LTP2

*****

Jemmiah Gleshan sat fidgeting as she waited for the transport to take her to the zoo. Not perhaps the venue she would ordinarily have chosen to say goodbye to her boyfriend.

She'd not made too many friends outside the temple since her arrival several years ago, but that had never bothered her. She'd always been a loner, always having to rely on herself. She just couldn't shake the habit, even after all this time. There was of course her guardian Evla Sovalla, who had taken her in and adopted her as her own, putting her own needs before all others, for which Jemmy had boundless gratitude. She cared for her foster parent very much.

But she sometimes felt as if she had never fitted in.

Not just on Coruscant, but on Corellia and then Nargotria, where Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had first found her.

Obi-Wan.

He'd been such a good friend to her, understanding her occasional bouts of frustrated temper, the overly high spirits, and the endless pranks. He was so often away on field missions and for her part she missed him very much during her once yearly stay on Corellia with her Uncle. She dug her nails into her hands when she thought that tears were about to spill from her eyes. She was due to embark on that particular journey once more.

Tomorrow, infact.

She didn't mind her Uncle. He had been kind and supportive of her once an agreement had been reached regarding her future but there had been an initial period of over a year whilst endeavors were made to locate any living relatives, all fruitless as it happened, in which she had formed a bond of sorts with Evla from the temple crèche, and who had decided to offer her a roof over her head. Qui-Gon Jinn had supported the decision, being loosely speaking the one who had championed her cause in the first place. Even Yoda seemed to have an inexplicable liking for her.

Her horror could not be expressed in words when her Uncle was eventually located and he and his wife had filed for custody. Qui-Gon had been distraught on Evla's part. The lawyers not unnaturally leaned towards her uncle. Obi-Wan had been her only true source of comfort. A fellow child who could understand a child’s tears.

Her savior, she grinned at the thought, had been Yoda himself. She never knew what he had said to swing things her way but her Uncle had relented, realizing that it was important that she should have the choice in the direction her future would take. She had chosen Coruscant. But part of the settlement had been an insistence that for three to four months of the year, she spend time with her Uncle and his wife.

And their three sons.

The transport shuddered as it continued its journey. She hated public transport, part of the legacy of not liking to get too close to people, and here she was, surrounded by beings with the most raucous voices imaginable... and with the most dubious personal hygiene. Literally trapped. Squashed between two bulky figures whose elbows insisted on digging into her side at all times, forced to listen to their inane conversations. Sith, how she wished the transport would arrive!

She took a calming breath, trying to remember what Obi-Wan had taught her about stress control. One didn't have to be a Jedi to meditate and think relaxing thoughts. But, Jemmy thought grimly, it probably helped. He'd assisted her with all manner of things. How to bite her tongue in difficult situations. How to be considerate to other beings less well off. In return, she'd taught him all her best Corellian swear words.

She'd thought it a fair exchange.

In truth, Jemmiah didn't think Obi-Wan's lessons had done her very much good in the long run. The temper management one had been a disaster. Only two months ago she had smashed him over the head with what she could only describe as a rather mingy looking glass vase.

Unfortunately Qui-Gon had seen the deed committed. She had apologized on the spot, offering to pay for damages, medic bills, only to be met by stony silence. As Master Jinn had wrapped a towel round his apprentice's bleeding head, she had run away. He hadn't spoken to her since.

That hurt. She knew she deserved it but it still hurt. Qui-Gon's support during her initial stay at the temple had been so important to her and so to be cut off from his paternal, guiding hand had been a bitter blow indeed. She had hoped he would come round but there had been no sign of the chill that had grown between them thawing now or in the immediate future. And now Evla was ill...

Her one consolation was that Obi-Wan had quickly forgiven her. That he hadn't made good his threat to explain the real reason behind their argument.

And that Master Windu was such a quick and ready accomplice.

The meeting had been arranged between them in an extremely hasty manner via Mace's Holonet connection, and not for the first time had she been thankful that at least some people within the Jedi temple thought her worthy of some consideration.

The Yoda thing still bothered her, though. He'd seen something in her future, something important enough to merit keeping tracks on her, but try as she might he would never say what it was. Master Windu remained tight-lipped also.

Frustrating no longer went deep enough.

Twisting her long, chestnut hair round her finger in annoyance, Jemmiah failed in her attempt to close her mind to the conversation around her, especially as one of the larger ladies elbows landed yet another blow to her ribs.

