Storm clouds loomed on the horizon as Raen Benax lingered atop one of the great hills that towered over the eastern plains of Alderaan. Standing under a withered pine tree, the seventeen-year-old was protected from the rain by using the aged tree as cover. This protected his black and gray robes and brown overcoat from getting soaked by the torrential rainfall that encompassed the entire region. His dark brown hair was very neatly cut, and he had no facial hair covering his lightly tanned, emotionless face. “Here I am!” Raen’s own gruff voice called back. “Who are you?” Raen asked. *** *** “Yes.”