The Weeds in the Wilderness

by ealcynn

A man wakes on a cold and desolate moor. He knows he is hurt. He knows he is alone. What he doesn't know is what he is, or where he came from. He doesn't know even his own name. But there is something else that this man knows, and that is that if he doesn't get help soon, he is going to die. And on this strange new world, there are so many dangers.

20. The Lonely Moon

The Lonely Moon

---

Ben woke up, and didn't know where he was. This was becoming either an unfortunate habit, or some very peculiar joke that the universe was insistent upon repeating at his expense.

He rubbed gritty eyes. He had slept the deep, heavy sleep of the utterly exhausted, punctuated at intervals by strange and unsettling dreams. He remembered waking a few times to Pakat looking down at him. On one occasion he had been carried out into a larger room full of a clatter of noise and delicious smells. Someone had pressed a plastoid beaker into his groggy hands and he had drunk automatically. The contents had almost made him gag; a thick viscous slime which clung to his mouth and tongue. He remembered washing the slime down with warm water before falling asleep again. He remembered being cold.

He quickly checked his environs. A drip of IV fluids hanging from a low shelf and connected to his left arm was almost empty, so he carefully disconnected the tubing, rubbing at the sore patch on his elbow. He lay the medical equipment aside and looked about. The room was circular, of course, and smaller than the storeroom he had lived in at Shaarm's house. Instead of a sleeping mat this time he was lying directly on the floor which seemed to be faintly springy, formed of some kind of soft foam from wall to wall. Blankets and bed spaces for at least five others were laid out at random around the room. If the Dhosana enclave had indeed been constructed out of premade housing units, it would seem that each sleeping room was a single bed space large enough for as many family members as could be wedged inside. Interesting.

He closed his eyes, for a moment, and the nightmare was suddenly right there, waiting for him in the dark.

What is your name?

Ben opened his eyes quickly, and shivered. The dream squatted there in forefront his mind, noisome with fear and lingering horror. Another interrogation he thought, but something had been tied over his eyes; blinding and isolating. They had wanted...something, some information that he didn't know. No - something he should know but couldn't remember. And that realisation of the state of his fractured memory had been as utterly shocking and disorientating within the dream as it had been when he had woken up to it on the moor. In contrast, it suddenly struck Ben as unnerving to realise how comfortable he had become with his lost memories. After all the business with the bracelet and his powers, and then the narm attack, he had become all but apathetic to the mystery of his missing past. Too caught up in surviving and protecting and hiding to let such a little thing as the loss of his whole world slow him down. Was he really going to just allow this to become his new reality? Permit those integral parts of himself, of his identity, of his life before, to be stolen from him without a fight?

No. And it was about damn time he started doing something about it.

The first thing he ought to do would be to record everything he had remembered so far. Snatches of memory had come back to him at the strangest moments over the past- had it been seventeen days that he had been here? But he had several times dreamt of strange and disquieting events which must be more than the imaginings of his unconscious mind. Last night's nightmare, for example. He recalled more of it than usual, though the details had already become hazy and unclear. But he remembered the interrogation, sensed the men that had tortured him had not been pleased by his inability to recall the information they wanted. For all their apparent cruelty and madness and brutality, it seemed they at least had not caused his memory loss. Not intentionally. One tiny clue suspended in the empty void of his existence. Perhaps he would eventually have enough fragments to begin piecing together a timeline. A way to find a path through this intangible maze of puzzles and doubt.

Three things then began clamouring for Ben's attention. Firstly, his bladder, which was making rather urgent and pressing demands. Second; he could hear singing. And thirdly, he was really, really hungry.

One thing at a time. For the first issue to be dealt with, he was going to need to stand. Ben cautiously sat up, testing his balance. He had no idea how long he had been asleep; it could have been days again for all he could tell. Time to see if the rest was having any affect. Carefully, he stood, and to his surprise, his legs held. In fact, everything seemed to be more or less in working order; full sensation had returned to his limbs and extremities, though the muscles were stiff and his hands still tingled oddly. Added to that; his joints and head ached, and the old wounds in his leg, hip and chest throbbed unpleasantly. He was also shirtless; perhaps he had suffered further nosebleeds and someone had taken his shirt for cleaning? Still, Ben knew he would gladly accept all the symptoms he had now and more - even the return of full paralysis - if they were the cost he had to pay to have the Force back again. For there it was, streaming along under his skin. It hummed and whispered, tangible and certain, no longer flowing through his spirit like the light of a sun passing through an empty glass. It burned with its dazzling presence. Oh, and it was glorious. His grasp of it was still sluggish, sickly, but that didn't matter. The Force was with him. The Force was with him.

Ben grounded himself in his body with deep, calming breaths that made his damaged lung and broken collarbone burn, and then he looked around. As well as his shirt, his boots, scarf and lightsaber were also nowhere to be seen, though his green coat and the sling he had been wearing lay bundled up at the head of his blankets. Ben forgot himself for a moment and pushed too far by reaching for the garment with the Force rather than his hands. He was rewarded for his over-eagerness by failure, a spike of pain in his head and a few drops of blood from his nose. Too much, for now. He resorted to picking the coat up by more mundane means, and once more suitably attired, made his slow way out of the room.

The 'fresher proved to be extremely small, probably little more than a cupboard to the giant Kheelians, but it possessed everything Ben needed for now. After refreshing himself, Ben ran a quick, efficient check of his former injuries. He had theorised that the profound exhaustion caused by his Force healing of Nenka would have halted his own natural healing as his systems fought for resources, and the hypothesis seemed to be correct. The surgery site on his chest was still sealed with that colourless adhesive paste Shaarm used, but there was no other sign that it was healing, and it once again his lungs and ribs hurt like the blazes now that the numbness of exhaustion had faded. The same went for his fractured hip, leg wound and other old injuries. But one injury at least looked improved; when he peeled back the dressings from the 'saber burn on his neck, the wound was starting to close, with blisters giving way to a thick yellowish scab, and a thin line of fresh pink skin forming around the edges.

He covered the wound again, splashed some water on his face, and then inspected said face in the small mirror over the sink. Hollow, tired eyes stared back, pale skin stretched over thin bones, brown fading-out to reddish straggly hair in need of a trim, and five-days of bearded scruff.

