone wanting to use their skills as a key member of a powerful organization. To succeed in such an unpredictable galaxy, I had to be ready for anything.
Often, during performances, my mind would drift back to my past on Rodia. That’s why so many of my older songs focus on that harsh, difficult planet. Certain ideas persist in my mind, becoming vivid images I must express through song. On this particular night, though, my thoughts turned from my home world to a recent experience that filled me with fear and anxiety. Something terrible was going to happen to me.
Shadows hid on the Kuari Princess, waiting for the moment to seize me, drag me into darkness, and leave my fate uncertain with those who wished me harm. Visions of death replayed, each grimmer than the last, not fading even after every song I wrote about that dread. This fear was rooted in the threat from the most dangerous man I’d crossed: Prince Xizor.
His presence loomed over me, making it hard to shake off the sense of dread that followed me everywhere I went. I was trapped in a nightmare, with each note I wrote and lyric I sang reminding me of the danger that still lingered.
That bastard is dead now, so younger people today might not be familiar with who he was, but he was truly a monster. When he wanted something, he’d go to the ends of the galaxy to get it. He had set his eyes on my friend, Rystáll Sant, at the Galaxies Opera House. We were supposed to see Squid Lake together, but when I arrived, she was completely lost in the thoughts of the future Prince. His dangerous pheromones messed with her mind; I was sure of it. I’d heard enough whispers to know he was bad news. I couldn’t let him manipulate her like that, not my friend.
She managed to snap out of the trance with me by her side, but by doing that, I robbed Xizor of his prize. The relief at saving my friend was quickly overrun by a surge of anxiety—was she truly safe, or was it just an illusion? My thoughts clouded with self-preservation, shame mixing with my fear, and so “Prey at Night” was born—haunted by the certainty that Xizor would retaliate, unleashing bounty hunters, cutthroats, or something far worse. Fear wormed its way into every waking moment, making danger feel inescapable and ever-present.
My mind replayed nightmare after nightmare: What would happen the moment those faceless hunters arrived? The fear pressed closer each day. I questioned if I stood a chance against anything, let alone a shadow from Black Sun.
A few days had passed, and I hadn’t seen any stalkers or strange people watching me. Sy Snootles, who was in the Kuari Princess band with me, tried to help me calm down and think straight. She told me that, even though Xizor had an extremely obsessive personality, he didn’t go after everyone who made him angry. She insisted he’d already forgotten about me.
Maybe it was ego or imagination, but I ignored her advice. That night, I saw someone at the bar give me a disgusted look each time I glanced over. He was the smallest human I’d ever seen, several decades old. Sy kept saying he was just a grumpy drunk.
After the band finished our last set, I quickly stuffed my Kloo horn into its case so I could leave quickly. But the small human kept watching, his eyes fixed on my every move. I felt uneasy.
“Honey, you have to calm down,” Sy said as she grabbed my shoulders and massaged them gently. “No one is after you. You’re just imagining things.”
Her reassurance fell on deaf ears. The unease I felt only intensified as I tried to push away the doubt, yet the sense that something was wrong with that man lingered stubbornly. Her words, meant to soothe, instead sharpened the edges of my fear.
“I’ll be fine once I’m in my room.” I was speaking more to myself than to Sy. “And I know Xizor’s just waiting for the right chance to strike, so please stop trying to convince me otherwise.”
Throughout all of this, my friend remained patient with me. My paranoia was driving the other members of our band a little crazy, but Sy stuck with me through my outbursts. She never stopped trying to help me feel better. “Tell you what,” she began with a smile. “I’ll come by your room later and keep watch. Because, dear, you look just like my last boyfriend.”
That boyfriend had been found crushed beneath a bantha under mysterious circumstances. Comparing me to him wasn’t exactly unfair, but if you’d seen the photos of that poor guy, you’d be offended, too. Still, Sy was determined to protect me, so I felt some sense of relief knowing someone like her had my back. She understood my fears and wanted me to feel safe.
“You’d really do that?” I asked, surprised and grateful at the same time.
“Of course, baby, anything to avoid hearing you sound the way you did tonight,” she chuckled, and I couldn’t help but laugh a little, too.
As I walked off the stage, my instrument securely locked in its carrying case, the short human at the bar spat right on my foot. His eyes, a striking shade of blue, seemed to stare right through me. “If you Rodians are gonna live in civilized space, the least you can do is bathe like everyone else.”
There was no reason to respond to his rude comment. I’d heard those exact words hundreds of times before. I was wearing my bracelets, so he couldn’t catch my pheromones. No, this man simply hated Rodians and wanted everyone to know it. Even far from the Core Worlds, there were still xenocentric bigots like him.
Relief spread through me as I walked out of the cantina, recognizing the short human as just another bigot. The certainty was calming—a wave of relief after the storm of paranoia. Narrow-minded simpletons who were all talk, I could handle just fine.
