The Mandalorian walked beside me, his boots crunching in the sand and the cape behind him swaying lazily in the wind. When we were a comfortable enough distance away, he spoke first. "Is there a name for the power you possess?"

I kept my eyes steady on the foreground in front of me while I spoke. "Yes. I am a bender."

This wasn't something the Mandalorian has ever heard of. He seemed skeptical. "And there are more of you?"

I sighed. "Yes."

"Where? Tatooine?"

"No," I said quickly. "I don't know. It's been a decade since I've last seen another bender," we trudged through the sand together, the sunsets twisting the colors in the sky between purple and bright orange. "When the Death Star was destroyed for the first time, people were panic stricken where I was. There were celebrations happening across other planets, yes, but I was part of an enslaved, underground community of benders. The Empire used us to bend the earth and create buildings, clean water systems, whatever they needed. We were anxious to see what they would do to us when the revolution hit."

"I've never heard of benders." the Mandalorian said. I nodded.

"That's not surprising. We were either hiding, or, like I said: underground as puppets working for the Empire."

"Were you in Nevarro during this?"

I glanced at him from my peripherals and sucked in a lot of air. The Mandalorian recognized this, feeling a subtle string of empathy for me.

"We fought back when the revolution broke," my voice breaking. "A lot of my friends and family died that day."

We were silent for a few minutes, the wind and scattered sand creating a soothing sound that allowed us to steep in the tragedy.

"We were severely outnumbered and losing the fight against the Empire. So, I created my own escape plan. I did battle beside others, trying to help as many people as I could," I was trying to reason with myself again. I paused, pivoting my mind away from decisions that were already decided, and tried not to continue to carry the burden of the past. "But there was too much chaos. I bended a tunnel into the side of the city and waited for things to settle. I am ashamed I didn't stay to help my people fight. They needed me."

The Mandalorian glanced sideways, his judgements still ambiguous in regard to my character. Noticing this, my eyes flicked ahead as I spoke.

"I…had a daughter," I said, the words rolling off my tongue and feeling foreign. The Mandalorian caught his breath in his throat, stunned. To ease some of my own anxieties, I chuckled a bit at his reaction. "Yes, I know. I had her when I was very young," I swallowed hard and touched my neck where I wore a thin leather necklace, a piece of her that I still carried with me. "She was only an infant. When I went back to find her, it was too late."

We walked a bit further into the desert. If there was anything I appreciated about myself, it was that I was proficient at compartmentalizing. I knew if I acknowledged the hissing memories of my daughter that lingered within me, the edges of reality blurring and threatening darkness, I would embarrass myself and possibly break down in the middle of this hot pit. Beside me, the Mandalorian began to understand my conflicting fear surrounding the situation of the child. Having any sort of association with them drew me dangerously close to exposure to anyone Imperial, something I apparently fought so hard to avoid. That being said, the Mandalorian couldn't help but think of the obvious.

"All of that, and you managed to find some safety on a planet somewhere—" he still wasn't sure where or why I was on Tatooine, but he'd find that out later, "—why are you here, helping me?"

I raised one eyebrow at him, and my lip curled into a sarcastic smile. "Seriously? Because you asked me to."

He wasn't a fool. He stopped walking, a quarry surrounding us, feeling as though we were hidden and far enough away from the town and any potentially watchful eyes. I turned around and sighed, facing him.

"I really can't explain to you why I'm here. I know I could have stayed on Trask, or continued on to some other planet," my eyes fell to the sack the Mandalorian carried, small green ears poking out from the top. "I feel drawn to him," I confessed.

The child poked the rest of his head out of the bag on the Mandalorian's side, turning around to bathe his small face in the sunsets. He pointed one tiny finger out towards them and cooed peacefully, fascinated by the quick changes in light and sudden darkness that was beginning to surround us. The Mandalorian watched him as he did so and put his hand lightly on the top of his head.

"It would be unwise to ignore the obvious."

A thin smile shaped my face, and I gave the Mandalorian an affirming nod, unsure if he was reciprocating. To address the child's behavior out loud felt monumental, though perhaps only to the Mandalorian and I. He was fickle. His trust was certainly harder to break through yet seeing how the child treated me made him crack, even if it was thin.

