Jonta gazed down the moon-washed bluff. He did not like this. He glanced over. The rest of his hunting band was gathered around him, peering over the bluff at the female below. Jonta looked back at the small campsite. The moon-skinned female sat next to her fire, legs crossed, arms folded in front of her.
Jonta shook his head. It did not look right and, most of all, it did not feel right. Why would a female who was not of the People be out here alone on the Jundland Wastes? He signaled to his band and they crept back down the bluff away from the lone female. Once they were out of earshot, Jonta spoke.
"I say we leave the moon-skinned female alone and go our way."
"So, Jonta, you are a coward as well as old."
Jonta turned his head towards the one who had spoken. Kron was tall and strong and had been chafing under Jonta's leadership for some time. Hotheaded, even for a Tusken, Kron was the most eager to confront the strange female. Jonta looked at the other members of his band.
The youngest, Tekur, had only just passed his manhood trails. He was Kron's son. The remaining Tuskens were Foel and Aryk, who out of all of Jonta's band was the one he trusted completely. He and Aryk had been friends for many turns.
"You speak too fast as usual, Kron," Jonta said sharply, "your words outrunning what little of your brain you stoop to use."
Kron roared and advanced on Jonta, gaderffi stick raised above his head. Aryk stepped in front of him and blocked his path. Kron stared up at Aryk for a long moment. Then he slowly lowered his gaderffii stick and stepped back.
Jonta smiled behind his mask. Even Kron, hot-headed as he was, was not fool enough to take on Aryk, who was not only stronger but half a head taller. However, Jonta was surprised at what his old friend now said.
"Kron is right," Aryk said. "This female, whoever she is, whatever her reason for being here, is a trespasser. She must be dealt with."
Jonta remained silent for a moment as he mulled over Aryk's words. It was true. The law of the People demanded that trespassers on their clan's land be dealt with harshly, especially those who were not of the People. But Jonta could not help feeling that there was something wrong, and that the female was not all that she appeared to be.
However, as he looked around at his hunting band, he knew that it would not be wise for him to go against their wishes. For the hot-headed Kron was right. Jonta was getting old. He had already seen 50 turns. Younger males like Kron were eager to see him show weakness so that they could swoop in and destroy him.
"All right. We will go back," Jonta finally said.
Although Jonta could not see the faces of his band, covered as they were by their masks, he sensed their excitement, particularly among the younger males. More than likely, Jonta thought, as he turned and made his way back to the bluff, they would want to have some sport with the female before they killed her.
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Aurra Sing gazed into the flickering flames. She had heard the movement of the Tuskens above her on the bluff. They had watched her silently for a long moment, then moved away, but she was not worried. They would be back. She shifted her body slightly, allowing the muscles of her arms and legs to loosen. When she had come upon the Tuskens some kilometers back, her first instinct had been to kill them. But as she had watched them, swaying on the backs of their banthas, something had stirred inside her. An itch along the cleft of her sex.
The Tuskens were vicious, cruel and murderous, and it was their potential for violence that had stirred Aurra. She had piloted her swoop ahead of them, keeping out of their sight. She had soon stopped and hid the swoop and her weapons in a cave not far from the bluff under which she now sat.
She had then built a fire knowing it would draw the Tuskens like moths to a flame. And she had waited. Waited for them to find her, alone and defenseless. Waited for them to swoop down upon her like the carrion they were and take her.
Aurra's mouth twisted. It was a dangerous game she played. The Tuskens could just as well slit her throat as give her what she wanted, but that was part of the appeal of the game; the not knowing if this time she had overplayed her hand and would wind up dead. She was not so arrogant to think that someday she would not find herself in a situation that was too much even for her. But, again, that was part of the thrill.
Lifting her head, Aurra gazed up at the star-speckled sky. Devoid as it was of any heavy industrial areas, the skies of Tatooine were sharp and clear. A backwater planet if ever there was one, Aurra thought sneeringly, but there was also something about it that appealed to her. There was a purity in the planet's harshness unencumbered as it was by the facade of civilization that Aurra found on other worlds in the Republic. Tatooine was brutal, cruel and unforgiving. Like her.
She relaxed her muscles still more. She had come to this world to find and kill a Jedi that was rumored to be living among the Tuskens. This little detour, however, was costing her precious time. But Aurra had a lead on the Jedi that pointed to a clan of Tuskens who camped near what was known as the Great Needle. She was confident that, despite her little diversion, it would not be long before she found her prey. And with that, she settled herself to wait for the Tuskens to return.
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Jonta peered over the edge of the bluff. He had hoped that the foolish female had realized her peril and left. But she was still there, sitting by her fire. He signaled to his band and, noiselessly, they made their way down the bluff. Moving like shadows across the sand they soon surrounded the hapless female.
Five male Tuskens in the prime of their life and one lone female. A situation such as this should have immediately drawn a scream of terror from the moon-skinned female, but she only sat by her fire and looked calmly up at them.
Now that he was closer, Jonta could see that the female was slender and well-made. She wore clothing that was the color of blood and clung to the curves of her body. Her head was hairless except for a long, red-brown pony-tail in which were woven strings of beads. Her fingers were longer than those of the humans Jonta had come across and her skin was even paler up close. Like the bones of a skeleton.
Jonta shuddered, grateful that the others could not see his reaction under his robes. He gestured at the female with his gaffi stick, asking who she was and what was her business. The female continued to gaze silently up at him, her strange shadowed eyes seeming to pierce past his mask and into his soul.
Again, foreboding rose within Jonta and, if not for how it would look to the others, he would have turned and left the female by her fire. Instead he gestured at her again as the others of his band crowded around her, their gaffi sticks pointed at her.
The female remained silent. Kron stepped forward and placed the blunt end of his gaffi stick against her chest. He pushed, but the female did not fall over. She resisted the pressure of the gaffi stick, the muscles in her slender arms bunching.
Something hot flared in her eyes and, suddenly, she fell back onto the ground. She was breathing hard, but Jonta did not think it was from exertion. It looked to him like she was excited.