The Kuari Princess was built to accommodate thousands of guests, so it loomed over me, cavernous and imposing. My paranoia was at an all-time high as each step echoed my dread. I imagined Xizor’s employees lurking behind every door, their presence palpable in every quiet breath. The long hallways and common areas became traps for my nerves. Eyes were always on me, unseen but relentless. I should’ve waited for Sy to guide me instead of wandering alone.
It's not like I was incapable of taking care of myself. Growing up on Rodia taught me the importance of self-defense, so I learned to fight and survive in some of the most dangerous places. I could hold my own in a tough situation, but I was getting in my own way. My mind was too busy worrying about my hypothetical, doomed fate to walk through the halls of the star cruiser at night without fear. My anxiety was holding me back.
The common area leading into my room's hallway featured a huge statue of an ancient, folkloric hero. Surrounding it were plants from Onderon, I think. The statue depicted a human woman draped in ornate robes. In one hand, she held a spear, and in the other, she held the head of a Gorax. There was a placard that told the story.
According to the legend, she sought creatures from all corners of the galaxy to hunt. To prove her devotion to the mission, she gave up all of her non-essential possessions before her gods. Eventually, her journey took her to the forest moon of Endor, where she faced a gigantic Gorax.
When all her attempts to defeat the Gorax failed, she prayed to her gods for help. Because they were pleased with her strong faith, the gods rewarded her with the size necessary to fight the behemoth. After successfully completing her toughest hunt yet, she spread her influence and seed to create her own tribe.
So, if the legend was true, it meant there were descendants of this giant continuing her mission to hunt. A fun story, one I didn’t believe at the time.
An Ithorian stood at the base of the statue, mesmerized by what he was looking at. I tried to sneak past him quietly, moving with the elegance of a Jedi, but he suddenly turned his head in my direction, as if he sensed my presence.
“You’re Greeata Jenowanian, right?” he asked, his voice echoing steady.
“H-how do you know my name?”
“I saw the band earlier,” he said calmly. “You really know how to blow that Fizzz.”
“Kloo horn,” I corrected him, trying to keep my voice steady.
“If you say so,” he shrugged, not sounding convinced. Then, he reached out with his large hand toward me. I took his hand nervously, unsure of what to expect. “The name’s Velm,” he said with a friendly smile.
“Well, uh, I should probably go. You can’t play the Kloo horn well without getting a good night’s sleep, right?” I said, trying to excuse myself.
“Yeah, I think I can help with that,” he replied with a grin. Suddenly, he threw a fist toward me, and, thanks to my quick reflexes, I grabbed his wrist and used his motion to flip him over.
“Cren never mentioned this,” he wheezed.
In hindsight, I find it funny just how quickly the power dynamic shifted, but in that moment, my fear still overrode all else.
Despite the attempt to harm me, I felt a sense of vindication. Whoever Velm was, he was sent by Xizor to “take care” of me. I was right all along. This also meant that Xizor really was enacting revenge. I needed to talk to Sy to strategize what to do next. So, I slammed Velm’s head against the hard metal floor and ran to my room.
After double-locking my door, I went for my blaster, which I kept in one of the lower cabinets. But just then, I noticed an eye-patch-wearing Devaronian lying on my bed, hungrily staring at me. The room was small, and with a blaster aimed right at me, I couldn’t just rush for the door, especially since it was locked tight.
“I had a feeling ol’ Velm would fail,” she said before licking her lips in a way that made my skin crawl. “Have a seat.”
With no other option available, I sat down. Sy was on her way, so if I could buy her some time and stall the Devaronian woman long enough, my chances of escaping would be better.
“I knew you people were watching me.”
“Not a lot of good that did you, right?”
“Where will you take me?” I demanded, trying to sound brave.
“Who said you were going anywhere?” she replied with a smirk.
I pointed to her blaster, which was still aimed at me. “You would’ve shot me already if you really wanted me dead.”
She chuckled softly, making me nervous. “Maybe I wanted to see you up close,” she said sensually. “You know just the right way to blow that horn. But, I’ll admit, you’re wasting that beautiful voice of yours.” She pointed her blaster at my HoloNet station. “You’ve posted some great songs there.”
Out of all the criminals Prince Xizor, the notorious crime lord, could’ve sent after me, why did it have to be a deranged fan of mine? Only later, with the benefit of hindsight, did I understand the cruel irony of my situation.
“I was honored you wrote about my partners and me in your latest song,” she continued, her tone surprisingly genuine.
It was sickening to think that Xizor’s hired goons found enjoyment in my method of coping with life. Had I known I’d come face-to-face with the very monsters my song was about, I never would’ve uploaded it to the HoloNet. I unwittingly gave this woman a sort of twisted fame, vindicating her terrible life choices. It was like I immortalized her, so many of us long for but never achieve.
As I stood there, I felt the weight of my decision pressing down on me. What I thought was a way to express myself made my nightmare even worse.
“Want an autograph?” I asked snidely.
“Later,” she admitted. “I’ve got one of my guys keeping Sy Snoodles busy at the bar, but I don’t think that’ll last forever. Call me Cren.”
