A few weeks had passed. Life had settled into a steady rhythm none of the travelers had expected it to. They rebuilt. They learned. They laughed.

When the construction had reached a point where Doc was no longer useful, she began exploring. Every day she would go a little farther, documenting the flora and fauna of Sorgan. She took notes on her digital pad, documenting the habitats and growing settings of the wildlife.

On most days it rained. It poured. Sometimes it would rain so heavily she could no longer see her footprints in the dirt. But every day, she ventured out alone. The village children had taken a keen interest in Nala and the child. They would spend their days frolicking and basking in the glow of the sun or dancing in the rain. Cara preferred to help the farmers with what she could and drink spotchka. She was enjoying the retired life. Doc never asked the Mandalorian to accompany her, but she was certain what his answer would be.

It was one of those nights. The air was still and cool from the rain of that day. The sun was low to where Doc could not see it through the trees. She began to turn back, feet crunching against the wet bark and sticks that lined her path back to the village. Lightening bugs began to appear from the night, dancing around one another with delight and grace.

She heard a buzz go off in her pocket. Doc rummaged around with her belt buckles before pulling out a long-range transmitter. It was only good for one-way communications, and only three people in the known universe had her comm code. Doc clicked it on, the image of a woman appearing before her.

"Doc, I need your help. You know I wouldn't be contacting you unless it was an emergency. The crisis on Onglar-4 is getting out of hand. Thousands of people are dying every day. It's only a matter of time before the whole colony is infected. Please, I need your help. I've provided coordinates and medical logs along with this transmission. Please."

The transmission began to repeat. Doc clicked it off, silence once again filling the woods around her. With the warm nights came the mist, enshrouding her among the silhouettes of trees. She recognized the woman - it was Dr. Yonda, a galaxy-renowned scientist who had worked with Doc many years ago. Based on the transmission, her hair had grayed considerably and her eyes were tired from countless sleepless nights. Doc sighed and leaned against a tree. She lit a spice stick - her last spice stick - and thought as the sounds of the night came alive.

Dr. Yonda was smart enough to know her limits. Doc had seen her fair share of plagues, making her what some would call an expert. The worst she had seen had erupted on a small inner rim moon that wiped out half the population. Dr. Yonda and herself had been on the responding team.

But things were more complicated now than they had been then. She, the Child, and the Mandalorian were on the run from a small army of bounty hunters. What if she left and something happened? What if she didn't leave and the people of Onglar-4 never got the help they needed?

They need you.

A voice whispered in the darkness. Doc's head whirled around, trying to see its speaker. No one was there. She closed her eyes tightly and reopened them. She even tried pinching herself. The world was still around her save for the dancing fireflies.

Go to them.

Doc spun on her heels. The voice came from behind her. She pulled out the blaster the Mandalorian gave her and pointed it into the darkness. Her heart was beating so fast she could hear it in her ears.

The Force will be with you.

Doc began to sprint out of the woods. She was fed up with everything. As she came to the forest's edge, she frantically searched her person for another spice stick, but she had left her last remaining one on the damp forest floor, dropped and forgotten about in the panic. She tried to compose herself before entering back into the village, but she just never seemed to be able to catch her breath.

Some of the townspeople were gathered around a campfire in the center of town, the Mandalorian and Cara included. Nala lay curled up at the feet of the Mandalorian, ears perking up as she heard Doc's approaching footsteps. The Mandalorian looked up first, followed by Omera who was seated next to him.

"Doc!" she called, gesturing to the seat across from her. "Join us, please."

"That's alright," she said uncomfortably, kicking the dirt around with her toes. "I have some reading I want to do."

"You look like you've seen a ghost," said Cara, drinking a handle of spotchka.

Doc tried to laugh it off. "Oh, you know how the dark likes to play tricks on the eyes. Turns out it was just a small rodent jumping in the trees."

The rest of the group laughed side from the Mandalorian, who gave no indication of humor. Instead, he just kept staring at Doc.

"Well, you're more than welcome to join us," said Omera.

"Perhaps next time," Doc said, taking her leave. Nala left the side of the Mandalorian and followed Doc back into the barn. Doc made sure to drape the curtain back over the door before clicking on her transponder. The message played over and over again, haunting her.

Nala whined and nuzzled the comm device out of her hand, knocking it off and to the ground. Doc sat on the edge of her cot and put her face into her hands.

"What should I do?" she asked Nala, who only gazed up at her with sorry eyes. "I can't leave the kid and the Mandalorian to the whims of the universe, but I can't leave all those people to die."

She scratched at the palms of her hands, desperate for answers.

"I heard him," she said just above a whisper. "I heard him." She unconsciously kept reaching for spice sticks that didn't exist. Nala pushed her snout between Doc's hand and pocket. Doc heard heavy footsteps approaching the hut. She pulled out her digital pad and pretended as though she had been reading the whole time. The Mandalorian pushed the curtain to the side, the child asleep in his arms. He gently put the creature into his crib before taking a seat next to Doc.

"Everything... alright?" he asked. Doc looked up from her pad, trying to look unamused.

"Of course," she lied, pushing a smile to her face. "Everything alright with you?"

"I've been thinking," he began.

"Well, that's never a good thing."

"I've been thinking," he said again, ignoring her comment. "He seems happy here." He nodded over to the sleeping child.

Doc glanced over. The child had been more chipper than usual. The attention he had been getting from the village was relentless. He seemed to eat it up.

"Yeah, he does," she agreed. "Where are you going with this?"

"The Crest is no place for a little one," he said slowly. Doc nodded.

