It was getting close to bedtime and Aavruun was currently wrestling with his brother, Krawruuk.
Krawruuk held the advantage this round, one tiny paw hooked in Aavruun's ear in a very proud victory grip after a feint that had gone completely sideways. They tended to split their victories, each bout pushing both of them. Every time one found a new angle or trick, the other adapted, which made fighting another version of himself who thought the same way strangely fun.
To their parents, it looked like two rowdy cubs burning off the last of their energy. Carruck had paused from checking his gear just to watch them roll and grapple across the woven floor, a pleased rumble sitting in his chest as their mother stirred the evening meal nearby. From an adult view, it looked like healthy roughhousing—very typical for young males among their people.
For Aavruun and Krawruuk, every tumble carried purpose. Wookiee cubs arrived with strong grips and sturdy limbs, able to cling, pull, and brace themselves far earlier than human infants. Pushing against each other's weight, bracing stances, grabbing wrists and fur, all of it built balance, coordination, and raw strength into their small bodies. Until their frames grew enough for structured drills and real forms, this kind of wrestling served as their resistance training—a first step toward the warrior lives they both intended to build.
After dinner, when Asharra and Carruck settled into their own rest, Aavruun and Krawruuk lay side by side in their cradle, fur brushing, minds already easing toward that quiet place between sleep and thought.
Instead of reaching for the Force like other nights, they reached for each other.
The system stirred.
CONSCIOUSNESS PERK: READY
EXPERIENCE SHARE WINDOW: 7 DAYS
COOLDOWN: 30 DAYS
To anyone else, it would've sounded strange—sharing experiences when they lived in the same house, saw the same faces, heard the same voices. But Caleb's old instincts understood the value. In his first life, the difference between a decent soldier and an exceptional one came from how deeply they understood their environment. Every edge mattered.
This perk was exactly that: an edge.
The system responded to focus. Together, they aimed at one thing—language. The last thirty days sifted down into a clean slice: seven days of moments where voices, tones, and meanings had filled their ears.
A mindscape opened—time held still, no heartbeat, no branch-creak, only memory. In that frozen span they both relived those seven days from the other's perspective. Every word Asharra spoke over them, every rumbling joke from Carruck, every visit from kin replayed in full. Rhythm, inflection, context—all of it layered together.
It hit like a massive data dump, but a pleasant one. Aavruun felt his brother process the stream at the same time he did, their understandings folding over each other. What one noticed—small shifts in tone, repeated phrases, patterns of greeting—the other absorbed as well.
When the sharing eased and the cradle came back into focus, they understood their home tongue deeper than they had an instant before. Not just sounds, but structure. Intent. Habit. The Force helped glue it all together, letting meaning sit heavier behind each word.
They still couldn't speak—mouths and throats weren't ready—but comprehension sat far ahead of any normal Wookiee cub their age.
At GRADE E, the perk showed just a hint of what it could do.
His thoughts drifted to what higher GRADE might mean. Krawruuk could pour himself into a different track entirely—spend days chasing forms, or studying engines, or shadowing hunters—while Aavruun focused on something else, both of them feeding progress back into the same future. Two lives training side by side, one overall result. The idea tugged at him every time that upgrade cost glowed at the edge of his awareness. Burning away life this early felt like stepping off a high branch without checking the drop, though, so he filed the urge away and treated GRADE E as a base to build on later.
The next morning, their mother padded into the sleeping alcove and scooped a cub under each arm, her fur still warm from her own rest. She rumbled softly in Shyriiwook that they were going to the market.
Both brothers answered with excited cries and flailing paws.
Asharra paused a moment, holding them close, and studied their faces. Sometimes she swore they understood every word she said. Bright eyes, alert ears, the way their gazes followed her when she talked—very sharp cubs, she thought.