Before I could fully realize no one was coming to help me, she shot me with a stun blast. Suddenly, everything went dark. It's going to sound strange, but that was the best sleep I’d had since the Opera House. Sure, getting knocked out forced my mind to shut down and rest, but I also think that because Xizor’s thugs finally revealed themselves, it helped put my mind at ease. At least I knew something bad was going to happen. It was better than being stuck in constant worry about the unknown.
I must’ve been out for several hours because when I finally opened my eyes, I found myself on the bridge of a ship, speeding through hyperspace.
There were four people on the bridge with me. Three of them were familiar faces from the Kuari Princess. They were watching me closely, interested in how I’d respond to the situation. My heart was beating fast. The first thing my body did was throw my arms outward, but they were stuck in stuncuffs that chafed against my skin. I wasn’t tied down to my seat in any way, but as soon as I tried to stand up, a rough hand pushed me back down and held me there. “I-I can pay you whatever you want,” I said, feeling weak and desperate.
In one of the pilot’s seats was Velm. His head was wrapped up in bandages, and he was not happy about me being there. “Did our guest enjoy her nap?” he said with a sneer.
Across from me stood the short human from the bar. I never bothered to remember his name, so I’ll just call him Shorty from now on. His nose was scrunched up, which I knew meant his nose was recoiling in disgust. Since my bracelets were still on my wrists, he must’ve wanted to get a reaction out of me. I ignored him.
Cren was next to me, rubbing my shoulders slowly. She made sure to feel every bump and knot in my muscles. “She must’ve. I’ve never seen anyone sleep so deeply before,” she said with a smirk, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
Velm chuckled loudly. “She could grace us with a song before we hand her over. Haven’t we all been dying to hear why the boss man wants her so much?” His voice dripped with a teasing sweetness that drives me insane when I think back on it. He was just waiting for the chance to get back at me for humiliating him as I did. Strange how that happened twice in just a few days.
“Oh, give it a rest, Velm,” scoffed Shorty. “Rodians can’t sing. Not with those big, bulging snouts.”
“I can’t wait to hear the song you’re going to write about this,” Cren whispered in my ear. She would’ve loved “Call of the Huntress,” but I’m getting a bit ahead of myself.
“Where are you taking me?!” I shouted, desperate for answers.
The other pilot turned in his seat to look at me. He was an Ithorian as well, but he was very different from his co-pilot. He was quiet, speaking only when necessary. From the way he carried himself, I correctly surmised he was the captain of the crew.
“Manpha,” he said. “My buddy has a nice little setup for slave trading there.” His tone was casual, but his words sent a chill down my spine. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
I sank deeper into my seat, wishing I could vanish completely. There were many criticisms you could levy against the Galactic Republic at the time, but at least its stance on slavery was the correct one. Now, Xizor’s plan was finally happening. Just killing me wasn’t enough for him. Instead, he wanted to hand me over to the slavers, knowing that with enough time, the galaxy would forget I existed. My voice, as Velm had pointed out, was a selling point for their boss. That meant I was a valuable prize, so I was probably safe from any serious physical harm.
Even now, I still can’t figure out how I didn’t fall into a deep depression from all the stress and fear that week had caused. I was barely getting over the fear of being stalked, and now my creative passion was mocked and twisted. I wondered if I would ever be able to write and perform another original song in my new position. Whoever ended up buying me would make me write a song for him, ruining the very thing that gave my life meaning.
I smacked my head against the seat, feeling my anxiety finally erupt in a wave of deep sadness. I could hear the laughter around me, but it didn’t matter. I’d end my life before becoming someone’s slave,
The ship suddenly came out of hyperspace, and before me was Manpha. The planet was unique because it only had one continent. It looked nothing like my home planet, but in my mind, I still imagined Rodia as if I’d never left.
“Welcome to your temporary home,” the captain said, his deep voice echoing across the bridge. “My friend told me that you’ll be singing until your very last breath.” His words sent another chill down my spine.
As the ship began to descend, it cut through the humid air of the planet. Manpha lacked the thick, green jungles of Rodia that I was so familiar with. We passed by hundreds of thousands of small villages, none of whom were aware of my plight, which made me more uneasy. We flew over several factors and small villages, and soon our destination came into view. A huge building located within one of the only forests in sight; dark and mysterious, just like home. There were no signs or markings to tell me what it was, but I recognized it instantly. This place had once belonged to the CIS, and probably abandoned early in the Clone Wars, left to decay in the swamp.
“Velm, tell Tel’a that the cargo is secure, and we need permission to land,” the captain ordered firmly.
“The sooner we get rid of this slimy reptile, the better.” Shorty spat, his eyes glaring at me with clear disgust.
Velm hesitated for a moment, glancing nervously at the captain. “Uh, Gred? No one’s responding,” he said, his voice shaky.
The captain, Gred, swatted Velm’s hand away as if he thought that would magically fix everything, but all he got in return was cold silence. A flicker of worry crossed his usually stoic face.