Not his best look ever. He hoped.

He was up, dressed and washed. Target one achieved.

Target two: Investigate singing. Target three: breakfast, or dinner, or whatever meal was available. Targets 2 and 3 not necessarily to be achieved in that order.

Ben headed off down a long corridor, following the soft sound of the distant melodic chanting. The route wound to the left and right, and finally terminated in a closed door. Ben knocked and waited, but no-one answered and the singing didn't falter. He hesitated for a moment with his hand on the panel, but in the end hunger won out over good manners and he slid the door open and stepped inside.

Ben had thought he would be walking back into the garden room he had first seen, but the space that greeted his eyes now was much, much larger, though the abundance of plant life was just as present. Here, though, the planting seemed more decorative than functional, and instead of trailing downwards the plants grew up; vines and ivy and a multitude of other thickly-leaved climbing plants wound up around seventeen wall stanchions, curling their way up to the domed roof above. The wall between each entwined pillar was painted a faded dusty grey-blue and the carpet was mossy green so that walking into the room gave Ben the feeling of standing on a low hill in the evening and looking out through a crown of trees as the light slowly faded from the dusky sky.

He dragged his eyes from the spectacle and looked towards the singers. In the centre of the room, sitting with her back to him, was Ysella. In front of her were at least a dozen others; females and males, adults and children; clustered in a rough semi-circle. To Ben's untrained eye he thought they were all of the Dhosana, like his hosts. Some were seated and some standing, and all were singing or chanting or humming. Ben's eyes automatically sought out his family. Tiki and Ooouli were there, sitting on the end of a row, slightly apart from the others. Pakat was nowhere to be seen. Tiki and a few of the other children stared at Ben as he entered, but no-one moved or broke off their singing. Loathed to be a disruption, Ben slid the door closed behind him and then quietly sat down against the wall.

The rhythm of the song soon pulled him in, and he closed his eyes, letting the haunting melody flow over him. It was not quite a song after all it seemed, and it lacked any of the structural elements one might associate with formal music. Ben could not even be confident that the participants were all singing the same piece; the woven sounds of chanting and singing in different melodies and tempos seemed to rise up and then sometimes to die away entirely, leaving only one solo voice, the voice which formed the framework of the entire piece, to carry them along until the others picked up the sound once more.

After a few minutes lost in the shifting dynamics of the music, Ben started to focus on the actual words themselves. The language was not Kheeli and seemed as unfamiliar to him at first as that tongue had once been. But the song seemed imbued with more than language and soon the shape of a story began to take place in his mind. He saw three beings bonded together for eternity, timeless and unending. One was brighter to the eye, more brilliant than a sun; two were soft shadows and subtle as moonlight, turning in ceaseless orbits through the paths of each others' existence, sometimes strong and sometimes weak, the perfect balance of waxing and waning. Together, always. Except when they were broken. One travelled too far ahead. One was lost to darkness, and one fell behind. They were eternal, and the breaking would pass. The three will be together again. But for now, she who is left behind is the last. The lonely one. She must remember her light. Until the time passes. This too shall pass.

Ben blinked his eyes open as the song changed. Two of the participants at the back of the group had fallen silent, and slipped out of the door. After a few minutes, Ben saw another Dhosan leave, and then another, and another, until there was only one last child left behind. Now Ben could hear that Ysella's voice had been the one carrying the melody, and she sang on, as sure and certain as ever, despite the loss of her audience. The child hummed along with her for a few more moments, staring boldly at Ben. Then it too scampered out of one the doors at the back of the room, without a word.

Ysella continued for perhaps half a minute, and then she too fell silent. The Kheelian girls stopped nodding along and Ooouli jumped up.

"Hello Ben!" she exclaimed, with the same delight she held for him every time.

"Hello," he greeted her back. "Hello Ysella."

The Dhosan woman stretched, and then turned slightly to look at him, her head tilted, unsmiling. She nodded once in his direction but said nothing.

"We thought you might stay sleeping for days," Ooouli was saying as she trotted over to him, "like last time!" Ben let the girl pull him up to his feet, and then they patted each other's hair for a moment or two, in greeting. Tiki arrived then, and shoved her way in between the pair of them to have her own mane thoroughly fussed.

"I rather thought I had been," Ben confessed. "How long have we been here?"

"Not long," Ooouli reassured him, pulling him further into the room. "You fell asleep in the greeting room while Papa was introducing you. Then we had lunch and then Papa and Tiki had a nap too. I did some history with Ysella, and now Papa has gone down to the town with Yalani to find Mama."

"I see," said Ben, trying to follow all that. "So it's still the same day?"

"Yes, silly," Ooouli said, affectionately. "It is only 21 turns. I am glad you didn't sleep through the festival."

"It's Kel-Marr!" said Tiki, excitedly, tugging on his arm.

"Oh, yes," Ben said, recalling. "The festival, I remember. But 21 turns is late; shouldn't you both be thinking about heading to bed by now?"

"No, Ben! It is Second Night! Everything is about to begin."

"And what, precisely, is 'everything'?"

"It is fun," Ooouli assured him. "You will like it."

"Lights go up in the sky!" Tiki said.

Ooouli nodded, encouragingly, "That's right, then there are fireworks, and presents, and stories, and everyone eats so much; we always have tarvaroot chips, chaala sticks and fried kirtone buns. Last festival, I was sick. Twice," she added, with an air of pride.

"My word," Ben said, faintly impressed.

"Speaking of food," said Ysella, from behind them. "Pakat said you must eat as soon as you awoke." Ben turned, and saw the Dhosan woman was watching them, unsmiling. She gestured towards a door to one side of the room. "He set aside some food in the kitchen which is safe for Pechnar."

"Thank you," Ben said. "Yes, I am rather hungry."

Ysella made to get up, but Ooouli stopped her.

"Do not worry, Auntie Ysa, we will show him how to get there."

Ysella nodded. Ben looked at the woman's face, sensing an unfriendliness; odd given how beloved she seemed to be of the children, and how unperturbed she had been by their unannounced arrival earlier in the day. He wasn't sure how he had upset her since then, but he was determined to try and neutralise her dislike, if possible. He took a gamble.