"I think there's far too much violence portrayed on kids holo-broadcasts these days," she was saying to her even larger companion sat on the other side of her, "I mean, where is all the romance? Where are all the good old fashioned musical productions they used to show when we were children?"

Her friend rumbled to herself for a moment. "You're right dear. You can't call all this trash they listen to these days music, can you?"
"No. It's all thumping, and squealing and meaningless noise." replied the first.

You can talk about meaningless noise, thought Jemmiah.

"It's all this...what's it called. Juzz-Wailing."

JIZZ, thought Jemmy. C'mon. If you're going to insult it at least get it right!

"No wonder the youth of today is delinquent. It's all Juzz-Wailing and Cantina's and low cut tops..." she turned her head distastefully to look at Jemmiah.

The cheek! It's not cut that low...is it? She caught herself staring down at her own ample cleavage. Well, maybe it is a little bit revealing, she admitted. But I'm not a delinquent. I mean, it's not as if I go around smashing up people's property or attacking people...

Oh.

She swallowed. Maybe they did have a point. But Sith, no! Her reason for wearing revealing, figure-hugging outfits was because she had the figure to wear it. She was curvaceous, and not unattractive, with a still child like face and large, copper colored eyes. If you've got it, share it! You didn't last long on the streets if you didn't capitalize on your assets!

Liar, her inner voice said. You just do it to tease poor Obi-Wan. Well, he did blush beautifully.

Her attention was brought back to the conversation by the words "Jedi". "Young girls these days just go for the wrong type of man. It's all bounders and cads, and..."
"...scoundrels."
"Yes," nodded the larger of the two, her jowls shaking in agreement. "What's wrong with a nice Jedi boy? I always did fancy me a Jedi. So well mannered. Always so obliging, happy to help you."

I must remember to set you up with a certain Jedi master, smiled Jemmy to herself. Two hours with you and I just know he'll be fighting you off with that stick of his.

To her relief, the transport began to approach their destination, slowing gently. Please don't spare me to grow up like these two, she prayed to whatever Gods were listening.

"I don't like a beard on a man. I like a nice, clean shaven man." commented number one. "Anything goes these days." She turned to Jemmiah eyeing her as if she were a poisoned scorpion under a rock. "What do you think, dear?"

Jemmiah shrugged indifferently.

"I don't like beards." the large lady repeated disparagingly.

The transport had stopped moving, and in one lithe swoop Jemmiah had pulled herself from her seated position towards the exit.

"Really," she called over her shoulder, " Is that why you're growing one."

The doors opened and as the light flooded in, Jemmiah made her quick escape. The fresh air was welcome to her after the claustrophobic atmosphere of the transport. Those classes Obi-Wan had given her on politeness really had NOT helped her one whit. But she didn't care.

As she strode towards the entrance she had only one desperate thought.

LET ME IN!!!

************************************************

Obi-Wan was not having a good time. One of the initiates had stuck a Candyfloss stick up their nose, which had broken off leaving part of the offending object still there. The Sith would be easier to fight, he thought, grinding his teeth as he tried to peer into the little boy's nose. He had only one thought as he looked wildly round for help.

LET ME OUT!!!

*****

Mace Windu glanced around the small initiates massed around his feet. Taking a quick count, the blood in his face began to drain. "Qui-Gon Jinn?" he said, glancing around hastily. "We’re missing one."

Qui-Gon was kneeled on the ground tying a shoelace of a younger boy who kept wiping his nose with the back of his hand. His head shot up to look at his friend’s face, hoping to see mirth in his eyes. "You’re kidding, right?" he said, finishing with the shoelace and producing a handkerchief from a pouch on his utility belt, which he thrust at the boy. The boy took it, looked at it, and then tied it around his head like Qui-Gon’s hair, mimicking him.

"Sith, no, not at a time like this. We’re missing an initiate," he replied, counting the group for the third time. "I only get seven heads each time I’ve done this."

"Force. The little green troll is really going to have our hides if we don’t find him," Qui-Gon replied, taking another count for himself. Running a hand through his hair, he turned around, frowning at the little boy who was doing the same. He stopped, blushed a deep red, bowed his head modestly, and proffered the handkerchief back. Qui-Gon didn’t pay attention long enough to notice. "Sith!" he muttered under his breath. "I’ll go look for him. You keep an eye on them and don’t let them out of your sight!"

Mace shook his head, wondering how he was going to occupy the group. "All right, but you owe me on this."

