R’hask Sei’lar looked over his shoulder nervously, his tan and brown fur rippling, as he walked down some of the shadier parts of Munto. Behind him, his first mate, Jorge, followed him at a respectful distance, keeping an eye out for anyone tracking the Bothan. Sei’lar ducked into one of the shadowy alleys nearby, Jorge following a few minutes later. Had he done so in full daylight, he might have been noticed, but in the dusky sunset the streets weren’t as full as they were during the day. “Neeves, I’m glad you made it,” said Sei’lar. “I never thought it would have come to this,” Jorge said.