It was penance of a sort... that or irony, and Obi-Wan still wasn’t sure which. His old pupil would have laughed at the sight: a Jedi master, nearly naked in his barren home, beating sand from his robes in futile rebellion against the ever-encroaching desert.

He would have laughed even harder at the look on Beru’s face when she appeared with an ill-timed gift of bantha milk and wild honey, but Obi-Wan had never approved of his padawan’s weakness for ribald humor.