Qui-Gon looked back grimly. "If I don’t find the kid, it doesn’t really matter, now does it?" he replied anxiously.

Settling off into a crowed, Qui-Gon traced the steps that the group had taken back towards the entrance. Suddenly, he caught sight of medium-sized, chestnut-haired girl. Jemmiah? He thought wonderingly to himself. What is she doing here? He saw her glance furtively around, check a chrono hanging on a wall, and then set off determinedly in down one of the paths.

Suddenly, a small set of hands latched onto his leg. "Daddy!" a high-pitched voice squealed. Looking down in surprise, Qui-Gon saw a young blond-haired, blue-eyed little boy attached to his kneecap. The little boy looked up and paled, fear etched across his face. "You’re not my daddy," he trembled, letting go. Tears began to form at the edge of his eyes, and he rubbed a chubby hand across his face, trying to get rid of them. "Where’s my daddy? He’s gone! He left me! I’m never going to see Mommy or Daddy again!!" the little boy began wailing at the top of his lungs. He cried even harder.

Feeling terrible about causing such grief, Qui-Gon stooped down until he was eye level with the boy. "I’ll help you find your daddy," he said gently. People began to stare at the oddly dressed man and the screaming little boy.

He pushed at Qui-Gon and looked angry. "No, you’re not my daddy. Go ‘way!!"

Glancing to his left, Qui-Gon stared at a pair of knee length boots and the dark blue of uniform pants. Looking up, he saw a security guard, tapping his billy club against the palm of one hand.

"Is there a problem here?" he asked sternly.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to speak but never got the chance. "He’s not my daddy!" the little boy wailed again, tears streaming down his checks. "I can’t find my daddy or my mommy!"

The guard looked humorlessly at the Jedi Master. "And what’s your story?"

"I’m here with initiates from the Jedi Temple, and one of them got separated from our group. I went looking for him and this little boy grabbed onto my leg, thinking I was his father, then went into hysterics," Qui-Gon replied, looking hopeful. The little boy continued crying noisily.

"Uh-huh," the guard responded dubiously. "Sir, you need to come with me. I think you and I need to have a little chat about the wrongs of kidnapping innocent children." He produced a pair of arm restraints and put them on the Master’s wrists. "Come with me, son, we’ll find your parents and keep you away from this nasty, mean, old man."

Unceremoniously, Qui-Gon was hauled to the containment area. Sith, I’m going to murder that little troll when I get back. If I get back, he thought bitterly. Obi-Wan was wrong, this day did get worse. I have a sinking feeling it’s not over yet, either.

*****

IhatethisIhatethisIhatethisIhatethisIhatethis!

Simeon Cates chanted those lines over and over again in his mind, as if he'd invented an alternative Jedi Temple mantra. It didn't give him the least bit comfort. It didn't relax him. He felt as if the force had deserted him in his darkest hour.

How he wished those rotten kids would do the same!

In the space of an hour, he'd been kicked, punched, throttled and had to endure the most humiliating assault on a certain part of his anatomy, as a result of which he felt sure that producing children may well be an impossibility should the right lady ever appear on the scene. But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

He hated kids. With a passion.

This miniature swarm of Sith had taken advantage of the fact that he was completely clueless when it came to entertaining children, Jedi or otherwise. The fact they had rudimentary force skills had made the matter worse. They had found out quite early on that he was extremely ticklish, and boy, had they made him pay.

Things had started off badly, he decided, and declined progressively thereafter. He had somehow rounded the little vrelts together and marched them over to the Ankula enclosure, a species of colorful, shaggy haired rodent that stood some three feet off the ground. Well, he thought, THEY had marched.

HE had limped.

The urge to whimper became a very strong one when he recalled the next stage in the whole sorry affair. The kids had tried to get as close to the force barrier as possible, in order to get as good a view of the creatures as possible. Only the animals in question were not to be seen. According to the data screen outside the enclosure, the inhabitants had just started their hibernation cycle.

Reading it was one thing; telling it to four disappointed children was another. Simeon just stood there, trying to get his head round the idea of fate conspiring against him. Who would have thought that Ankula's hibernated?

He wished he were an Ankula.