“A-anyone else got a bad feeling about this?” Velm asked, his earlier bravado slipping away. “Wait, now someone’s trying to contact us!”
A holographic image of a human woman suddenly flickered to life on the central console, a figure none of my kidnappers seemed to personally recognize.
“Nightsister,” Cren grasped upon seeing the woman’s facial tattoos.
“Why the Hell is that cult here?” Shorty questioned.
I stayed quiet, but I knew who that Nightsister was. Ros Lai, a woman who’d denounced that part of her identity to carve her own place in the galaxy. I’d read her memoir when it was first uploaded on the HoloNet several years before the Clone Wars. That account of her life taught me about Dathomir and the various witch clans that claimed it as their own. Her story inspired “The Witch,” one of my earliest songs. I’d even heard she helped the Republic stop a Separatist alliance with the Nightsisters, so it felt like she was my only chance to escape this situation.
“Who are you?” Gred demanded, his voice full of anger and frustration as it bounced off the walls around us.
Ros Lai eyed each one of us, her gaze lingering on me. She seemed particularly interested in me, likely because I was in stuncuffs and clearly not meant to be there. “I needed information, and the trail led me here,” she said calmly. As she moved slightly, she revealed a human man lying on the floor next to her. He was completely still, his neck crushed. “He is now one with the Force.”
“Tel’a…” Gred’s voice took on an uncharacteristically sad tone. When Ros Lai kicked the dead body out of view with her bare foot, Gred looked ready to smash the console in front of him to scrap. “Who are you working for?” he demanded, his anger bubbling over.
“Myself,” she said calmly, as if it were the simplest answer in the galaxy. “With a little help from some hunters who needed fresh meat.”
The way she emphasized the word “meat” worried me, but I was desperate for help. I felt a surge of hope and pushed past Cren, my heart racing. “Please, help me,” I pleaded, trying to explain my predicament. “They kidnapped me and—” But before I could finish my sentence, Cren shoved me back into my seat. A sharp blow to my gut made me gasp and silenced me for a moment.
Ros Lai took a deep breath and sighed, her expression softening a little. “Try to stay calm,” she advised in a soothing voice, almost like a whisper. “I will do what I can to help you.”
“We’ll be back,” Gred warned. But Ros Lai remained unfazed. She turned her head slightly away and nodded to someone hidden from view, as if she was signaling for something.
A bright and blinding light beam struck one of the wings of the ship, turning it into smoldering pieces of metal. The sudden force hurled us forward, with Gred trying to take control of the ship, but deep down, we all knew the crash was coming. There was nothing we could do to stop the inevitable.
“You should never have come here,” said Ros Lai in a foreboding tone before her hologram flickered and disappeared.
“I’m gonna end her,” Cren growled angrily. “Brace yourselves!”
The ship smashed through several trees before plunging into the dark water, finally coming to a stop. We were close to the facility, so the hunters Ros Lai had warned us about could arrive at any moment. Gred and his crew needed to act fast, despite having no idea of what dangers lay ahead. Plus, we couldn’t fortify the ship since it was slowly sinking deeper into the water.
“I told you all we should’ve kidnapped her sooner,” Velm said, his voice shaking with fear. “We could’ve avoided this if you’d just listened to—” But before he could finish, Gred slapped him hard to silence him.
“Everyone, grab whatever supplies you can carry and get moving,” Gred ordered before pointing to me. “Cren, make sure she doesn’t try to run away. We might need to use her as a hostage.”
“Great,” Shorty muttered bitterly. “I’ve been stuck around this Rodian for days now. I lost my ship, and some crazy Dathomirian group wants us dead. Am I missing anything?”
Yeah, I thought to myself. The only thing missing is that today will be your last day alive.
The five of us pushed through the wet, damp ground after getting out of the murky waters. As we moved deeper into the thick forest, it felt like it was closing in on us. Gred, to give him some credit, was leading the group through the swamp with his blaster at the ready. He kept his eyes on the path ahead, determined to get his crew out of harm’s way.
Right behind him were Cren and me. Even though I was tied up and had nowhere to go, Cren held on tightly to my shoulder. If her other hand wasn’t preoccupied with a blaster, she probably would’ve kept both hands busy holding on to me instead. I could feel her nervousness. She occasionally glanced around, making sure no one was sneaking up on us.
Velm and Shorty were bringing up the rear like cowards, struggling to keep up. In Shorty’s defense, being so small was a problem in this tough situation. The brush was thick, and he often tripped over exposed roots. Velm, on the other hand, was no longer trying to act tough. He was shaking like a newborn baby and needed constant reminders from Shorty to keep his blaster aimed straight ahead.
The air was thick with tension, and my kidnappers were clearly on edge. Their eyes darted around, checking every possible spot where someone might be watching. It felt like my training on Rodia had kicked in full force because I’d never felt so calm in a situation like this. It was as if I were in my element. I realized that my emotional outburst earlier had somehow freed me from the heavy stress weighing me down. It didn’t matter if Xizor had sent these guys after me; my body was still working just fine, and I was determined to get off this planet by any means necessary. No matter what happened next, I wouldn’t do it as someone’s shackled captive.
