“Glad I’m outta there!” he gasped.
He kept running, until the cantina was out of sight behind him. There were still throngs of people everywhere, but no one seemed to notice him at all
Probably used to folks being chased, thought Boba. He turned and continued running down a side street.
He was starting to get tired. better rest soon, before
With a grunt, Boba tripped on a pile of rubble. Crying out, he fell forward onto a cracked sidewalk. Instinctively his hands reached out to break his fall.
But it wasn’t enough to keep him from crashing onto the hard, dusty ground.
“O000f - “
He went down, headfirst, hard enough that the breath was knocked out of him. Too late he remembered his helmet.
“No!”
Helplessly, Boba felt the helmet bounce from his head. He grabbed at it. For just an instant, he felt its smooth metal surface. Then it slid from his grasp.
It was gone.
Around him was a sea of legs and feet-booted feet, hooved feet, clawed feet.
Where was his helmet?
Frantically, Boba scrambled forward on his hands and knees. He ignored the curses and jeers of those who had to step around him. A booted foot kicked at him. Someone else laughed. Boba gritted his teeth and kept going.
There!
He could just see it, only an arm’s length away. There was the familiar smooth sweep of black that hid his face when the helmet was where it belonged.
Boba stumbled to his feet, his hand stretched out to grab the helmet.
And just as he did, someone else snatched it from him!
“Looking for something?”
Boba straightened, furious. “That’s mine! Give it to me!”
“Yours?” The voice snorted in disbelief. “I don’t think so.”
Boba looked up. In front of him stood a girl. She was maybe a year younger than he was. She was smaller than Boba, and much dirtier. Her face was streaked with dust and soot. So was her hair. It looked brown, but Boba suspected it might be dark blond beneath the layer of grime. She was skinny, almost starved-looking, and wore tattered cast-off clothes - an Ugnaught mechanic’s smock, much too big and belted around the waist with a piece of filthy rope. Her eyes were blue and piercing.
She might have been younger than he was, but she looked just as determined.
“Where would you get a Mandalorian battle helmet?” she demanded. She held it up and stared at it thoughtfully. “This is worth a lot,” she continued. She gave Boba a look that was both suspicious and admiring. “Where’d you steal it?”
“I didn’t!” He lunged, grabbing for it, but she was too fast. Before he could say another word, she was already on the far side of the road, running with the helmet under her arm.
Boba stared after her, stunned.
“No one takes what’s mine!” he shouted, and raced in pursuit.
CHAPTER FIVE
The winding road was even more crowded than the one he’d left. But this time, Boba’s size helped him. He could wriggle in and out of the throng as quickly as a Ralltiirieel. He could easily keep the girl in view, since she wasn’t bigger than he was. He found that he was enjoying the chase.
He followed her, panting, past dark doorways where smugglers lurked, down narrow alleys crowded with pack animals like hairy tybis and immense banthas. He raced through an open marketplace taken up by a huge starship surrounded by twittering Jawas. They were already gutting it to sell on the black market. The girl ran on tirelessly, her bare feet slapping the ground.
“Stop!” Boba yelled.
When he saw the looks the Jawas gave him, he realized yelling was a mistake. After that he ran in silence, saving his energy for the chase.
On and on she ran. Boba had to duck under low awnings, jump over heaps of rubbish and the steaming remains of a beggar’s tiny campfire. But after a few more minutes he began to gain on her. The girl thief was small and fast, and she knew her way around Mos Espa.
Boba was stronger.
And the Mandalorian helmet was heavy and hard for her to carry. He could tell from the way she clutched it to her side. Once she almost dropped it, and Boba thought he’d get it back at last. His hand stretched out, he could feel the rough cloth of her dirty smock and the smooth curve of his helmet…
With a cry she yanked the helmet closer, hugging it to her thin chest. She made a sharp turn and ran into a building, Boba at her heels.
He didn’t pause to look up and see where he was going. If he had, he might have hesitated. The building was a mere shell. Spindly pieces of wood leaned against each other to form a doorway. A ragged piece of cloth dangled in front of it like a discarded shroud.
But Boba didn’t bother to stop. He raced after her. Seconds later he was plunged into darkness.
He halted, struggling for breath. He cocked his head, listening. He could hear someone else panting.