Aside from the constant tussles with each other and the endless urge to explore anything within reach, her cubs stayed calm. They cried for hunger, almost never for comfort. More than once she and Carruck had spoken about it in low tones at night. Part of her wanted to bring it up with the elders. Another part felt tired of hearing the word auspicious attached to everything they did.
Blessed or not, they were still cubs who needed raising.
She shifted them into the carrier across her back, fur brushing their faces as she settled the straps, and stepped out onto the broad branchway that linked their home to the main village platforms. Morning light filtered through the wroshyr canopy as she headed toward the market tiers, where Carruck waited after leaving early to help with trade and preparations for the day.
The village of Clan Thrakvorr spread around her in layered platforms and bridges. Broad wroshyr limbs arched outward, each one wide as a city street, carrying homes, workshops, and gathering spaces. Ropes and woven rails lined the walkways, shaped from tough local fibers and polished by thousands of paws. Glow-vines clung to bark and structure, their faint light still visible in the morning shade where the canopy stretched thick overhead.
Far below, the deep levels vanished into a green mist. The old ones called that place the Shadowlands. Aavruun felt the depth through Asharra's feet, every step a tiny vibration through vast living wood.
The path toward the market wound along an outer branch. Air moved freely there, warm and rich with scents—sap, cooking smoke, spice, fur, distant sea-damp carried from far-off coasts. Other Wookiees moved along the walkway: hunters with harnesses and gear, craftsmen with tool-belts clinking, elders with decorated braids and carved beads that clicked softly when they walked. Many paused to offer Asharra a greeting, a grin, or a low, pleased sound at the sight of the two cubs perched at her shoulders.
Aavruun felt the attention through the Force as much as through his ears. Warmth rolled toward them in waves. Pride. Affection. A spark of reverence at the sight of black and white fur together.
The market itself sat on a broad, reinforced platform anchored into several massive trunks, a woven circle of life and trade. Stalls and workbenches ringed the open center. Heavy wooden frames supported awnings stitched from treated hides and thick cloth. Smoke from cooking pits curled upward, blending with the evergreen scent of wroshyr leaves and the sharper tang of worked metal.
On one side, hunters traded racks of dried meat, cured hides, and bone tools. Nearby, baskets overflowed with fruits and broad leaves from higher branches and small fungus bulbs from the safer edges of the lower levels. Farther along, artisans displayed carved talons, intricate wooden figures, furniture joints, and sections of shaped bark ready for installation in new homes.
Toward the inner ring, the work grew more technical. Power cells, cable spools, sensor plates, and disassembled blaster parts lay arranged on mats and low tables. Skilled mechanics and tinkerers of Clan Thrakvorr and neighboring groups repaired Republic equipment, refitted freighter components, and assembled their own designs. Wookiees possessed a gift for engineering and computer work; traders from across the sector brought damaged gear here, trusting thick hands and sharp minds to coax machines back into life.
High above the market platform, a separate set of braces supported a small landing pad. The Republic valued Kashyyyk for reasons beyond timber and labor. The planet sat in a vital Mid Rim corridor, close to rising tensions along the Outer Rim, with clean lines toward several major hyperlanes. Wroshyr forests hid strongholds easily, yet sturdy branches also supported communications arrays, sensor stations, and supply depots. A steady hum from distant engines marked the presence of visiting Republic transports and liaison craft, visible at times between leaves as they rose through the atmosphere.
Credits and trade markers passed from paw to paw around Asharra as she moved. Some exchanges used formal currency tied to Republic standard, others used direct barter between families—rope for medicine, weapon repairs for structural work on a home, dried meat for starship parts. Every trade strengthened the clan's web of obligation and support.
Asharra stepped into the open center, ears flicking as she scanned the crowd. Aavruun felt the instant she found her mate. Carruck stood near a weapons stall, towering even among other warriors, fur catching dappled light through the canopy. His broad shoulders relaxed slightly when he spotted his family. Pride and quiet joy rolled off him like a solid wave as he strode forward to meet them, the market's layered noise wrapping around the four of them in a warm, living hum.