Suddenly, I tripped over my own leg and stumbled, falling to the soft, mossy ground beneath me.
“I knew she was dead weight,” Shorty laughed as he and Velm walked past me, buying into my apparent clumsiness.
“Get up,” Cren ordered, her voice demanding, yet shaken.
“I— I think I twisted my ankle,” I complained. She let out a sigh as she bent down to take a closer look at my ankle. “I’m only into Rodian women,” I added, much to her confusion. Cren must just be a naturally unsettling being. “Just thought you should know that.”
Before she could figure out that my ankle was fine, I took my chance. My stuncuffs pulled tightly against her neck, and my hands quickly covered her mouth to stop her from screaming for help. It disgusted me to connect with her like that, in such an intimate position, and to enjoy it. I still hate myself for that. If that weren’t bad enough, I was now a killer out for blood. This freak had done to me in a few seconds what my father couldn’t do in two decades. She won in the end, if I were to be honest. To this day, I still remember how she felt struggling against my body.
That came to an end, though. Her body went completely limp, so I quickly reached into her breast pocket and fished out the key to my stuncuffs. After unlocking them, I grabbed her blaster and shot Shorty in the back with a feeling of pure satisfaction. The two Ithorians froze for a moment as their small friend dropped to the ground, dead.
“How…?” Velm asked as he turned around in shock.
“I grew up on Rodia,” I replied simply. “Doesn’t feel good when the tables are turned on you, does it?”
Gred stayed calm, which was creepy. I squeezed the trigger of my blaster, but all I heard was a hollow click. It was only then that I realized how light my blaster was; Cren must’ve forgotten to load, and Gred knew it.
“Poodoo,” I muttered under my breath and tossed the useless weapon toward them. Then, I took off running, with Velm on my tail.
“Velm, wait!” Gred shouted, clearly upset that his only surviving crewmate had chosen now to ignore his survival instincts. “Damnit!”
I was sure Gred would’ve kept going toward the safehouse, but now he had to focus on getting Velm to calm down. Together, they had a better chance at surviving. Alerting them to my escape cost me greatly.
Panic pushed me forward, making my heart race. I had no clear direction, just an urgent need to escape the blaster fire that whizzed around me. Maybe, just maybe, I could slip away from the Ithorians and the hunter and find a safe spot to hide in this disgusting, swampy hell. Growing up on Rodia, I knew survival was always possible if I played my cards right.
I pressed my back against the curve of a huge, moss-covered boulder. As I took a breath, I noticed two strange alien devices strung between two ancient trees. They were perfectly lined up with each other, clearly made to slice anyone who dared cross them in half. I instinctively dropped to the ground, crawling carefully beneath them to avoid getting hurt.
Just then, Velm came around the boulder, laughing when he saw me on my hands and knees. “No more running,” he sang with a taunting tone.
“I’m right here,” I said, trying to lure him closer. “I’m not scared of you scum anymore.”
“Velm, you idiot,” yelled Gred from a distance. “We don’t have time for this!”
“I’m not leaving this swamp until that Rodian pays for everything she’s done,” Velm shouted back defiantly.
Ignoring his captain’s urgent commands, Velm moved quickly toward me, heading straight for the two mysterious devices. In a split second, a beam, as thin as a needle and sharp as a razor, sliced through his long neck. His head spun twice before his lifeless body dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. He’d forgotten the most important rule when you have no fear: don’t act stupid. Now I was alone with Gred, who muttered a curse under his breath, frustrated by the turn of events.
“Help me!” A desperate cry sliced through the piercing silence.
“Cren?” Gred’s attention wavered. His eyes quickly moved toward the source of the cry. For a moment, he completely forgot I was even there. He was focused on finding his missing friend.
“Help me,” her voice rang out again, filled with a strain that made me think the hunter had caught her. It seemed like they were using her as bait to lure us into a trap.
“Do whatever you want, Rodian,” Gred said, his voice heavy with frustration. After years of surviving in the dark and dangerous parts of the galaxy, everything had led to this moment. His crew and his friends had been killed. The lucrative operation he’d been part of was lost. His entire world turned to ashes. With so much on his mind, it was no surprise that he made a mistake. A fatal one. He suddenly ran back the way he came, leaving me all alone. This was my perfect chance to escape. But how long would that chance last? I thought maybe if I let Gred spring the hunter’s trap, I could catch the hunter by surprise and turn the tables to my favor.
I quickly grabbed Velm’s blaster and a hidden knife in his vest, keeping a safe distance behind Gred. I stayed alert, watching and listening for any sign of the hunter.
Hanging tightly by a rope that was tied securely around a thick branch was Cren. She looked okay, but she was still stuck. “Get me down from here,” she ordered, her voice weaker than before.
“Show yourself!” Gred shouted into the shadows, demanding to see whoever had taken her.