I was unpleasantly snapped back into my usual hesitation just moments after. "When I was a child, bounty hunters used to come to where I lived and take my people away," I stared at his rifle holstered on his back as I spoke. "The Empire found reasons to come for us and would want people dead if they disobeyed orders," I frowned, staring into his visor. "Once people were taken, they never came back."

The Mandalorian had always sensed a hostility about Quinn that he assumed was just because she was frightened. He was used to seeing folks become skittish in his presence due to the pain the Empire caused, and it wasn't becoming any less common since the Death Stars were destroyed. Her words were methodical and precise, imprinting and stinging his skin like tiny blades and for a moment, though scarce, he speculated on his life. The compulsory reaction she had whenever he walked close to her was due to various attacks she encountered in a former life—she was afraid of him. He felt slightly ashamed of this.

"I'm sorry."

I gave him another nod, this one curt and formal, and crossed my arms. I decided to change the subject for now. "So, Beskar? From what I take you also don't remove your helmet ever, hm?" He shook his head. "A true Mandalorian."

"And you can control fire and ice," he said, pacing, playing me at my own game. "And earth and air?"

I stood still, watching him walk around and behind me, a prickly feeling under my skin. "Yes."

"And metal is manufactured from the planets themselves, so in turn, you believe you can bend Beskar?"

I shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. That was mostly a joke."

He stopped, directly behind me, out of sight. "Try."

I turned on my heel to face him. "What are you getting at?"

"Show me what else your abilities allow you to do."

I let my arms hang by my sides and closed my eyes tightly, lessening the dryness. I ached for some humidity. The child gurgled where he sat, watching the exchange between the Mandalorian and I, content within the satchel. I took a few steps forward and twisted my right foot, the ground responding and creating several pillars around me. Sand cascaded off the tall columns and caused a rustling sound to surround us, draping me in a hue of dust. I sensed the energy from the sun beyond the horizon and steadied my stance, cartwheeling my arms and bending fire around me in one perfectly round circle. As a finishing touch I bended the magma within Nevarro's core up to the surface of the ground, creating a circular trench of lava to enclose around me. The Mandalorian stood still, practically yawning, his shoulder just barely grazing one of the pillars. I held my hands out and raised my eyebrows, but he wasn't impressed.

"The sand makes this place all…" I scanned the area around me, "Fuzzy. Plus, there's no water here, or anything living for that matter," I crossed my arms again, dismissing the elements and covering the magma, feeling defensive.

He began pacing again. He pulled a shoulder cuff off of his armor and tossed it by my feet.

"Try that."

"I can't guarantee that I can get it back to its original integrity, even if I do manage to bend it."

His head cocked to the side, the curiosity in him greater than his desire for perfect armor. To himself, the Mandalorian thought if I could put a dent in his Beskar, there might be a chance I could do damage to other threats made of metal—and, rather disturbingly, he needed to know if I could turn on him by destroying his armor with him inside of it.

The Mandalorian's silence was answer enough. I sighed and tightened my lips together, focusing on the metal in front of me. I felt its energy pulsing through the ground. It was radiating more than I was ready for, and the second I tried to center my chi on it, a loud ringing noise entered my head. I yelped out loud, covering both my ears with my hands, and recoiled.

The humming subsided. I rubbed my temples and shook my head. "I'm not touching that."

"Why not?"

I sat on a nearby rock and put my head in my hands. The dry desert air made me wish I had something to drink. The child managed to climb out of the satchel and stumble towards me, reaching his arms out and blinking slowly. I smiled and picked him up, nestling him safely in my lap. The Mandalorian was subtly taken aback at the image he was witnessing, and in an attempt to brush it off, he cleared his throat.

"It isn't any kind of metal I'm used to," I said finally, adjusting the kid's clothing, unaware of the Mandalorian's swift discomfort. "It has this energy behind it that I've never learned how to control."

"Haven't you been able to bend metal in the past?"

I nodded once. "Yes. Ships. Engines. Anything made of steel, iron, etcetera."