"You think we should leave him here," she said. "I don't know, Mando. It would only be a matter of time before someone caught up to him."

"Sorgan is so far removed from everything," he said. "I've already talked with Omera about it. She said she would look after him."

Doc sighed. "It sounds like you've made up your mind then."

"I'm leaving first thing in the morning," he said. "The offer stands for you to join me, but I would understand why you would want to stay."

"And you don't want to stay?" she asked, leaning forward onto her knees. "You seem... relaxed here. Content, even."

"I don't belong here," he said.

"Neither do I," she admitted. "Truth be told, I was ready to leave the day after we took care of the raiders."

"You just want more spice sticks," he said. She gave a half-hearted smile.

"You caught me," she said, lying back on her cot. "Though, maybe it's time to quit that stuff. It's not very economical."

"How does a doctor even become addicted to that stuff?" Asked the Mandalorian as he mirrored her movements. They both stared up at the ceiling of the barn, eyes following the intricate weaving of the woven palms.

"It's a bit of a long story," she said. "Maybe another time." She reached over and dimmed the burning lantern until its embers died out. She rolled over on her side to face the wall.

"Night, Mando."

"Goodnight."

"See, little one? You want to bend the reeds like this and blow."

The next morning was clear and bright. Swallows fluttered about the skies with the bugs that occupied the rain season. Doc and the child were sitting by the edge of one of the krill ponds, picking at dried reeds and watching the families of krill as they swam by.

Doc plucked one of the reeds, bent it at the top, and blew across the hollow bore. A sharp whistle sound came out, one that made the child giggle. She handed him the reed so that he could try, but he just put his entire mouth on it.

The Mandalorian was off somewhere, discussing logistics with Omera. She was disappointed they hadn't taken more of a liking to one another. Anytime Doc would ask him about it, the Mandalorian would just say they were good acquaintances.

"Wouldn't you like to be more than acquaintances?" she would press, but he would only reply with a hard stare.

Doc had to admit - life was peaceful here. With the raiders gone and the village rebuilt, there would be plenty of reason for them to stay. The child would live a long life here under the protection of the village.

CrAacK.

Doc's head spun around, her body already shielding the child. Her whole body was on edge, eyes desperately scanning the area to see where the shot had come from. She glanced over the child, seeing no wounds to uncover. She looked over herself. Nothing.

"Mando?!" she called. She picked up the child and carried him around as she searched frantically. People were cowering behind anything they could find, eyes as desperate as her own. Nala found her first, barking and begging her to follow. Doc complied, not needing much convincing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the flash of beskar. Doc detoured and met with the Mandalorian and Omera. She handed the child to Omera.

"Watch him," she ordered before kicking off after Nala. The Mandalorian followed, but he was not as fast.

Nala led them through the woods, following the direction the shot had come from. About a hundred feet into the forest and Doc saw Cara standing over a smoking body, blaster still in hand. She held up a key fob.

"They'll keep coming for him," she said as the Mandalorian came up beside Doc. The Mandalorian and Doc shared an uncomfortable look, one that said they knew what they needed to do. Her eyes glanced back at the village. So peaceful. So unsuspecting. He would have been happy here. The Mandalorian took the fob from Cara and smashed it into the ground, halting the incessant beeping.

They walked back with heavy hearts and minds. Had they left an hour earlier, they would have never known. He would have been dead and they would have been none the wiser. A bitter taste left itself in Doc's mouth. A taste that was sicker than any poison.

The child was still safer in their hands.

They kept the goodbyes brief as a new sense of urgency filled them.

"Take care of yourselves," Cara had said, clasping arms with each of them. "Try not to get yourselves killed."

"Always the goal," said Doc.

"You know where to find me if you need anything."

The village children were able to say their goodbyes, too, but the child kept watching as their cart disappeared into the forest. He cooed and babbled as they drove off, not completely understanding why they had to leave. The life of the village disappeared behind thick trees, replaced with the bird calls and crickets of the forest.

"Do you think he'll ever learn to talk?" asked the Mandalorian. Doc knew he was just trying to distract from the reality of the situation. They were now permanent parents of a small green goblin.

She turned back so her eyes were on the road ahead of them. Nala sat between them, eyes steadily on the road with the wind brushing her hair back. Her tongue hung out loosely.

"Probably," she admitted. "Everyone keeps equating him to a baby, but I would put him more as an early toddler. He seems to understand everything we're saying to him - at least on some level. I tried searching medical databases on anything matching his description, but I only found one other entry."

"Anything of value in the entry?"

"Nothing pertinent to how the kid will develop," she admitted. "Just that they were a small, green bipedal who lived to be over eight hundred years old."

"Eight hundred?"

"Yeah, I know. When I read that I almost fell out of my seat. It doesn't exactly line up proportionately with human lifespans, but I'd say he's farther developed than we give him credit for."

"Do you think it has something to do with... what he's capable of?"

"Well," said Doc, "that's kind of hard to tell. There are plenty of other people who are capable of similar feats who won't live as long."

"What?" the Mandalorian stopped the cart. Doc glanced over at him. "There are others like him?"

"They're not all short and green, but yeah," she said. "Haven't you heard the stories? About the people who can move stuff with their minds? Some called them sorcerers."

She had hoped he wouldn't inquire too deeply on the subject. When he resumed the cart's movement and didn't say another word on the subject, she let an internal sigh out. She looked back at the child in the back who had fallen asleep amongst some rope.

"So..." she began. "Where should we go now?"

"I'll need work," he said. "Always something to pay for."

"I thought you were ex-communicated from the Guild."

"Did I say I was going back to the Guild?"