"Can we bring you back anything from the kitchen?" he asked. "Some tea, perhaps?"

There was a moment when he thought she would refuse, but after a brief struggle, his strategy paid off. She agreed.

"Some tea. Thank you."

Ooouli led him down more bewildering corridors into another large round room, ringed with cupboards and cooking apparatus. Ben was surprised to note several cooking hearths scattered around; the room seemed to have a communal function like the lounge they had just left. Ooouli and Tiki located the food Pakat had set aside for them, while Ben set the kettle to boil and, with Ooouli's help, identified a packet of tea which she assured was the correct type for the occasion.

When they returned, Ben carrying the tray a little awkwardly one handed, Ysella let them set out the tea things in silence, and received her cup from Ben with a nod. One point to him. Time to try a little conversation.

"That was a beautiful song, Ysella," Ben told her, with honesty. "Though it is a shame more of your audience could not stay to hear the end."

Ysella stretched a little, and said:

"If they had not have left, then there would have been no end. The words will continue as long as there are those to hear them. And it is not a song."

"I'm sorry," said Ben, still curious, but trapped on the tightrope between showing interest and prying. "What would you call it?"

Ysella gave him a shrewd look. "Now you are asking for a truth," she said. "Such things - tales, histories, knowledge – they are a currency of their own right in Dhosana culture. They are not given for free."

Ben floundered for a second, uncertain how to proceed. He had no money, beyond the credits Shaarm had been keeping for him, and no idea how to access them. He had very few possessions at all, and nothing he would be willing to barter with. He was about to withdraw his question, if he could, when Tiki spoke up.

"Ben made tea," she said, firmly.

Ben looked up, surprised to hear the quiet child speak, but Ooouli agreed with her sister.

"That's right, Auntie Ysa. He did bring you tea."

"I suppose he did," Ysella said, after a moment's pause. "Very well. What you heard was The Story, that is, part of the entire history of my people. Shaarm's people, the Kheelians, they write down the words of their history, trapping them as dead shapes within the pages of books. For the Dhosana, history is alive and ever-growing, and therefore we keep it alive in the retelling through the sound of our voices."

Ben nodded, remembering Grandmother reading aloud from the Death Lists in Shaarm's house. It seemed the Dhosana oral history tradition was even stronger than that of the Kheelians.

"Ysella is the Storykeeper," explained Ooouli. "She is the only one for miles and miles. Most of her stories are in Dhosi, but some she creates just for us, in Kheeli, so that everyone can join in."

Ysella smiled at the girl, and it transformed her face. It was clear she held the children with great affection at least.

"And, may I ask, the story you were just telling..." Ben asked. "That was a piece of your history?"

"A myth," Ysella replied, sipping her tea. "The story of the Lonely Moon."

Ben nodded, pleased her frostiness seemed to be thawing. He picked up the flask Patak had left for him and took a large swig of what turned out to be warm and slightly sulphurous tasting slime. He managed, through a test of rather remarkable will power, not to immediately throw up. Ben forced himself to swallow the gloop, coughed a little and grimaced. The girls both laughed.

"What..." he stared into the flask at viscous, pinkish mucus.

"It is raw szaari lizard eggs mixed with soured caprius milk." Ysella explained, herself looking faintly amused at his expression. "Highly nutritious, if not very palatable. Yalani did add a little cinna to improve the flavour."

"If this is improved, I'd hate to taste it before," Ben said, with probably more honesty than was polite. He almost saw Ysella smile again.

With some effort he managed to force down the rest of the flaskful and then washed away the taste with more tea. The meal was good for him, he reminded himself. The IV fluids had helped but he needed as much energy from calories too as he could get, if he was going to improve. He already felt much better than he expected he had a right too, after everything that had happened. But this burst of energy wouldn't last long before he had to sleep again. In the meantime he distracted himself from the noxious sulphurous taste of the raw eggs by listening to the children chatter with their host about doings in the enclave as they ate their own supper of sliced fruit.

Ben's conclusion that this was a communal area was probably confirmed when a door opened and a Dhosan child wandered in. It may even have been the one who had been the last to leave at the end of the song. Based on its pure white fur, its size, and the supposition that the Dhosana all seemed to be smaller than their Kheelian cousins, Ben put the child's age at a few years less than Ooouli. Working out its gender would be trickier.

None of the others in the room paid the child much attention, and it bounded across the room and directly up to Ben. Then it reared up on its back legs and stared down at him determinedly.

"Ah," Ben said, unsure how to deal with the intense inspection. "Hello."

The child wrinkled its nose consideringly. "'lo," It replied, then dropped to all fours, leaned forwards, and bared its teeth in a rather alarming fashion. It shoved one grubby paw into its mouth and said, slightly muffled;

"I got a loose tooth."

"Goodness," said Ben.

"Look!" demanded the child, wiggling the offending canine back and forth.

Ben duly marvelled. "I can see. Yes, it is loose. I expect that will come out soon. Mind you don't swallow it!"

"Ha!" said the child. "As if. You do not know anyway, you have not got any grown-up teeth at all!"

"Actually," Ben corrected, "My teeth just look different to yours, but they are all grown-up teeth."

He poked his tongue against his teeth in surprise for a moment, before adding; "Well, except three on this side, which...yes, appear to be false. Hmm."

"Wow," said the child, with a certain gruesome delight. "Can I see?"

"Me too!"

Ben obligingly opened his mouth, and was soon almost smothered in children as Tiki and Ooouli also clambered over to have a look.

"Why would you have false teeth?" the child said.

"Where are the real ones?" Ooouli asked, poking at the dental implant where Ben's right premolar would have been.

"I don't remember," Ben told them, after he had extracted Ooouli's giant hand. It was true enough, he hadn't even known it himself until that moment. It was an unsettling thought.

"You are funny looking," announced the child with the loose tooth, who then looked to Ooouli. "What is this thing, anyway? Is it yours?"

"'It' is a him," Ooouli said, firmly, "and he is called Ben. He is all his own."

