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it wasn’t just a gash. And it wasn’t a hole.
    It was moving, opening wider and wider the closer he drew to it.
    And suddenly Boba knew what it was—
    A mouth.

CHAPTER NINE
    The fungus was like some horrible hybrid of mushroom and spider. The folds enveloping Boba were like a web.
    And the mouth—well, it was exactly like a mouth! Boba could smell it, the rotting scent of whatever its last meal had been. And he could see it, row upon row of crimson, razor-sharp
teeth stretching deep inside the mushroom’s trunk.
    Now what?
    He tried kicking again.
    Nothing. He was completely immobilized. The fungal tree’s mouth was only meters away now. Boba glared at it through his helmet. He couldn’t move them, but still his hands clenched
angrily.
    Wait a minute
…
    Just beneath one hand he could feel the tip of something hard and smooth: his Stokhli spray stick. Boba had taken it from a Stokhli nomad who’d given him a hard time in Mos Eisley one day.
He’d stuck it on his weapons belt and, truth to tell, he’d almost forgotten about it, despite the fact that spray sticks cost a lot of credits. It was small and slender, with a stun pad
at the very bottom and spray mist cartridges a few millimeters above.
    Blllaaaerghhh
…
    A sound came from the fungal tree, a disgusting moan of pleasure that Boba interpreted as “dinnertime!”
    “Not yet,” he grunted. He clenched his hand again, his fingertips grazing the spray stick. He had no way of taking aim at the fungus, no way of adjusting the spray mist net or the
electrical charge it delivered. If it backfired, Boba would find himself entangled all over again, still unable to move—
    Not that it would matter!
    Aaaaergghhhh!
    A pale purple tongue protruded from the mushroom’s slobbering mouth. Flecks of foul-smelling saliva splattered across Boba’s helmet. With every ounce of strength he had, Boba focused
on moving his finger toward the spray stick.
    Just an iota, just the merest fraction—
    And—
    There was a muffled report. At Boba’s side the spray stick shuddered as though it would explode—and then it did!
    “Gotcha!” crowed Boba.
    A shimmering mist erupted from the stick’s tip. It surrounded Boba, but it did not adhere to him. Instead it fixed itself to the slimy membrane that wrapped him like a cocoon. It formed a
second web, a net strong enough to hold a charging myntor.
    A powerful electrical surge pulsed through the spray mist net.
Good thing I have my helmet and body armor!
Boba thought.
    As the pulsing charge stunned its prey, Boba flung himself for ward. Around him the fungus membrane slackened then recoiled.
    He was free!
    He heard an unhappy slurping sound, then a sort of sizzling groan. The next instant he was on the ground, rolling away from the mushroom tree. He stopped himself, then clambered to his feet. His
hand felt for the stun stick, disabling it.
    “Well, that came in handy,” he said.
    A few meters off, the mushroom tree quivered and moaned. The stun-net covered its mouth. Its pale tongue poked pathetically at the webbing, while above it the tree’s umbrella crown
drooped. “Only a great bounty hunter could have pulled that off!” boasted Boba as he brushed himself off. “And—”
    He stiffened. His hand hovered above his blaster as he turned, as slowly as he dared, to face the creature behind him.
    “And only a fool would have approached a flimmel tree during feeding hours,” it said coolly.
    “Who are you?” demanded Boba.
    But he might have asked,
What are you?
    The creature regarded him calmly. It was reptilian, a little taller than Boba and with long, muscular arms and legs clad in what looked like a camo uniform of purple and gray. Its large,
almond-shaped eyes were coldly intelligent, its lipless mouth curved in a slight smile to reveal sharp teeth. Its wiry forearms were curled around a blaster rifle.
    And the blaster was pointed right at Boba Fett.

CHAPTER TEN
    “Who am I?” repeated the creature. “On