“Climb,” Anakin mouthed to Tahiri.
She didn’t move. She was frozen in panic, her green eyes were fixed on the tentacles as they danced through the air. Anakin tightened his grip on Tahiri’s arms until she turned to face him again.
“Climb,” he said again. This time his ice blue eyes flashed, and his word was a command that rang with the power of the Force. Immediately, Tahiri turned and began to scramble up the dirt and sand wall behind her. Anakin drew her up, helping her keep her balance when she slid. He could sense the creature’s tentacles moving toward them. The moment Tahiri’s hands reached the edge of the pit, Anakin leaned back and yanked her out.
Then they ran. Anakin and Tahiri ran until the creature and the pit were four dunes behind them and their lungs ached. And when they fell to the sand, gasping for breath and sweating in the stillness of the desert night, they didn’t notice the cold. All they saw was the beauty of the stars, and all they felt was the relief of their own freedom. And when sleep swept over them like the blowing of the desert sand, they gave themselves up to its hands.
Anakin awoke, facedown, in the warm desert sands of Tatooine. He felt his belly rumbling in hunger, and his throat burned with thirst. Sand clung to his eyelashes and crusted along his mouth. He reached up to wipe the grains from his face. His senses came alive. He smelled their company before he saw them.
“Anakin, we’ve got a slight problem,” Tahiri said softly as she rolled to face her friend. She motioned with her head toward the brown-robed creatures that stood in a circle around them.
“What are they?” Anakin asked as he wrinkled his nose. Whatever the beings were, they smelled rotten, he thought.
“Jawas,” Tahiri whispered. Anakin remembered hearing about the scavenger race from his uncle Luke. Jawas were rodent - like beings that traveled in bands, searching for wrecked ships to salvage, vehicles to steal, and discarded hardware to collect. Anakin studied the meter-tall creatures. There were ten of them, and they jabbered and pointed at him and Tahiri, their yellow eyes glowing.
“I think they’re trying to figure out if we’re worth something or if they should just leave us in the desert,” Anakin said. If the Jawas left them, he thought, he and Tahiri would die of thirst, hunger, and exposure. The Jawas moved toward the two Jedi. Tahiri rose to her feet.
“Careful,” Anakin whispered.
“They aren’t really dangerouLs,” Tahiri said softly.
“In fact, they usually like humans, because we’re the ones they sell their scavenged material to.”
“I’d be willing to bet that we don’t exactly look like paying customers,” Anakin grumbled as he stood up. The Jawas quickly decided that Anakin and Tahiri weren’t worth bothering with and began to walk away.
“Strange that they’re walking,” Tahiri murmured.
“They usually travel in sandcrawlers.”
“What are sandcrawlers?” Anakin asked with interest.
“They’re huge ore haulers that human miners brought to Tatooine years ago. They expected to make a fortune in the Wastelands. But they discovered that there’s not much worth mining out here. So, they left the haulers and the Jawas took them. Jawas use the sandcrawlers to find and collect metals and wrecked machinery. The deserts here are full of junk. Galactic battles have been fought near Tatooine for hundreds of years. And whatever falls from space and lands here is preserved by the dry climate. Jawas find wrecked ships, droids, and other machinery, which they fix and sell in Mos Eisley or to moisture farmers in the desert.”
Tahiri watched silently as the Jawas walked away from them.
“Anakin, let’s follow them,” she suggested with a glint in her eye. “Wherever they’re camped, there’s got to be food and water.”
Anakin and Tahiri began to tag along with the Jawas. If they noticed, they didn’t turn around.
“At least we’re heading toward the Jundland Wastes,” Anakin noted with a nod toward the mountain peaks that had appeared as they crested a dune.
“So why do they smell so bad?” Anakin asked Tahiri as they trudged through the sand.
“Sliven once told me that the Jawas love their smell,” Tahiri began. “They use scent to identify each other, to sense health, anger, or sadness. To us, they stink. But to them, scent is information.”
“I wonder what information they got about us,” Anakin said. He didn’t need Tahiri to answer. Fear, hunger, thirst, confusion; that about summed up their smells. Over an hour later, the Jawas stopped walking.
“Must be home sweet home,” Anakin said as he spied what had to be a sandcrawler. The machine was a dull brown, its hull ravaged by wind storms and the suns’ rays.