I craned my neck and saw someone standing high up on a branch, watching the two criminals snared in his trap. It was a Twi’lek. His body was lightly covered in armor, while his robes hid the rest of him. His face was hidden behind a helmet that looked a lot like a Mandalorian’s. I noticed that his arm was pulled back, ready to throw a spear at Gred, aiming to pin him to the ground.
My family would’ve been proud of me for what I did next. I aimed and shot at the base of the branch, and with a loud crack, the branch broke, and the hunter fell into the water with a big splash.
“He was hiding up there in the branches,” I told Gred, who looked confused.
“You should’ve aimed for the head,” said Gred, sounding ungrateful. “Let’s make sure he doesn’t get back up.”
He started marching toward the water, looking closely at its shiny surface, but seemed scared to step into it. The hunter’s body should’ve floated to the top by now. But with my infrared sight, I noticed the hunter curled up in a fetal position, holding what could only be a spear.
“Gred, get back!” I shouted, feeling a rush of fear.
Suddenly, the spear shot up from the water and stabbed right into Gred’s stomach. The scream that followed didn't come from Gred but Cren. The hunter broke through the water, pushing Gred away from the shore.
Knowing that Gred was dead anyway, I shot him twice in the back; he let out a pitiful gasp. I turned to Cren, who had tears streaming down her cheeks, and I shot her once in the chest. At that moment, I realized my blaster’s power pack was officially empty, leaving me with just the knife.
“Those were my kills!” the hunter yelled angrily as he retracted his spear from Gred’s body. Blood dripped from the tip and onto his toes as he glared at me, his eyes full of rage.
“You weren’t the one they stalked and kidnapped.”
“So, you killed the others?” he demanded, his voice with accusation.
I threw my blaster aside, knowing I had to prepare for a fight. He charged at me, his spear leading the way. This was my chance. I listened to my instincts, and as he came closer, I pushed his spear to the side with all my strength. He stumbled just enough for me to stab him in the back with my knife. I quickly pulled the blade out, standing my ground and ready for whatever came next.
His wrist gauntlets, which I’d assumed were just armor, revealed their true purpose. From the left gauntlet, a pair of sharp, jagged blades sprang out. I was taken aback because only one person in the galaxy was known for using that kind of weapon. The Huntress of Halthor. But this wasn’t her. A copycat? A partner? If I survived the fight, I knew I’d have the makings for the best song of my independent career.
“Not bad…for a Rodian,” he mocked as he swung his wrist blades at me, trying to catch me off guard.
I kept my distance, ready to dodge. “One of the Ithorians was just like you. A tough exterior that was nothing more than a facade.” I could see his anger rising, so I had to keep talking to throw him off his game. “I’ve seen Rodian children with more grace than you.”
I grabbed his arm and flipped him onto his back, surprising him in more ways than one; my last insult must’ve cut him deep. I didn’t let go and twisted his arm until I heard the sickening sound of bones snapping. He screamed in pain and used his free arm to unsheathe a vibroblade from his gear. With a quick motion, he stabbed it deep into my leg, which forced me to release him.
He got back to his feet, extending the wrist blades on his other arm before removing his helmet. His face was marked with scars from past battles, and it showed pure hatred directed at me. If things weren’t personal before, they sure were now. He began swinging his blades wildly, trying to cut me anywhere he could. He’d completely lost any strategy he might’ve had. When I finally saw an opening, I threw the knife into his chest. I then kicked it deeper into him until the whole blade was concealed, and he was sent flying into the dark water behind him.
The fight was finally over. My body, still catching up with my mind, started to register just how tired I really was. I leaned heavily against a rough-barked tree, which felt like a temporary anchor I never wanted to leave. The tree was sturdy, giving me a moment’s rest. Then, I couldn’t help but laugh at everything the galaxy had thrown at me in just a handful of days.
Xizor had orchestrated this for a reason so trivial that even Jabba the Hutt would’ve laughed it off. He’d thrown me into a den of wolves, making a fierce, primal instinct come alive in me. I left Rodia to escape the fate my people had chosen for themselves, chasing after the arts and all the happiness they brought me. Thanks to Xizor’s actions, I not only had blood on my hands, but I’d made my father proud for the very first time in my life.
As I sank deeper into despair, I replayed the last few days repeatedly in my mind. I thought about the fear that gripped me, the acceptance of my new reality, the fight for survival, and the strength I had to keep going. I was crafting a song so visceral that it made my heart race again. My greatest song was crying out for me to bring it to life.
Just then, I heard two loud thuds behind me; I had completely forgotten that there were other hunters, according to Ros Lai. One of them was a Togruta, whose armor was like the Twi’lek’s, including the wrist gauntlets, but her outfit included ceremonial robes that reminded me of a Jedi uniform. Her helmet had openings for her head tails and montrals to stick out. Standing next to her was a person who took my breath away.
The Huntress of Halthor was even more intimidating than the security footage and photos had shown. I recalled the folk tale from the Kuari Princess, wondering if there was any truth to it, with the Huntress being the last descendant of that god-like hunter.