"Weird," said the child. Then, with a magnanimous air, it patted Ben on the head and said, "You can stay, I suppose."

"Well, thank you," Ben said, gravely.

"See you at the festival!" yelled the child, who snatched two fruits off the tray and dashed off at top speed, back out of the door.

"One of yours?" asked Ben, when the sound of the slamming door had faded. He didn't think Pakat had mentioned any children.

"That was Falayan. He is mine, to some extent. He is all of ours. His mothers are gone, and so he goes where he pleases in the compound and wherever he stops he will be cared for as long as he chooses to stay. He is a son of the family. That is the Dhosana way."

"Well, at least I have a name to put to the whirlwind."

Ysella gave a small sigh. "He can be a handful," she agreed. "But all the children will be excited by the festival."

"And that is due to begin soon?"

"At 22 turns."

"Shaarm said the festival was to do with the eclipse..." Ben said, still intrigued and angling for more information. He had no way to know what the exchange rate between information and tea-making might amount to, so he couldn't tell how far one pot would take him. Ooouli came to his rescue.

"Can I tell him, Auntie Ysa? Ben has taught me lots of things in the past, so it is a fair exchange."

Ooouli looked at Ysella, and on her approving nod, stood up as if reciting something.

"Kel-marr is the festival of the Lonely Moon," Ooouli explained. "It is celebrated every eight-hundred days, when Balla moon is cast into shadow for three nights. On First Night, everyone stays at home with their families to con-tem-plate. On Second Night – that is tonight, Ben - it is the procession of lights; the lights shine up into the sky to show the lonely moon we are all with her. And Third Night is celebration for the return of the lost moon, and then everyone stays up until dawn to see the sun and the two moons all in the sky together. It is so much fun!"

"It sounds very interesting," Ben agreed. "You teach very well, Ooouli."

The girl beamed.

"Your story, the one you were telling when I came in," Ben considered out loud, turning to Ysella. "That was the story of the eclipse, I take it? I'm afraid I didn't understand all of it, but I gathered it was about the three- siblings? Lovers? I couldn't be sure – who are separated, and then find their way back together again. Those characters represent the sun and the two moons, I take it..."

Ysella was staring at him. Ben faltered and stopped, realising something was wrong.

"How do you know that?" Ysella said, quietly.

Ben blinked. "I heard the song," he said. "I am sorry if I intruded on a private event, I knocked but no-one answ-"

"The Story is told in Dhosi," she interrupted. "That language is secret. How did you understand it?"

"I-" said Ben, and was then at a loss. Ooouli intervened.

"Ben is very smart," she told Ysella. "He speaks Kheeli perfectly, and he only learned it just a ten-day ago."

"No-one learns Dhosi," Ysella said, still staring at Ben with that unfriendly, slightly suspicious look.

"Of course. I understand," Ben said, quite resolved that he would not mention it again. He silently cursed. One step forward and two steps back. It seemed he had once again alienated his prickly host.

Fortunately it was at about that moment a door behind them slid aside, and Yalani entered. Pakat was not with him.

The Dhosan greeted Ysella and then stared at Ben in something like amazement.

"Surprised to see me awake?" Ben guessed.

"Astonished," Yalani said. "Pakat told us how you ran yourself into the ground saving the boy. I thought you would be out of it for days."

Ben shrugged a little. In truth his strength was already starting to flag, but he had no intention of showing it.

"I heal quickly," was all he said.

"Still, you do look tired."

Ben raised an eyebrow, as Ooouli said; "He just met Falayan."

"Ah. That would explain that, then."

Yalani still insisted on examining Ben's wounds and checking his vital signs, on Shaarm's orders, so the two of them returned to the sleeping room to get a little peace and quiet and to let the children get ready for heading out to the festivities.

Yalani checked all of the wound sites and dressings, and pressed Ben's ribs and collarbone, much as Ben himself had done not an hour before. The Dhosan also noted his pulse and blood pressure with another zol device, recording everything on a datapad. Yalani readily admitting he didn't know what any of the readings meant for Pechnar but that they would hopefully mean something to Shaarm. While Yalani was measuring his oxygen saturation, Ben broached the subject which had been bothering him all evening.

"Yalani, I apologise if this seems out of turn, but your sister...I feel that I have in some way offended her but I am not sure how. I would like to fix whatever it is, but..."

Yalani, sighed and sat back. "You must forgive Ysa," he said. "She... well, she suffers constantly from pains in her leg and spine, and her patience is not what it was."

"May I ask what happened?" Ben asked.

"The war, of course," Yalani said, making a quick annotation on the pad. "What else? She was injured in the explosion which killed our parents. Severe nerve damage. It is the reason I learned nursing skills, actually. To care for her, afterwards, though those skills served me well when we came to live here."

"I'm so sorry," Ben said, truly saddened.

"It is passed," Yalani said. "But thank you. Regardless, you should not blame yourself, or regret your actions. Those too are passed."

"My actions? So I did do something?"

Yalani looked uncomfortable. "Pakat and Ooouli-" and Ben noted he also always used the long form of the girl's name, rather than the shortened form Ben had given her- "They were telling us what occurred with the narms, and when you and Chana escaped with the children during the Thet siege...At the farmhouse, when the creatures attacked..."

"And...?" Ben pressed.

Yalani looked away. "You gave a child a weapon."

Ben gaped. "I..."

But the children had been nowhere near the lightsaber. He would never have let them touch it. He had fought off the narms in the doorway, with Chana at his back, holding the back entrance. The narms had broken through, but Chana had put the girls up onto the roof, and they had-

Ben had given Ooouli the staff. He had remembered thinking that she wouldn't have the strength to hold the creatures off alone, if he and Chana were killed. But at least with a weapon she and Tiki would have had a chance. She had been so afraid, and he had been so proud of her.

"I gave Ooouli an old walking stick! Made of duralumin! It was hardly a live grenade."

"Nevertheless," Yalani said, unhappily. "There will be those who think you have endangered her wellbeing by encouraging her to hurt another creature-"

Ben's indignation was quickly souring to anger.

"Endangered her wellbeing? She saved her sister's life that night!"