The Mandalorian was beginning to get frustrated at how vague I was being. "I don't understand this."

I gave him a severe look, my teeth baring in defense. Personally, I was sharing a lot of information with him, things I hadn't spoken of in years. Revealing my identity took some force. I wasn't going to justify the barriers of my abilities to him. When he noticed my expression had changed, I thought I saw him squirm, though that would've been uncharacteristic.

The Mandalorian sighed, his temper dropping. Sensing he'd backed off a bit, I brought my legs up close, crossing them underneath the child. He babbled happily in my lap, tugging at my sleeve and smiling wide. The Mandalorian was quietly astonished at this scene. While I stared out beyond the dunes, he admired how comfortable the two of us looked, sitting together as though it were habitual.

"How did you manage to escape the knot I tied?"

"You mean while I was unconscious?" I spat, not feeling particularly pleased with him right now. He knew this and looked away apologetically. I took a deep breath, one that filled my lungs fully, and let it out slowly before answering. "I used water bending from a nearby cup. I'd show you, but there's no water in this place."

The Mandalorian reached behind him and pulled out a flask from his belt, popping the top off and offering it to me. My eyebrow rose in interest. While remaining in my seat, I centered my chi on the flask and felt the water between my fingers. I curled them together and up from the spout came water, floating in the air before him. He was quite speechless with this, watching my movements all while sitting still with the child, who cooed in admiration, in my lap. I separated the water into two parts, putting half back into the flask.

"It's too dry out here," I said, explaining why. "It could all evaporate."

He twisted the cap on the flask and replaced it on his belt, watching me. I moved my arms slowly and the water became thin, spreading out like a sheet between us. Quickly, I flattened my hand and brought it down at an angle—the water moved with such force that it became sharp and acted like a knife. It followed my demands and, in one swift movement, sliced through the Mandalorian's strap on his chest, causing the rifle to fall to the ground. The child laughed in my lap; the performance satisfactory to him. I couldn't help but chuckle with him.

The Mandalorian picked up his rifle, examining the cut in the strap. It was cleaner than any cut he'd seen from even a newly sharpened knife. "Not bad."

I pulled the water from the ground, making sure to reserve it. I bended it like a spout into my mouth, drinking it and noticing the Mandalorian staring at me.

"I can't bend pollutants or bacteria, so technically, its cleaner than it was in that flask."

"What other kinds of restrictions are there on your abilities?"

I shrugged one shoulder, reaching into my pocket and handing the child dried fruit. He gulped it down, settling into my lap further. "I can't bend fire if there is no sun. The amount of hot gas it produces helps to fuel that," I leaned back, resting on my hands. "And, from what I remember, air bending when we're out of orbit is nearly impossible."

The Mandalorian was examining the strap from his rifle, thinking he might have to sew it back together when we got into town. "And anything special I might be interested in knowing?"

"Well, water bending may be the most versatile. You've seen how I can control ice," I paused then, choosing to say my next few words carefully. "And every living organism has some kind of water within them."

We exchanged ambiguous looks. I was unsure if he was picking up what I was saying—and he felt a sense of danger with what I was insinuating. Though he wasn't sure what it was, he knew I intended for him to chew on it.

It was getting dark. We were beneath the stars, now, the last of the light disappearing. The Mandalorian was content with how much information I shared with him. I put the child in the satchel on my back, where he fell into a deep sleep, and we made our way back to the town.

On our walk back into the center of town in Nevarro, I tried to ask as much information from him as I could without pushing it. The child seemed to be of interest to old war lords and the Empire, though the Mandalorian couldn't explain why. Not due to lack of trust, but he truly wasn't sure what they were after. I thought I sensed some hesitation in him and was briefly reminded of his reservations from earlier in the day. Surely, he was keeping something from me. I put a pin in this thought and moved on, trying to search my memories for answers on where I'd seen this child previously—and though he was familiar, whether it was in a book or in person—I conveniently couldn't remember anything. The last thing the Mandalorian shared before he turned in for the evening was that we needed to go to Corvus, where we would meet a woman with some kind of important knowledge, who would help lead us where the child should be.