He had forgotten that Pydyr was the place that had invented the healing stick. It had been used all over the galaxy long before the bacta tank came into being, and some thought the healing stick was much better. He found his upstairs in the house he was staying in. The healing stick was long, thin, and white. When rubbed against a surface, a white residue remained behind. The computer had assured him the residue had healing properties. What he was learning, as he gingerly applied the stick to his injured back, was that it had soothing properties. Most of the pain from the burn faded. If only he could repair his hand. He had peeled most of the artificial skin off, but the moving metal parts reminded him, a bit too painfully, of the price he had paid to become a Jedi. He was nearly done with the healing stick when he felt a disturbance in the Force. A familiar presence was nearby. This was the presence he had felt on Telti, the presence that had haunted him when he arrived in Almanian space, the presence that had lured him from Coruscant to here, this desolate side of nowhere.
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