The Impossibilities of Stars and Birds
“No,” Poe said. “We’re not keeping them.” He turned to Finn. “Tell me we’re not keeping them.”
Finn grinned up at him from underneath a mass of blue-white feathers, claws, and one very toothy muzzle. “I dunno Poe. They’re pretty affectionate. We may not have a choice.”
The bird… beast… thing sprawled over Rey’s lap nuzzled the outside of her leg and let out a happy thrum, its outstretched claws flexing in happiness. Rey crooned in response, her fingers smoothing down the crest feathers on a head almost as big as her thigh.
“They were trapped, Poe,” she told him reproachfully. “We’re not going to just leave them here.”
“No, of course not! It’s just…” One of the bird-things – what did the trader call them? Skysnares? – lifted its head and fixed him with a frigid silver stare before it tucked itself back into the pile of Jedi-in-training and apex predators.
“You’re explaining this to General Organa, then,” he told them. “For once this isn’t on me.”
“Seems fair,” came the muffled reply.
Poe was at least slightly gratified a week later when, after landing the Falcon and Black One on the landing pad, the beasties – he’d given up on their actual names – had promptly leapt out of the Falcon before the loading ramp was even halfway lowered. A nearby technician had been started so badly they’d fallen over even as the rest had run for cover.
It wasn’t until Master Skywalker had emerged – with General Organa in tow – that the techs had dared to stir from their hiding spots.
“Rey?” Skywalker asked while staring nonplussed at the beastie nuzzling into his hair like an affectionate tooka-cat. “I don’t suppose you can explain this?”
Rey walked out of the Falcon holding a squawking bundle – Poe felt his heart sink – and grinned at her teacher.
“They’re Force-sensitive,” she beamed.
Skywalker’s robes were being thoroughly investigated. “I… see.”
Finn walked down the ramp with another squalling bundle, which promptly leapt out of his arms and darted to General Organa where it looked up at her, cheeping pitifully…with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth.
“Do we even know what they are?” General Organa asked, lifting the baby-beastie and tucking it under her arm.
“Raptors,” Finn said, his hand on one of the – oh Ancestors – parent-beastie’s head.
Poe could feel its croon in his bones from all the way by his X-wing.
“Pardon?” Skywalker asked, absently scratching his – was it his now? Poe wasn’t sure – beastie… raptor under the chin.
“They were listed as raptors in the ‘Deadly Wildlife’ handbook,” Finn said. “Non-approachable. Request special gear.” He shrugged. “Guess they never tried using a Jedi.”
General Organa and Master Skywalker glanced at each other, an entire conversation passing between them (though it was marred a bit by the screeching of the baby raptors and the overwhelming crooning from the parents.)
General Organa sighed. “No one gets eaten,” she said, pinning Rey and Finn with a look. “The rest of the base stays safe or these raptors leave.”
Rey grinned and Finn nodded. “Yes ma’am,” they replied in unison.
“Oh, Poe!” Rey shouted as Master Skywalker and General Organa left, trailing their new raptor friends.
Rey darted into the Falcon and back out, making a bee-line towards Poe. It was only when she got closer that he realized she had two chirping baby raptors in her hands, but she’d herded him against his X-wing, so he couldn’t escape.
“This one’s for you,” Rey said, and dumped a small, warm bundle of down into his hands. Golden eyes blinked warmly up at him before a muzzle scarcely longer than his hand nestled into his chest, right next to a sudden warmth beside his heart.
The raptor trilled and resettled, cuddling closer, and Poe’s choked-back curses dissipated on a sigh. He carefully hugged the chick closer, smoothing down feathers. “…Thanks guys.”
Rey and Finn beamed matching grins at him and stepped in close, enfolding him and his new charge in a cloud of smug happiness.
And maybe more than a little bit of love.
