The lor pelek stood on the slope below Mace, holding the reins of a saddled grasser. The grasser kept one of its three eyes fixed warily on Vastor, and when he spoke, the grasser trembled as though it would shy away were it not held in place by an invisible force that overpowered its instincts.

Jedi Windu. You are sent for, dôshalo.

Mace did not need to ask by whom. “Where is she?”

An hour’s ride ahead. Resting in her howdah. She no longer walks.

Mace felt dizzy; the world shifted focus as though he looked at its reflection in a rippling pool. “An hour … no longer walks—?” It made no sense, but in the Force it felt like the truth. “She was here—she was just here—”


- Shatterpoint, Chapter 9