"Ben, I understand," Yalani said, holding up his hands placatingly. "I do not condemn your actions though I cannot condone them. I, for one, am proud of Ooouli. I said so at the time, to Tiki. But Ysella and others...they see things differently."

"Those children are alive right now because Ooouli defended them both," Ben snapped. "Chana and I could not have got to them in time. And Nenka, he was critically injured because he did not know how to defend himself in a conflict. Would you rather they were all dead than raised a hand in their own defence?"

"Of course not! They are children. But the responsibility for that violence must lie somewhere. If they had died it would lie with the narms. They did not die, so in Ysa's eyes, it lies with you."

"I can't believe this," Ben muttered. That night of the Thet siege had been a victory. He had got the family to safety, and himself too, if rather by the skin of his teeth. Ooouli and Tiki had faced something terrifying, and they had both survived, and come out of it stronger and braver, and no less light-hearted or loving. Yes, of course he would have rather they had never been in danger, had never been afraid, or hurt, or forced to pick up a weapon and fight for their lives. But it had happened, and they had passed that test. There would always be darkness and danger in the world. Someone had to be prepared to fight it.

Yalani was looking at him strangely, and Ben realised that his anger and frustration were starting to bleed through the thin veneer of his calm. Exhaustion was already eroding his emotional balance even further, but he had to remember that he was a guest here. It was not his place to judge the Dhosana values, or tell them how to raise their own children. He had defended their lives, and that was enough.

There is no passion, there is serenity; he felt the words flow out of his subconscious into the Force and curl about his tattered self; embracing him, firm but secure, calm. There is no emotion, there is peace.

"I apologise," Ben said, after a moment's pause. "I respect that your views are different to mine, and that I have offended you and Ysella. Peace and non-violence are most admirable goals and ones that everyone, adult or child, should strive to uphold. But you should understand that I don't regret what I did. To me, life is sacred over all other things. The children's' lives. I believe that with continued guidance and love and teaching they will suffer no ill effects of what happened, and will learn from it."

Yalani nodded, looking unhappy, but all he said was; "I understand what you are saying. It has been a difficult time for us all, adjusting after the end of the war, living here side by side. Ooouli and the other children like her are very special to us."

Ben nodded, and at that moment the door slid slightly open. As if summoned, Ooouli put her head into the room.

"Ben, is everything all right?" She asked, glancing between the two of them. "I heard shouting."

Ben looked away from Yalani, and then sighed a little. "Everything is fine, Ooouli, I'm sorry. Just a little misunderstanding – My fault."

The girl didn't look convinced but she stepped into the room, holding out a bundle.

"I brought you your things, so you can get dressed, and another cup of your medicine drink. Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Ben said, not adding he had felt distinctly better before realising he had to drink another cup of szaari eggs. He accepted his shirt - blood free but a little damp - boots and scarf more gratefully. The bundle did not contain his lightsaber, but given the almost argument he had just had with Yalani, Ben decided he was rather glad of that. Hopefully Pakat had hidden the weapon away somewhere safe for the time being.

Ben pulled on the shirt first, and then sipped at the disgusting drink one-handed while Yalani re-tied the sling that lifted the weight of Ben's left arm off his broken collarbone. Then Ben sat on the floor, setting the cup to one side as he negotiated the handful of the clothing and the heavy boots. He even remembered to shake the stones that had been digging into his ankle out of the left boot before pulling it on He stuffed the stones into his pocket; souvenirs, no doubt, of their moorland adventure the previous night.

"Are you excited for the festival?" He asked Ooouli, as he set about battling the laces one-handed.

Ooouli nodded, but looked to Yalani.

"Will Papa be back in time, Uncle Yali?" she asked.

"He is going to meet us in the square," Yalani confirmed.

"And Mama?" Ooouli asked, sounding a little anxious.

"I do not know. Perhaps, if she can get away from the surgery."

"Okay," said the girl, but Ben heard something in her voice. He abandoned his bootlace for the moment, and stood up until he was as near eye to eye with her as possible. "Ooouli, is everything alright?"

She frowned a little. "It is just silly, but...Tiki is too little to remember last festival. I wanted it to be a proper one, for her. With everyone here. And Cousin Nenka needs Mama now, I know that, but Papa has gone away and we left Dada behind, and..."

"Listen to me, Ooouli," Ben said, "That is not silly. You want your family by your side, and safe, so you can celebrate together. That is not silly. I know your mother and fathers are thinking exactly the same thing now, and wishing they could be with the two of you, more than anything. I am sorrier than I can say for my part in you all being split up tonight. I wish I could fix it. But you told me the story of the Lonely Moon yourself – tonight is about giving strength to all those separated from their loved ones. You all look up at the same sky, and you will find each other again. Do you believe me?"

She nodded, her eyes a little wet, but he could see she was comforted. "Yes, Ben."

"Good," he said, and gave her a firm hug.

At his back, the door to the sleep room suddenly slid aside with a thud, and what seemed like a small noisy tornado tore into the room. Ben could make a large figure bouncing wildly across the mattress and yelling at the top of its lungs.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go, let's-"

Yalani tried to capture the white blob as it rocketed passed but missed.

"Falayan, will you please-"

"Come on!" The boy demanded, pulling on Yalani's sleeve. "We will be late for the festival!"

There was a laugh from the doorway, and Ben saw Tiki was hovering there too, watching with sparkling eyes. All three of the children were dressed in warm coats and scarves, ready for the night air.

"All right, we are coming," Yalani said. "Is Ysella ready?"

"Yes, she is waiting in the hallway, now come on." The boy was clearly unable to contain his excitement and dashed back out of the room. Tiki followed him with another shrieking laugh.

"Ben," Yalani said, "You do not need to come if you do not feel up to it. I am reluctant to leave you here alone, although it is a fair walk into town..."

"I'll come," said Ben, finishing his laces and the last of the disgusting energy drink. "I wouldn't miss it. Don't worry, I'll be fine."

He didn't say it but there was no way he was leaving the girls at a time like this. Not when Ooouli was feeling so afraid and alone. Not when they didn't know when Pakat would return. Not when there could be Jedi around any corner. Instead, Ben did up his coat over the sling, leaving the left sleeve empty, and tucked the scarf in around his neck. He was ready.

