Location: Plains of Roon, Lit Side, Following a Bantha Herd
Objective: Reach an acceptable deal with the Bantha Ur-Spirit
As soon as she was within the herd enough to placate the Bull, she sank gratefully to the ground. Her body protested, crying out for sleep, if there was not to be the needed sustenance than surely the retreat to sleep could be allowed, the saving of what little resources physical and mental she had left. But it was not to be. This was all for a reason after all, a purpose.
Fingers dug into dry soil, eyes closed and spirit ichor rose in the air, surrounding her once more in it's green mist. It was easy, dangerously easy now to loose her spirit into the Other that was neither Here nor There. Her deprivations did not weigh on her here, life-strength was thick about her, in the very mist blanketed air she breathed.
"Bantha," she called, rising in this plane "Dhakarta of the Biding Muskeg Clan returns, and begs your attention."
A swirl in the mist. For long, long minutes nothing happened and there was no response. It was possible the Ur-Bantha had decided to simply ignore her rather than continue to deny her. Finally though, a great darkening in the mist, a giant shape approaching with the trademark sway of the Bantha.
"Still you follow. Your coat is not as shiny. Your cheeks are shallow. Your thin skin burns. When will you give in and leave."
"When I die, perhaps your children will put my bones with theirs. There would be honour in that."
"You will turn back."
"I will not. None of the Biding Muskeg has ever turned back, though it led to our deaths. I am the last, and if this is to be my death, then it will be."
The Ur-Spirit looked discomfited by this. It was not the first time they had had this conversation, or a facsimile of it. Dhakarta felt she was coming to come understanding of it. No mortal could ever truly understand an Ur-Spirit of course, to claim or even think that was hubris of the highest order. But she was coming to some understanding. partially from these meetings, but partially also from her endless days walking with the herd. Watching the Matriarch lead, pushing the others, judging capabilities. Watching the Patriarch, trailing behind, making sure none were lost of left behind, watching out for and being most exposed to predators. And her esteem grew. In truth she'd once seen bantha as simply a source of food. Occasional beast of burden or mount for others. But they persisted. Cold. Heat. Drought. Starvation. They persisted. And was this not to be emulated, to be learned, to be respected?
Dhakarta wanted not just the human learning of such a thing, but the boon of the Ur-Spirit. Thus far denied to her. Was it bluff to say she would accept the quiet death the plains offered her if she went on as she was? Hard to say. One couldn't lie to an Ur-Spirit. Not and expect to be able to call upon any of them. Certainly it was not the death she had pictured for herself, but when mortals dared to pit their wills against that of the Spirits, there could only be total commitment or failure. All or nothing, and trust to the spirits.
"Your own herd is waiting, are they not?"
"My Clan is dead, this you know. Of my new allies.. They know me less than the herd that watches my body now. I could be of use to them, this is true, but they do not wait, they would not mourn nor carry my bones."
Again the Ur-Spirit seemed taken aback. What after all was a Bantha without a herd? This one was alone as all Ur-Spirits were of course, but it had every bantha in the galaxy to watch over, to be a part of.
"I do not understand." it said finally.
"This is my fault, ask Great One, and I will clarify as best as I am able."
"Alone you will die, what point asking for my boon, perhaps dying on the plain where my children would care for your bones is kinder."
Dhakarta considered this, turning it around, and found truth within it, but what human ever held only one truth in their hearts?
"I hope. I am many natured, not pure of spirit like a beast. Part of me would agree with you. My Clan is dead, my people betrayed me. I have no true ties. Part of me, part that bleeds for all those I have lost and all those who denied themselves to me, that part might welcome such a death. But another part looks forward and hopes. A new herd, and new Clan could rise, I could give my heart truly to an existing one. There are some futures where I am not alone, but the galaxy is dark and unfriendly, and I must be strong to reach that point, and stronger still to keep it. I must be the Matriarch, looking forward, going to where life can be found, where I can live truly, and I must be the Patriarch, who protects and ensures that none are left behind. There is no human Ur-Spirit for me to appeal to. Perhaps because we have lost purity of purpose, because we are many natured. So I approach you, and your kind, and beg your boon, that my Hope, fragile though it is, might live with me."
"...I will consider this. Go away."
And the Ur-Spirit was gone, not moving away, just gone.
One spoke to the Spirits on their own terms, and so Dhakarta opened her eyes in the Here, leaving the Other behind, feeling the exhaustion seep back into her being as the ichor dissipated in the air. But she smiled and considered it will done. Laying back, she closed her eyes and gave herself up to sleep, under the sun on a planet so far from her own.