(note: this story technically takes place inside an au. i have built elements and organizations that do not exist canonically. i also changed a couple of universe mechanics.
it'll make sense. i just didn't want anyone to get confused.)

╭━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╮

(cabur)
guardian, a title used for the
guards closest to the current
regent of Mandalore
╰━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╯

It's silent when both of the Tatooine suns rise. It was hottest when both suns only barely kissed the horizon, painting the sands in glittering shades of blue and purple. For the longest time, it was only sea she had ever known.
One two-sun morning, the sands had been painted in red, shades of crimson and scarlet soaking the golden sands like watercolor.
Tatooine was a bundle of nerves, a nexus of a crashing, shimmering ocean, tearing its children and disciples to fate-binding shreds.
She never saw a two-sun morning again.

It seemed her worst days were the most beautiful. They had such beautiful sunrises and such beautiful tragedies.
Nevarro had such beautiful sunrises. They were desolate and jagged.

Mandalore had the same kind of beautiful sunrises. She used to watch the sun rise while she had perched on the railing of the capital city docks, feet mindlessly suspended over stories and stories of a steep plummet, certain death if she fell. She had never come close to falling.
She would watch the horizon until the city stirred to life, shops opening as the sun filtered through the tall windows of the metal metropolis. Only then would she return to her dorms, slipping through the crowds like a shadow without her armor.

Training was the second thing of the day.
"When it comes down to it," the stern woman spoke that day, her posture stiff. She was an retired, proud cabur of the regent, an honor for most, a duty for the clan. "Your head will be pounding and you will be reduced to your basest instincts." She paced past the line of those in her class. They had heard this before. "This is why we train; not to memorize the names of sets, but to rewrite your code, to ingrain the knowledge to fight deeper than your knowledge on how to breath, in the hopes that you will survive—" She stopped herself short. The retired cabur left the last words unspoken but they hung in the air, shimmering and weighing the class down. The Empire. The clan remained in open but peaceful opposition to Imperial presence, an attempt to uphold tradition in uncertain times.
The woman paused her pace at the end of the line, her head hung down.
It felt like a light extinguished, like a sea rose and clashed around the class, drowning them in a cyclone. The not-yet red mandalorian stumbled. The retired cabur's head jerked to her. The old, stern woman narrowed her eyes before barking a command to the other instructors.
The silence was deafening, pounding in her ears. The instructors switched their blaster to the lethal setting, barking a command to the class to arm themselves.
It was over. It was so loud. They wouldn't all make it out.

Survival had always been a game of desperation and wits. Foundlings were good at that. The red mandalorian was good at that.

━━✶━━

The red mandalorian raised her head as they approached the Imperial camp. She was stripped of her weapons to make the bait more believable. Cara had a small blade concealed to give the the younger woman, but that was it.

The red mandalorian would have to make it work.
She tilted her head, considering options in her mind. Her brain rushed, overwhelmed with sounds like crashing waves no one else heard, trembling and singing like a plucked string.

They had arrived.

The storm trooper didn't look up. "Chain code?" he asked, disinterested.
"I have some gifts for the boss."
"Chain code," the trooper snapped, looking up. The trooper paused, glancing back and forth between the two mandalorians. She swayed a little on her feet to sell it.
The trooper tutted under his helmet. "I'll give you 100 credits for both the helmets." The red mandalorian flinched almost imperceptibly and Cara's grip tightened.

Karga gave a forced, booming laugh. "Not a chance!" He lowered his voice. "They're going on my wall." Mikata jerked his head towards the man holding him.
The red mandalorian let out a slow and steady breath, picking at the stitching on her gloves. Her head ached. Mikata said something she didn't catch.

The group kept moving, and the red mandalorian stumbled on the sand. Everything felt muffled, too bright and too much. Her breath came in quick, harsh gasps. This was gonna go bad.
Cara spoke then. "Calm down little Mando. I got you."
The red mandalorian was shaking. She was shaking. Her stomach twisted in knots.

━━✶━━

The old man caught sight of Din's partner and something in his eyes gleamed. "Ah," he said, and he beckoned with his spindly hand.  Two stormtroopers yanked her from Cara's grip and shoved her forwards. His partner fell to her knees at the Client's feet. He gripped a horn on her helmet, pushing her head back to look directly into her visor. Din tried to move towards her when a blaster dug into his side, halting his movements. "The last of an extinct species." The client turned her head to the side, tracing a thumb along the forged teeth that adorned her helmet. "I am grateful for the opportunity to see one of your clan." Greef shot her a pained glance from his seat across from the client.
The Client looked up. He waved a hand and two stormtroopers pull Din's partner up, dragging her back to her place besides Din.
"I would like to see the Child."