They met Ysella in the first garden room. Ben eyed her consideringly, but she just looked calmly back before turning away. She had made up her mind about him, it seemed.

The group of them, three adults and three children, made their way out of the apartment and into the corridor. The enclave was a rabbit warren of corridors and rooms, some seemingly private, some shared living spaces and with no obvious difference to Ben's eyes between them. Plant life was everywhere. Broad-leafed decorative plants, as tall as trees, stood in corners or against walls, or as centre points in large circular rooms. Once Ben glimpsed a long corridor off to his right set up as a hydroponics garden, with plants cascading out of tiered channels down to the floor below. At last, when Ben was completely disorientated, they seemed suddenly to have made their way to an exit. Yalani, pushed open a narrow door, and cold night streamed in. The group followed him out into the dark, and the door closed behind them.

Ben stopped. It was still foggy, and if anything, the murk had grown even thicker than before. The night was cold in a way that ached deep in his chest, and it was very dark, so dark that Ben could barely see his hand in front of his face, or the glimmer of the children's fur. Ysella, with her dark blue colouring, was all but invisible. There were no artificial lights at all from the buildings behind them to break up the all consuming dark that pressed in on them on all sides, only a low, orange glow along the horizon that silhouetted the buildings of the enclave like a slumbering krayt dragon. Ben looked up and saw a pale gleam glimmering through the mists; the Lonely Moon, smothered in her isolation.

Tiki leaned up against Ben on one side, excited and a little bit scared. He rubbed her ears calmingly.

"Ah, they have turned out the town lights already, it seems. Is everyone all right?" Yalani asked. "Ooouli, have you got Tiki and Ben?"

"Yes, Yalani," Ooouli answered from by Ben's shoulder, taking his hand. Ben smiled a little through the dark. A few minutes ago Yalani had been criticising Ben for putting children into danger. Now he seemed to have fallen back into his default state of thinking Ben a child himself.

Ahead, Ben could hear Falayan tugging on Yalani's arm; the child seemed entirely unperturbed by the consuming darkness,

"Let's go! Come on, the square is this way."

"Falayan, you know full well I cannot go as fast as you," He heard Ysella scold, through the dark. "If you were not willing to wait then you should have chosen someone else to walk with."

"But I want to go with you. Ooouli and Tiki are here, and so is their Ben-thing."

"Then you will have to go at my pace. Come on."

As the group moved off, Ben realised that, even though his night vision was clearly worse than both the Kheelians and the Dhosana, he could somehow sense the alleyway around them. He could use the Force to compensate for the darkness by feeling the shape of the space, and even sensing the way the air currents moved through it. Even were it blacker than pitch out here, he could still walk safely through the alley, if he concentrated. That skill could turn out to be rather useful indeed. He reached out carefully and tentatively with the tremulous Force as they walked, felt the walls on either side, and ahead, in the direction of the orange glow, he could perceive a mass of life. Many beings must be standing there, just around the corner. Despite that knowledge, he was still not prepared for the sight that met his eyes when they rounded it.

Ooouli gasped. They had stepped into the round open space at the entrance to the enclave that Pakat had led them to that morning. Only now it contained perhaps a hundred Dhosana, and each was enveloped in a pool of light. The fog around them was glowing like it was a living thing, curling around their giant forms like a luminescent vapour. The light, Ben noticed after a moment, was emanating from the hundreds of copper and duralumin dishes and bowls he had observed earlier. Each appeared to be brimming over with light; candles floated on each radiant surface, bathing the Dhosana faces in flickering illumination: midnight blue, sunlit gold and white as starlight.

Ben stood, utterly enchanted for a moment, before he became aware of another discussion was taking place beside him. Yalani had produced a small copper bowl from a sack he had been carrying, and was filling it with water. Ysella was holding a few candles and a frown.

"No, Falayan," she was saying. "Ooouli is going to carry the light."

"Why?"

"Well Tiki is too little, and as for you, well, I do not think I can handle a repeat of what happened last festival."

Ooouli leaned over to Ben. "He dropped his candles and set someone's mane on fire," she explained.

"It was awesome," said Falayan, happily.

"Here," said Yalani, handing the dish with its lit candles careful to Ooouli. "Now, Falayan, Tiki, these are for you."

He gave each child a long plastoid tube, like a flare casing, which, after a brief shake, began to emit a warm blue glow. Tiki waved hers enthusiastically side to side, and announced:

"Lightsaber!"

Fortunately, for Ben's sake, neither of the two adult Dhosana seemed to comprehend that statement. Ben gave Tiki's fur a reassuring pat, hoping she wouldn't mention the weapon again.

They took their place amongst the waiting Dhosana; Yalani guiding them through the crowd to a spot somewhere in the centre. Around them were adults and children and elderly, clustered into small family groups or with friends or in pairs, but no-one was alone. Ben, as usual, received many stares but no-one approached him to look closer; it seemed there was enough excitement about the upcoming events that his presence was tempered to a mere curiosity.

After a few more minutes, when the last few stragglers had arrived, some silent signal seemed to prompt the ceremonies to begin. All of the dishes of light were lifted up, and then the entire group began to move, walking out of the courtyard and down into the street. The pace of the procession was slow, due to the presence of so many children and old folk, allowing both Ben and Ysella to keep pace easily. The fog shimmered about them, making the procession seem like a river of light that slowly flowed down the hillside, streaming with blue shadows and glinting with highlights of white and gold. As they passed each street more Kheelians, all bearing dishes of light, would merge into the parade like tributaries flowing into a river.

As they reached the base of the hill, Ysella began to sing, a low rhythmic chant that soon began to rise in volume. The Dhosana on each side added their voices, and then Ben heard singers behind them join in, and soon the Kheelian and Dhosan voices all around were rising up like a wave of sound that shook the air. The fog around them glowed and the night sang.

Ben followed Ooouli and Ysella as closely as he could, flanked on both sides by Tiki and Falayan, and with Yalani at his back. By now there must have been a thousand creatures in the procession and Ben felt rather like a small pebble being tumbled along in a rushing stream as the Kheelians towered over and around him. It was strange and disconcerting to be so utterly surrounded by the giant creatures; this was, after all the most number of beings Ben could ever remember witnessing and it was a more than a little awe-inspiring. But he was not afraid. The Force was ringing through him like a clear bell.