“I told you he wasn’t worthy,” the Togruta said in a calm voice. “No control over his emotions.”
“Are you the Rodian whom Ros Lai spoke to?” The Huntress asked me directly.
“Y-yes, I’m G-Greeata Jendowanian,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Please, just let me go.” My heart was racing as I waited for a response, hoping for mercy.
“We’re not going to kill you.” The Huntress spoke with a calm confidence that somehow made me feel both relieved and terrified. When I pointed to the Twi’lek, she shook her head firmly. “If he’d killed you, the consequences would’ve been severe.” Her words hung in the air like a dark cloud.
“You would’ve let it happen?” I asked, my voice trembling. I needed to understand what kind of person I was dealing with.
The Huntress strode past me, her presence almost overwhelming. She seemed to dismiss my question as if it were unimportant. Her towering figure made my already weak legs wobble, and I suddenly lost my balance, crashing down onto the damp ground. The coldness of Manpha sent a shiver through my body, and I felt utterly helpless again.
“You should be proud,” the Togruta said softly, her voice a gentle murmur meant for me. “You impressed the Huntress of Halthor, and that is no small feat.” Her compliment was unexpected, yet it offered me some hope in this dark moment.
“Master, please,” the Twi’lek rasped, his voice hoarse and strained. The fear in his eyes was palpable.
With a deliberate motion, the Huntress pressed his head beneath the murky water, using her bare foot as an anchor. I watched in horror, my breath caught in my throat, as his hands lashed desperately against her leg, fighting for a chance to breathe. His struggle was frantic, but it was clear he was losing. When the thrashing abruptly stopped, she nonchalantly heaved his body onto the land. The clear impression of her foot was left on his face.
The Huntress turned to me once more, and with a heavy sigh, she lifted her helmet. This revealed the hidden part of her face, and what I saw left me speechless. Half of her face was burned beyond recognition, yet there was an unexpected beauty in her grizzled features. It was a hauntingly unique look I’d never seen before, and oddly, it seemed to complete her. “Where did you learn to fight like that?” she asked, her tone curious.
“Rodia,” I replied, my voice shaky but determined. “But I’m much happier performing music.” I hoped sharing a piece of my life could somehow connect us, even in this grim situation.
“Shame, I would’ve gladly taken you on as another initiate.”
I smiled nervously, but I didn’t say anything else. I felt a mix of excitement and anxiety at her words.
“Skeena,” she said, looking at the Togruta. “Bring Jendowanian and our failed initiate to the ship. Make sure his body keeps working. I’ll be there soon.”
“Yes, Elder,” Skeena replied. She then stretched her hand, and the Twi’lek floated off the ground as if he were weightless.
“Y-you really are a Jedi,” I gasped in surprise, my eyes wide.
“Not anymore,” she said quietly. The trip back to the ship was completely silent, and honestly, that was just fine by me. My mind was racing with ideas and images I needed to turn into lyrics. I thought about starting to write them down once I got on the ship. But as soon as I lay down on the bed, I fell asleep almost instantly.
It was as if the moment my head hit the pillow, I was in a deep dream. I could still feel the buzz of excitement from earlier, but sleep quickly took over. I knew that when I woke up, I’d have a lot to think about and even more to create.
When I woke up, I found myself in the medical wing of the Kuari Princess. Sy was there waiting for me, and she quickly informed me that I’d been found in the hangar bay after being missing for a couple of days. At that moment, I felt a mix of relief and confusion. I didn’t know how to tell her the truth: that I’d been kidnapped by bounty hunters and later rescued by the Huntress of Halthor, of all people. But I decided to tell her the whole story.
She found it hard to believe at first, but from the security footage and my having no reason to lie, she eventually accepted what I said, at least most of it. The only part she couldn’t accept was Xizor’s involvement because it wasn’t his style. I could’ve argued with her about it, but honestly, I was too relieved that the horrifying ordeal was finally over to start that debate again. Besides, I realized that Xizor probably wouldn’t even think about me anymore since Gred would’ve contacted him right after the kidnapping was a success. Although I still felt some fear, it wasn’t as strong as before. I could finally think about moving on with my life.
After I was released from the hospital, I decided to record and upload “Call of the Wild,” my first song about the Huntress, but not the one I’m most known for. That wouldn’t come until years later, after Sy and I had joined Max Rebo’s band. Even though I’d long since moved past the pain Xizor caused me, my thoughts were now filled with worry about Rystáll.
Rystáll had been stalked and kidnapped by Xizor, and her parents had suffered the same fate. I felt the strong urge to act, to do something to help her, but I was left wondering what I could possibly do against a criminal empire as powerful as Black Sun.
Max Rebo’s band was right in the middle of a big tour, and we’d just finished our performance on Tatooine. To celebrate our show, we were enjoying ourselves at the Mos Eisley Cantina, a lively place filled with people I wouldn’t want to meet in person.
