with the scents of a multitude of prey and smoky woodfires. The
fires' distant crackling was punctuated by rhythmic drumbeats and
excited voices lifted in triumphant song.
Sivrak drew in die clean air, flushing the last stale traces of
recycled fighter oxygen from his lungs. This time, he did not try
to remember what had happened. He knew, in time, all answers would
come.
"Those are the Ewoks singing," Dice said behind him, as he knew
she must.
He turned to face her, gasping at the ethereal wonder of her
lamproid form as she glowed with the inner light she had always
carried. The dark trees of the forest basked in her radiance.
"They celebrate the death of the Emperor," she said.
"Then the battle of Endor's moon . . . ?" Sivrak began.
"Has been won. Our fight is at its end."
Sivrak lifted his paw to touch her, and was not surprised when
he saw that his own arm shone as did Dice's body.
She wound her tail tip around his paw. "We are luminous
beings," she said, "and always have been. True love can never be
denied."
For long moments, Sivrak stood silent in that forest, united at
last in such a way that he knew he would never be alone again-a
balance even simpler than that between predator and prey, the
joining of all things in the Force. But blended in the Ewoks'
chorus, he heard the strains of a different music, from a differ
ent time.
"The cantina," Dice explained without him having to ask.
"I know," Sivrak said. "But there is no need to return there."
"There never was," she said.
And then, tail in paw, their hearts and souls entwined forever,
Dice led Sivrak through the forest of Endor's moon, to a special
place near an Ewok village where three friends waited, as they had
always waited, as they always would wait, for all who would join
them, bound by the Force.
And behind them in the forest, the music from the cantina
softly faded, and was never heard again.
Star Wars - Tales From The Mos Eisley Cantina Page 43