At last the procession began to slow again, and peering between the tall Kheelians, Ben could just about perceive an open square in the heart of the town. He could see perhaps a thousand more Kheelians waiting there, light streaming into the fog from the dishes and lanterns that they held like a living vapour. They too were singing, a hundred different melodies and rhythms that Ben could barely comprehend, only the overwhelming sense that they offered strength and patience and courage as they let their light pass up into the heavens to comfort the lonely moon in her solitude.

Soon, the singing began to dwindle into talking and burst of laughter as friends and family members greeted each other, although it did not entirely abate, as here and there pockets of song would still rise up above the hubbub, even after Ysella herself had stopped singing. The crack of the first fireworks took Ben by surprise, even though he had been expecting it, and it was greeted by cheers and yells from the crowd. In actual fact, there was very little to see through the fog other than a diffuse burst of hazy green light against the grey-black of the night sky, but that didn't seem to matter much to the audience, who still cheered and clapped every time there was an intermittent bang and a misty glow of fire scattered the illuminated sky with colour.

Yalani disappeared across the square towards a line of stalls, and returned a short while later clutching a bag of food items. Ben turned down the tarva chips and jubaberry sauce with a smile and a shake of his head, but he agreed to try the kirtone bun he was handed, with a healthy caution. He was astonished to find it the most delicious thing he had ever eaten. It was apparently some form of hot caprius cheese, cooked with a crusted sugary outside and warm creamy centre. Tiki was delighted with his obvious enjoyment. The chaala sticks too were good; cold this time, and crunchy, with a nutty sort of flavour. Not as good as the kirtone buns, but still pretty amazing. Ben didn't know if any of the festival food had any nutritional value, but if it did, he was quite prepared to live off it forever and never even think about raw lizard eggs ever again.

Just as he was finishing his third kirtone bun, a group of a dozen or so children burst out of the crowd to greet Ooouli, Tiki and Falayan with shouts of excitement and delight. There was much showing off and admiring of small toys and trinkets that the other children seemed to have received as festival gifts. Eventually one of the newcomers noticed Ben, and this time he didn't escape the inquisitive prods and pats as the children explored this new curiosity that Ooouli and Tiki had brought. Although their attention eventually waned when he failed to do anything more exciting than smile politely, their actions were enough to draw some attention from the nearby adults. They too began to stare, curiously.

Ben began to consider if this had all been a mistake. He was certainly enjoying himself, no doubt about it, and watching the creatures around him so relaxed and at peace was soothing after the chaos and fear of the past few days. The procession of light: that had been utterly captivating in its otherworldliness. But it seemed wherever he went he drew attention to himself, and Shaarm had sent him and the children to lay low at Yalani's house deliberately to avoid such a thing. The Jedi were still out there, after all. Perhaps they were even here, at the festival, though Ben could not sense them. He doubted even the Jedi could pick out one human at night, through fog, and in the midst of two thousand excited Kheelians. But added to all this; he was tired, so tired. Despite being awake less than three turns, the exhaustion and the endless cold was creeping back up on him. Yalani had been right; it had been a long walk into town, further than Ben had walked for a while. He wasn't entirely confident he was going to be able to make it back up the hill at all. But that was a problem for later, and for now he was content. For attending the festival had led to kirtone buns, and in Ben's view, nothing that involved fried kirtone buns could possibly be a mistake.

"Mama!"

Ben turned at Ooouli's yell, and there were Shaarm and Pakat, materializing out of the fog like apparitions. Tiki and Ooouli threw themselves into their parents' arms, laughing with delight. Ben stayed aside as they reunited, before he was suddenly pulled into Pakat's gasp too and firmly hugged. After a flurry of conversation, the children scampered away to fetch food for their parents. It was probably needed; Shaarm looked exhausted, and Pakat didn't seem much better. They had all had long days and several sleepless nights of fear and worry, so there was no surprise in that.

"Yalani said you were awake, and had joined the festival," Shaarm said, turning to Ben and mussing with his hair, "I couldn't believe it."

Ben nodded a little, smiling in his joy at seeing her. "The threat of more szaari eggs would get anyone out of bed. Nenka?"

Shaarm sighed a little.

"We have completed the surgery. He will live," she said, reassuringly, but Ben could see Pakat was upset.

"But ...?" Ben persisted, looking between the pair.

"There was...severe damage before the tissues grew back at an abnormal rate. Some vessels did not reattach correctly."

"There is permanent damage," Ben guessed, with a sinking feeling.

"He will retain problems for the remainder of his life," Shaarm confirmed, "but at the very least he will have one, thanks to you. It is possible he will not be able to speak again, but there is nothing more we can do for him now, until his strength improves."

Ben frowned unhappily. He remembered the teen reading aloud to Ooouli and Tiki when they were frightened. The way he had genially haggled with his uncle over tarvaroots in the little store. His reassuring presence at Ben's side when he had been lying injured and near delirious during the narms' siege at Thet.

"I should like to visit him," Ben said, "if that would be possible." The man had sworn to protect the Kheelians that night on the moor. He had been determined to make peace with the narms; resolute that no-one else would die. Well, no-one had. But Nenka had paid a terrible price for Ben's inability to uphold his unspoken oath, and, more critically, for Ben's failure to understand and utilise his own powers properly. He knew what is was Shaarm wasn't saying.

The Kheelian woman frowned. "He is very weak," she warned.

"Please."

Shaarm sighed. "Very well. Perhaps tomorrow. But he will be asleep. It may be a long time before he wakes."

Ben suspected Shaarm was still not being entirely candid with him, but he was too tired to push her now. This was as much of a concession as he would get. He nodded his thanks, and shoved his lose hand into his pocket, unable to avoid shivering a little in the cold. Shaarm inspected Ben critically through the fog.

"You look tired, Ben. You probably should have remained at Yalani's house. Nenka was not the only one who almost died last night."

