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There are as many Ekkreth stories as there are slaves on Tatooine, which is to say, stories without number and more everyday. This is the story of how Ekkreth met a cousin to the People.
One day, Ekkreth was walking through the market and saw an outlander garbed in the wargear of Depur, but unlike the rest of Depur's overseers, who walked freely and struck the People with word and whip, this one was bound in heavy chains.
Ekkreth knew the outlander was one of many, for Ekkreth had fought alongside the outlander's siblings. They were born of war, fighting across the stars for serve People and Depur alike.
Ekkreth's brothers -- for they were family, as all who fought for freedom were -- had told them whispers of the chain-blind overseers. Armour painted red and faces hidden, they carried out Depur's will. Feet heavy and faces blank, they walked Depur's halls and knelt before his gilded throne.
Ekkreth had not seen the Suns or Moons for much time, but they never forgot where they came from, so they watched the chained outlander, searching for a weakness in Depur's binds.
They found it in the outlander's paints.
Ekkreth knew of the People's paints, gentle strokes across sun-stung skin. The outlander siblings painted not their skin, but their armour: because to Depur all slaves were the same and their souls thirsted for colour the same way their hearts did freedom and their mouths water.
Ekkreth wore a smile when they walked through the deepest of Depur's halls. Only the outlander siblings roamed these corridors, and they knew Ekkreth was a friend.
The outlander Ekkreth was searching for was talking with a sister when they found him. His armour had the most paint, for it marked him as Depur's favourite and protected his fellow chained. The outlander had named himself Fox, after the trickiest of creatures not native to Tatooine. Neither of them were free yet, but Ekkreth had vowed to make it so. For they was Anakin Ekkreth, the far-traveler and slave who makes free, and they bowed to no Depur.
"Anakin," Fox called, face laid bare. These outlanders all shared a face, but Ekkreth was no Depur: they needed not to see the face to know one's name. "I was told that you were the one to ask about tattoos?" Ekkreth asked the sister at Fox's side. The sister raised her head, surprised to have been addressed by one of his status. "I am," she told him. "Are you looking for one?"
Ekkreth had not received their paints, freed as young as they were and ever so far from home. But Ekkreth was just as much a sibling of the outlanders as they were of the People, they knew that armour paints were not the only way they proclaimed their freedom.
Ekkreth told the sister that they wanted a tattoo of the flight paths. Both outlanders leaned in, for chain-blind as they were not even Depur could stifle such curious souls. "What are the flight paths?" The sister asked, eyes wide and tone awed. She was young, and still watched the stars above her. Stars she thought she would never see in person.
Ekkreth saw this all silently, and took note.
Instead, they told the outlander siblings of the palaces built by the callused hands of the People for Depur's pleasure. They spoke of cold desert nights and whispered stories to children. They spoke of runners, blessed by the skies and sand and oldest of krayt dragons, and how they stole away into Depur's palace, Depur's prison, and whisked the chained away into the night.
Ekkreth had not been freed this way. They had been freed by an outlander's bet and their own wit, but they knew that these siblings needed these stories. Stories held power, and with each story told they watched as the light grew in the eyes of the outlanders.
"You trust me to tell this story?" The sister asked, voice quiet. Ekkreth knew it was not their place to tell of such secrets to outlanders, but the sand in their skin and the wind in their hair urged them onwards. "I do," they told her. "I carry the desert in my bones. I would like to carry the stars in a similar way."
Fox laughed like a man who had never heard such a sound before. He had been quiet for Ekkreth's stories, for he knew the weight of a vow of the People. It was not written in blood or water, but they carried it with them all the same.
E kav masatel akku.
This outlander understood the weight of these words. He stood before Depur to hide his siblings' flights and allowed them their pleasures under the safety of the night. Ekkreth knew that these siblings held the key to their own freedom, even if they did not yet know what was the lock.
They would discover in time. All chained knew the winds' patience, and Ekkreth, while far from home, had never forgotten their own shackles.
Ekkreth and Fox watched the sister begin her design; sprawling patterns of constellations and runner wings.
"How can you speak so easily about this to us?" Fox asked, for they shared a Depur and both knew what would become of them if this was discovered. Ekkreth did not know how to explain in the outlander's language, and while he was chained he knew not the language of the People either. They could speak of their silent vow, of the shared grief of siblings lost, of heavy chains.
Instead, Ekkreth decided to shrug.
"It is easy to speak around you," Ekkreth admitted. "And there is no better gift than giving someone themselves."
Fox knew this to be true and could only laugh.
The outlander siblings would continue to be Depur's overseers and follow Depur's orders, but now Ekkreth knew the outlander was as cunning as his name. They would watch Depur closely, and strike where they could.
But for now?
For now, Ekkreth would wait.