Hoth: Blood and Ice

Noodling, a form of fishing which involves sticking one's hand in a mud hole and waggling your fingers to lure a catfish to bite one's hand. That's what Jub'lub felt he was doing. Sure, a catfish bite didn't hurt much, but there's always the worry when sticking your hand in a cold, dark place.
Force knows I'd rather really be noodling. He sighs.
But to his surprise, he didn't feel out of place amongst the slaves. This was his childhood after all, a lot colder, but toiling under a hot sun wasn't much different than toiling in ice and snow.

He was glad to have found Zan'ja, she seemed to be well considering everything. Bonz was another boon he hadn't anticipated. The wisdom of an elder was always something Jub'lub valued in high regard. The first thing on Jub'lub's mind was getting to know Zan'ja a bit, and see where they stand in the hierarchy here, and what threats they may be up against.

Jub'lub went to Zan'ja. "How are you holding up? Your mother has been looking for you and worried sick."

She smiled and said, "It's a beautiful morning, Jub'lub, still have our health as much as that is."

"Have you heard anything of your brother Torr? I hope to get you back to your mother, as well as your brother." He leans in to whisper, "what can you tell me of the Black Stripes?"