He sighed, scrunching up his dark, almost black eyes, wishing he wasn't here. Right now, he should be back at the temple with the healers, learning from An-Paj and the other Jedi who were skilled in all things medical. He had been proud to be taken on as an apprentice healer; he felt that his strength lay with trying to help combat all suffering, sickness and misery. He had said as much. But then An-Paj had taken him to one side, congratulating him on his noble ideals and ethics, before he proceeded to tell him that generally speaking, Jedi healers were the most miserable beings that inhabited the galaxy, which inturn helped them to cope with the job.

"Be miserable," he had said to Simeon Cates, "that way when the patients see how depressed you are, they feel a hundred times happier with their own situation." And then he had winked.
"Are you miserable, An-Paj?" he had asked, entirely confused.
"Of course I'm miserable," he replied deadpan, "I've got six wives, haven't I!"

Well, if being miserable was a pre-requisite of being a good healer, he was well and truly on the way to being the Universe's finest.

The kids had got restless. They had decided that if the Ankula's were not coming out to play, they would have to manufacture their own entertainment.

They had pelted him with Candyfloss.

During his attack, Simeon wondered briefly if Obi-Wan was fairing any better. He didn't really care, if he was honest, he just needed to be able to converse with somebody whose idea of a good time did not include coating him in sugar-based, edible fluff! His mind made up, he pulled the recalcitrant kids along behind him, ignoring the cries of protest, not to mention the strange looks he was beginning to garner. A piece of green floss had attached itself to his eyebrow. He left it there as a mark of his martyrdom, for all to see. Yes, he thought, let Obi-Wan see how I'VE suffered, as he limped off to find his friend.

IhatethisIhatethisIhatethisIhatethisIhatethis...

*******************************************************

"No!"
"Pleeeeeease."
"I said NO!!!"
"Just one..."

Obi-Wan wondered how many ways there were to say NO. Obviously, it was a word that did not exist in Isadora Lucey's vocabulary.

"For the last time, I am NOT going to give you a kiss!"
"Oh, go onnnnnnnnnn!" she whined, following the object of her youthful crush as he desperately tried to move out of her reach.
"Just get back with the other children."

Silence.

"I love it when you frown. You've got such a neat frown!" she enthused.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! Thought Obi-Wan.

" I bet I kiss better than that silly girlfriend of yours." she pouted.
"That is not something either of us are ever going to find out!" yelled Obi-Wan, trying to fend her off with raised arms. The other kids just stared at him blankly.
"You've got a really dreamy voice too," she sighed. "That is such a cool accent! I just loved it when you said the animals were proving "elusive". It was great!"

I wonder if it's too late to join the agri-corps, Obi-Wan thought darkly. She was beginning to move in on him again, when he saw the disheveled figure of Simeon Cates and a discontented huddle of children making their way over the hill in his direction. His fellow Padawan was most definitely looking the worse for wear. Candyfloss stuck to him in large, ungainly clumps. His robe and tunic were plastered in it, as was his dark hair. Obi-Wan noticed that his friend seemed to favor his left side rather than the right. Forgetting his own problems for a moment, he wandered over to greet Simeon with a smile the size of a Hutt spreading rapidly across his face.

"DON'T ask." warned Simeon.

If anything, the grin became bigger. He motioned Simeon to sit down on the bench nearby, whilst Isadora hurrrumphed! in disgust that her prey had made a temporary escape. As the rest of the children played and screamed and fought, Obi-Wan held his head in his hands.

"I am WHACKED!" he groaned.
"YOU'RE whacked?!!" challenged Simeon. He gestured to the kids. "I've tried being nice to this Sithspawn, but all I got for my trouble was a kick in the buffers!"
"They never!" laughed Obi-Wan. Perhaps he had got off lightly. He looked at his wrist-chrono, and his expression became more subdued. "You haven't run into Jemmy have you?" he grimaced. "I've been round and round this damn enclosure so many times I'm beginning to feel dizzy."
Simeon shook his head. Sorry, Obi. I'm sure she'll turn up." He smirked. "She's probably ran into Master Jinn!"
Barely repressed fear danced its way across Obi-Wan's features.

"Don't say things like that!" He hung his head once more. "Jemmy's clever. She'll manage to stay out of his way."

Although for how long, Obi-Wan had grave doubts. Qui-Gon wasn't strong in the living force for nothing.

He blew out a deep breath.

"I'm STILL whacked."
"I know. Makes you wonder how Master Jinn and Master Windu manage it." Simeon paused, reaching deep into his robe, before pulling out what seemed to resemble a hip flask. "Here," he offered it to Obi-Wan, "try some."