“Darling, you were amazing out there,” Sy said to me, smiling brightly. “Aren’t you going to have a real drink?”
I looked down at my cup, which only held some water. “I’m too dehydrated for alcohol,” I said, feeling a bit weak after the performance.
“Better get used to it,” she replied with a laugh. “Because we’ll be spending a lot of time here.” She meant it as a joke, but I wished she had taken my situation a little more seriously. The desert climate was tough, even for the people who lived on that rough, irritating planet. On a side note, how fitting was it that Tatooine was the place where Jabba the Hutt met his end recently?
Just then, a human waiter approached us. “Excuse me,” he said politely. “But someone wishes to see Greeata Jenowanian.”
“Sounds like you caught someone’s eye,” Sy teased with a playful grin.
“Who?” I asked, curiosity bubbling up inside me. I’d hoped it was a cute Rodian girl, as unlikely as it was.
The waiter pointed to a booth in the far corner of the cantina. “The Huntress of Halthor,” he said.
I suddenly coughed, accidentally spraying water all over the counter. What could the Huntress want with me? My heart raced as I realized that she might’ve been upset about “Call of the Wild” and could be there to have a one-sided conversation about it.
“Greeata, if you want to leave…” Sy started to suggest, but I quickly interrupted her.
“It’s fine,” I assured Sy, trying to sound calm. “Could you just stay and watch, please?”
“I’ll swoop in the second something happens,” she promised, her eyes sparkling with concern.
I took a deep breath as I got ready to face the Huntress. I had no idea what she wanted, but I’d hoped it wouldn’t turn out to be too serious. The atmosphere in the cantina was buzzing, and I could feel the eyes of some patrons on me as I approached the corner booth. What could the Huntress possibly want?
I smiled nervously and arrived at the booth. The first thing I noticed was the Huntress’s bare feet resting on the table, her legs taking up a lot of the table’s surface area. She waved for me to sit down. I did, but being so close to her feet made me really uncomfortable, especially after seeing her almost drown the Twi’lek with them. She must’ve noticed my unease because she started to scrunch and stretch her human toes right in front of me; an effective way of establishing dominance.
“Not much experience with human anatomy?” There was a hint of amusement in her voice.
“You, uh, you could say that…” I replied. That was when I understood she wanted me to pick up the conversation. She was inviting me to learn more about her. “Humans don’t usually go barefoot, so why do you?”
Her shoulders relaxed, which confirmed what I thought. “There was a time early in my life when I had to fight to survive with nothing on my back. I found that my feet connected better with the environment without boots, so I vowed never to cover them again. And between you and me, I enjoy feeling my prey squirm.”
Her feet were even bigger than my head, which made me curious about her height. I couldn’t help but ask, “How tall are you?”
“Two-and-a-half meters,” she said with a sense of pride. “I was the tallest girl in my village, and no one could beat me in a fight.”
I leaned forward, becoming more interested in where this meeting would lead. “Why did you decide to take on students?”
The Huntress’s helmet tilted up as she looked at the sand-colored ceiling above her. “It’s in a Mandalorian’s nature to want community and family. It’s very important to us, but after I lost my village to Death Watch, my connection to my people was severed. It wasn’t until the Clone Wars that I realized I could create my own community. I wanted to share my skills and knowledge so they could survive even after I’m gone.
“Skeena Maatr was a Jedi padawan who was disillusioned by the war, and she found a new purpose by joining me. Nuro Vao was a cold-blooded killer, but I made sure he changed his attitude after he lost to you. But since our last encounter, others have joined me.”
Hearing what happened to Nuro made me happier than I thought it should. After all, this guy had tried to kill me, so I thought it was fair to feel some joy from his struggles. But an important question popped into my mind. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Hard as it is to believe, I’m here because I liked your song.” My heart skipped a beat at her words. She chuckled softly. “You told your story beautifully.”
This meeting was now starting to make sense. “You want me to write another song.”
The Huntress nodded in agreement. “Now that I’ve built a community to keep my teachings alive, it’s time for my story to be remembered forever by future generations. I want you to write a ballad for me, and all I ask is that you tell my story honestly.”
“I…” She’d given me the chance of a lifetime, so naturally, I was going to say yes. But then I paused. There was something very important that I knew she could help me with. “I’ll agree, but only if you promise to rescue my friend from Prince Xizor and train me.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized how crazy I sounded. She wanted me to create a song, which would also help my career, while I was asking her to take on Black Sun on her own. If she’d laughed in my face, I wouldn’t have blamed her.
“This friend of yours, how close are they to the prince?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.
“She never leaves his side,” I admitted with a sigh. “He doesn’t let her.”
“It seems I’ve underestimated you again, Jendowanian,” she replied, showing genuine interest. “I’ll begin your training, and then my hunt, as soon as you listen to my story.”
“Then let’s get started,” I said eagerly. And that’s how “The Ballad of the Huntress” came into existence. Thankfully, Rystáll would be saved from Xizor years later, but that’s a different story for another time.