Author's Note: A drabble set during Djaq's first few weeks with the gang. Written for Intercomm at livejoural.

oOo

"Freedom"

They grumble about weather, food, isolation.

She doesn't.

They admire her bravery through hardships.

She doesn't admit she isn't brave...but content. In a way they cannot understand.

Every harrowing escape, rain-soaked bedroll, bowl of weak pottage reminds them they're dead men.

It tells her she's alive. She knows what it is to walk through life without hope, identity...or gender.

They live half-lives...on the edge of civilization. Forced deprivation and loneliness.

Yet only here has she learned to live fully. Here she has choices. She chooses to love every minute.

To them it is exile...To her, freedom.

oOo