Obi-Wan took the proffered flask, unscrewing the metal stopper before sniffing the contents warily. He pulled a face.

"What in the name of Yoda's sainted stick is this?!" he cried in revulsion.

Simeon looked offended.

"It's medicinal alcohol. An-Paj made it in his still. I added some Cherryblade mixer to make it more palatable. It's from the store rooms in the medical..."
"You STOLE this from An-Paj's medical stores!" Obi-Wan began to quake visibly, "Simeon, you are a prize Nerf! What do you think he's going to do when he discovers it's gone? And who's taken it?"

Cates shrugged. "You'll just have to help me dispose of the evidence, then." he replied cheerfully.

Obi-Wan peered into his face. He hadn't really noticed how flushed his friend was before, or that his words were just a little slurred. Judging by appearances, Obi-Wan guessed that Simeon had started disposing of the evidence long before he'd met up with his friend.

"He'll know!" groaned Obi-Wan. "An-Paj always knows. He sees everything that goes on in the temple." He stared at his lap forlornly. "He once told me to see to my blisters half an hour before they came up!"
"Relax, Obi."
"Relax?!"
"I put a flagon of water in its place at the back of the store. He'll never find it."

Obi-Wan shivered. "Do you know what a plant looks like?" he asked Simeon finally.

The question surprised his companion, even in his Semi-inebriated state.

"Of course."
"Good." snapped Obi-Wan "Coz, we're both going to be seeing a lot of them when we're shipped off to Bandomeer!"

He looked about. Jemmiah was nowhere in sight. One of the children seemed to be attempting to eat one of its fellows. To his right, Isadora Lucey stalked and circled like a Wampa with the smell of blood in its nostrils.

Obi-Wan gave another groan.

"I'm after you with the flask."
Simeon nodded. "Here's to being miserable."

************************************************

"...And this is the Murrit enclosure." the keeper indicated with a general sweep of his arm.

Mace Windu felt as if he was glowing. Infact, he felt positively radiant. In many ways, this was his greatest triumph since he had gone from Padawan to knight.

The kids were quiet!

He'd cracked it! The little horrors were listening attentively to the animal keeper, literally hanging on his every word, excited at the chance to actually mingle with the creatures and see them face to face instead of behind a force barrier. It had taken a little persuasion on Mace's part for the eight strong private party of master and initiates to be allowed into the enclosure itself, but the keeper had taken pity on him and agreed, on condition that everyone was silent and well behaved.

The keeper had stressed the well-behaved part, Windu had noticed, before fixing him with an "OR ELSE" kind of look. But then again, if you can't trust a Jedi to remain calm and placid in times of chaos, who could you?

If only Qui-Gon was here to see this wondrous transformation from hellions to little angels in one fell swoop. Mace wondered if his friend had had any luck with locating the little boy, and found himself glancing at his wrist chrono. I hope he finds him soon, he thought, hissing through clenched teeth. Yoda would have them dismembered if they didn't. Or worse still, assisting the temple cooks for a month...

He was brought back to the present by a quite deliberate kick to the shin. "You're not listening." the little girl hissed at him. Frowning, as he rubbed his injured leg, Mace tried for appearance sake to look interested. After all, if the kids could stay quiet, he could stay awake.

Maybe.

It appeared that they were just past the Murrit breeding season, but for as yet unexplained reasons the egg production of the impossibly hairy creatures had been extremely low.

"It's probably because we had to move them to a larger enclosure earlier in the year." explained the keeper in hushed tones. "Murrit's are very territorial creatures. They don't like a lot of disturbance to their surrounds. We think that by moving them we may have stressed them slightly, hence the low egg production."

Sabra-Ni held up her hand to ask a question. "Why do they lay eggs? They've got fur."
The keeper smiled. "That's a good question. Usually, it's birds and reptilian creatures that lay eggs..."
"And spiders." whispered one of the older girls.
"Yes." agreed the keeper, slightly annoyed at the interruption.
"And fish." muttered another girl.
"Yes, thank you." glared the keeper, with a just-who's-the-expert-here-anyway look about him. "However, this is a prime example of how truly diverse nature is. Murrits are warm blooded, lactating animals that just happened to lay eggs. Nobody knows why."
"Because eggs go better with toasted bread!" giggled Sabra-Ni.

Mace recalled Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's earlier urge to hit their heads off various walls and supporting structures and found that it was all he could do to stop himself from walking over to the nearest tree to do likewise.

