Steady rain peppered the tent as dense clouds obscured the moon. Naluma luxuriated in the sound, the smell, and the Force. She snuggled against Luke in their bedroll. As she felt him drifting to sleep, his breathing settled into an even pattern and the fatigue of the hike overtook him.

His arms clutched her, waking her.

"Luke, honey?"

Flashes blinded her.

His eyes snapped open as a muffled moan emerged.

Naluma entwined her arms around him and nuzzled her nose against his neck. "Hey, goofball, you're worse than the Younglings in a storm."

His breathing labored. His body spasmed. His back arched. He bit his knuckles to mute the scream.

"Sh. Don't wake the Padawan." His terror now spilled into her as a chill shot down her spine.

Thunder rumbled across the grove. The sharp tang of ozone stung the air as heavy drops pelted their tent.

"Oh, Luke, you're scaring me." She stroked his trembling hand as another bolt flashed. "Just hold on."

She rubbed his back, sending the Force tendrils to his fear. "Luke, stay with me." The energy flowed into his panic, his fear, his suffering. "It's only a storm."

A few deep breaths later, he muttered, "'Luma, it's him. He's here."

She put her finger to his lips and shook her head. "Just a dream."

Another flash arced, illuminating the tent for a heartbeat.

He shuddered again.

"It's normal—" A chill seeped into her bones.

With the Force, Luke pushed the bedroll off and grabbed his boots. "No. He's behind it. I feel his presence." 

She wove her fingers between his and squeezed. "Palpatine's dead, Luke. It's only a visi—"

His second boot slid home as he donned his tunic. He shook his head as another wave of lightning and thunder crashed above them. "I know what I saw, what I heard, what I felt, Naluma. He's coming for m—"

He focused his gaze on her, his blue eyes piercing into her soul. He placed his hand on her belly, warmth of the Force extending from him to her. "No. For her?" For a second, his face lit up before he grabbed his lightsaber and scurried from the tent. "He can't have her."

Naluma clambered after him. Together they ignited their sabers, emerald and amethyst blades phasing in the pounding rain.

As the magenta bolts snaked down, they met the onslaught of Force-lightning with crossed blades, pushing it back into the roiling clouds.

The rumbles of thunder transformed into a hideous cackle. "Foolish Jedi."

Teeth gritted, Jedi Masters Skywalker and Fau pushed out with their hands and launched bolts at the melee. A pulse. A lull. Another pulse.

With joined hands, their synergistic strategy scattered the clouds across the plain.

Drenched and heaving, Luke turned to Naluma and held her face in his hands. "A girl? We're having a little girl?"

Naluma nodded with a smile.

"What are we going to call her?"

"Hope. She's our only Hope."

Word count according to Google Docs: 492.