"Perhaps. But I... I didn't want the children to be alone," Ben said, with a slightly abashed look. Shaarm broke out into a sudden quick smile, which disappeared as Ben asked: "Have you heard from Chana or Grandmother at all?"

"No," she answered. "There is no telewire or any comms running at the moment. Apart from the trains, everything is shut down for the festival. But do not worry; Chana would have found way to send word if there was a problem, I am sure. We can only hope that the narms have kept their word, and that the Jedi have moved on."

Ben nodded, but he still had a bad feeling about all of it. He hated leaving Chana and Grandmother, who had been so good to him, alone up there to deal with the spectres of Ben's past. The Jedi were, by rights, his problem and his alone. Sooner or later he was going to have to face them, and there may not be time to wait for his full strength to return before that happened. Ben certainly did not want to confront them, but he also did not want to put anyone else in danger on his behalf.

Shaarm and Pakat were soon distracted once more by their children, who were excitedly pointing out all the sights of the festival to their parents. Feeling himself growing slightly dizzy with tiredness, and keen not to attract any more attention by doing something horrible like collapsing, Ben took a quiet seat on a shadowed doorstep of a nearby house. Here he could watch the festivities around, and keep a look out for anything more threatening, but remain more or less out of sight. To his surprise, Ysella came to join him.

"Bad leg," was all she said in response to his questioning look.

They rested for a while and, in a more or less companionable silence, watched the children playing. Ooouli and Tiki and Falayan had been joined by four more children, three Kheelians and a Dhosan, and they were laughing and darting about in the fog, engaged in some game of catch. Yalani, Pakat and Shaarm were talking intently about something as the latter two ate and watched the sights of the festival. Somewhere musicians were playing strange, haunting music and all around them the fog gleamed gold from the light of a thousand candles. Above their heads, bursts of colour from the fireworks splashed across the palate of the sky and over the moon's pale face.

"I would like to ask a question, if I may," Ben began, quietly, as he watched Ooouli lift her sister up so that Tiki could look over the crowd. "I still have...six chaala sticks, if that is enough to exchange for an answer?"

Ysella looked faintly amused, but she nodded and took the snacks. "I must hear your question before I decided if that is a fair trade."

"It is about Ooouli...Yalani said she was special. She and the 'other children like her'. I got the impression he was referring to something more than normal protectiveness for younglings."

Ysella nodded. "All of the children of the Peace Years are precious to us, but the first generation born after the end of the War is particularly special. They came to symbolise all of our hopes for the future. She is one of these, though she is younger than most. Like many of the first Kheelian children, she has a Dhosi name, just as many of the first Dhosana children have names from the Kheeli language. It is a good name, an old name, from the roots of our language before it divided. Perhaps this is why you have found some trouble pronouncing it; I have heard you call her 'Ooouli'..."

But Ben had stopped listening. Something had clicked in his mind as Ysella spoke, and, as all the little pieces of evidence quietly fell into place, he came to a sudden realisation.

"The Ten Thousand Days' War..." he said. "It was between the Kheelians and the Dhosana, wasn't it? Your people were the Kheelians' enemies."

There was silence.

"It is not a time we like to speak of," Ysella said, eventually. "But yes. Once, not so long ago, we were terrible enemies. Many horrific things were done, on both sides, before the War ended."

Ben watched the children playing, and the adults talking, and all around, Dhosan and Kheelian alike laughing and celebrating.

"Your peoples do not seem to be so very different now," he observed.

Ysella laughed. "This is a good day," she said. "There are many problems here, and at times they seem insurmountable. But yes, today the festival brings us together. The story of the Lonely Moon is one both cultures share. And every day we find more similarities between us, or perhaps it is that our cultures grow more similar. That was the purpose of the migration scheme, after all. It was a condition of the peace agreement – groups from each culture whose homes or towns were destroyed were resettled across the continents to areas dominated by only Kheelians or Dhosana. To integrate, and to learn, and to understand."

"That was an...interesting approach," Ben said, both impressed and rather taken aback. "I must say it seems a little calculated. Cold, perhaps."

It was more than cold, Ben knew. While the outward purpose of the enforced migration might be the integration of both groups, it was instantly apparent to Ben that the Dhosana who now lived in Tszaaf were all but hostages to the goodwill of both nations. They would be the front lines, the first casualties, should hostilities ever resume. They were the keystone of peace. Ben remembered, with a touch of bitterness, the town meeting at Thet, and Boki, the Kheelian who had been riling up the villagers for revenge against the narms, using their fear and prejudice to drag the Kheelians down a road that could only have ended in a bloodbath. We will never be safe here again. Perhaps these peoples' violent pasts were not as repressed as they hoped. Peace was ever a journey, not a destination.

"Don't you miss your homes?" Ben asked, "And having your own people around you?"

Ysella gave a half smile. "Every day," she said. "The Dhosana long for the forests of our homeland; it is so unbearably flat and brown in this land! But if it is the price of lasting peace, we will gladly pay it. As we work to keep our own traditions alive, so too must we learn those of our former enemies. We must adapt or we all die. But perhaps you understand now why we are so dedicated to our path of peace. No teachings of violence or encouragements of aggression can be tolerated, because then everything we have worked for and sacrificed will come under threat."

Ben nodded, slowly. "I understand," he said. "Though I still believe in the circumstances what I did was correct and necessary. Were I presented with the same situation again, I do not think my actions and choices would be different. But yes, I admire your dedication to your stance. Non-violence is the ultimate path to peace, even if there are those who must take up arms to defend it, on behalf of those who can, or will, not."

Ysella looked at him then, long and intensely. Above them, the lights of a thousand flickering candles streamed up into the night towards the lonely moon.

"They tell me," she said, "that you killed the narms on the road to Thet and never looked back. Then, not two days later, you forced the Kheelians to see those creatures as sentient beings, and then yourself negotiated for peace with them. Ben the Pechnar. The negotiator. The killer. The exile. Who are you?"

"A collection of half-truths and hyperbole," murmured Ben, with a small smile, and then sighed.

"I don't know," he said.

They watched the sky in silence.

---

AN: Thank you everyone who continues to comment, favourite or just reads and enjoys. You are my world.