"Why are they so far away?" little Kelda Rosset asked in disappointment, pointing to a group of suspicious looking Murrits hovering some forty feet away.
"Well, because they don't know who you are," the keeper tried to console her gently, "They're used to myself and the other keepers, infact they're quite tame. They're hanging back to see if you're a threat to themselves and the few eggs they've managed to produce."

As he spoke, one of the male Murrits started to edge its way forward out from the tall grasses where they were congregating. For some reason Mace couldn't fathom, it seemed to have fixed its beady eyes firmly on him...

The keeper continued cautiously, "Murrits make very protective parents. They have special grips on their feet like suckers, that help to grip hold of their eggs. They secrete a rather foul smelling glue-like substance from glands in their paws that allow them to do this. Once the Murrit father has attached himself in this way, it becomes almost impossible to remove him from the egg."
"Why do they do that?" asked Kelda, frowning.
The keeper thought. "Well, when they're in the wild there are lots of hungry predators that might be looking for something to go with their toasted bread." he smiled. "By staying attached, the male can almost make certain of the initial survival of the offspring. He has another interesting defense mechanism; a spray of scent from the base of the tail which, believe me, is quite enough to deter the most persistent of egg robbers."

Oh, charming, thought Mace. They sound so cute. Maybe we should get one to use as the temple mascot. He noticed the Murrit still had its eyes trained rigidly on him. He watched it slink a little closer to them.

"How big are the eggs?" Sabra-Ni asked.
The keeper pointed to the Murrit. "You can see how big that one is," he replied. "Well, that's the normal size for a fully grown adult. The eggs are about the size of a human head," he said gesturing to his own skull, "and are a shiny brownie-tan color. They only lay one at a time to enable the male to protect it at all times."

At this point, Windu thought he ought to look as if he'd been paying attention. "Why the male?"
"Whilst the male is sat on the egg, the female goes out and collects the food. Berries, nuts, grasses and the like. She also, err..cleans up after the male."

A small groan of disgust ran through the group. Sabra said " You mean he doesn't get off the egg even to have a..."
"NO!" finished the keeper quickly. "As I say, the female does all the work."
"Figures." muttered one of the eight-year-old girls in Windu's group.

The Murrit that had been eyeing Mace had paused momentarily, its head cocked to one side as if in thought. Infact, it reminded him greatly of a cannoid of sorts, with its almost doglike snout and small sharp fangs. For most part it was covered in vast quantities of hair, ranging in golden brown through to near black on its tail, which it held aloft like a streamer.

Slowly, it continued its stalking. Slowly.

"How long do they sit on the eggs for?" asked one of the boys.
"Usually, about two months. Sometimes longer, sometimes less. You can never really tell. For as long as it takes for the Murrit to hatch. But as I say, they are doting parents, and once they're on their egg, it's very much a case of being there for the duration..."

A flash of golden-brown fur and a crescendo of screams from the kids in Mace's charge told him that something unexpected was happening, and before reaching out with the force to confirm his bad feeling, there was a whoosh of air from towards his left side, and a horrible feeling of hairy warmth settling upon his face and head. He reached up instinctively to see what was going on, and received a nip to his right hand. Suddenly, his vision went completely black, as a dark blanket of long hair settled over his eyes.

Mace tried to swat the offending object once more, but it was futile. Whatever it was, it was stuck tight.

********************************************

"I'm sorry Master Windu," the keeper shook his head in despair, "Nothing like this has ever happened before in all the days I've been working here."

Mace Windu just stood there with his arms folded, complete with his new Murrit headgear. It had been a considerable amount of time since his head had been this warm, and it made him feel damned uncomfortable. The Murrit itself seemed quite content, and had settled down remarkably quickly. It fixed one eye on the keeper, watching for any sudden movement.

GO AHEAD, it seemed to be thinking, YOU KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN IF YOU DO.

"So it's never happened before," Windu's reply came back slightly muffled under a cascade of Murrit hair. "That doesn't help me in the slightest."
"I don't know why it's behaving this way." The keeper scratched his head, at a loss to know what to do next.

There was a wave of giggling from amongst the children, until a tug on his robe got Mace's attention.

"Master Windu," Sabra-Ni tittered, "HE THINKS YOU'RE AN EGG!"

Mace swallowed. Where was Qui-Gon when you needed him?

He turned to where he thought the keeper was.

"Err, how long did you say these things stayed put?"