Kalik picked his way through the aftermath of the battle. The jungle floor was littered with bodies, but for every Mando corpse there were at least five aruetiise. It had been a hard and bitter fight, and victory had a steep price. He recognized, with a pang of regret, Runi's brown beskar'gam among the fallen, and there, against that tree, was Verbur's crumpled form. He pressed on, searching for any hint of Sarad's familiar pale green plates. He hadn't seen her among the wounded, and he feared the worst.
Footsteps from behind took him by surprise, and he turned to see Shev following him, fresh spatters caking his crimson armor and medpack slung over one shoulder. Stepping over a severed arm, Shev laid a hand on his shoulder. "Kal-"
"I'm not leaving until I find her." He shrugged off his friend's hand and continued making his way through the battlefield. Shev followed silently, but Kalik chose not to acknowledge his presence. He didn't want to say anything else until he knew.
A glint of green caught his eye, and he hurried over, but it was only the underside of a particularly large fern, crushed and trampled by muddy boots. "Kal," Shev tried again, and Kalik ignored him. The animal noises of the jungle were slowly returning after the silence that had followed the battle. A bird trilled noisily in a nearby tree, and Kalik raised his blaster rifle and fired a shot into the canopy. The noise stopped.
"Kal," Shev said again, and pointed. Kalik followed the line of his finger, and his stomach plummeted. He hurried over, dropping to his knees beside Sarad's motionless form and slipping off his helmet. She was propped against a tree trunk, half sitting, and still clutching her Merr-Sonn Thunderbolt. He gently removed her helmet and eased the heavy blaster from her grip, cradling her in his arms. Her black hair made a shocking contrast with her features, unnaturally pale under her tan. Her face was calm, eyes shut, and she could have been sleeping but for the ragged slashes across her abdomen and the blaster burns scoring her arms.
Shev had knelt too, opening his medpack, but seeing the look on his friend's face, he shut it. Kalik lowered his head, pressing his lips against her cool forehead as tears burned their way down his cheek. It seemed impossible- just this morning, he had kissed her forehead in this same spot, and she had laughed and demanded a real kiss.
"Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la," Shev murmured, closing his eyes. Kalik didn't answer. He didn't trust his voice, and what would he have said anyway? He ran a shaking hand along her jaw, brushing his tears off her cheek, and took in a long, shuddering breath.
"Where's-" His voice was a croak, and he coughed and tried again. "Where's Nuhur?"
"Still with Dral, tending the wounded," Shev answered.
"She'll want-" Kalik's voice failed again. Her mother's armor. He couldn't bring himself to say it, to admit she had really marched far away, as the old phrase said. He ran his fingers under the plate covering her collarbone, gently detaching it, then removed his own, switching the two pieces of beskar'gam. The pale green of her plate stood out against his own silver and black armor, providing a vivid contrast.
Shev stood and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, and this time Kalik left it there. "Come on," the scarlet-clad man said quietly. "Nuhur will want you to tell her, and you need that burn looked at."
Kalik slid his arms under Sarad's knees and shoulders and stood slowly, her head drooping against his chest. "Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc. Ni partayli, gar darasuum," he whispered tenderly into her ear. "Jate taab, Sarad."