The night brought a much-needed chill to the Crystal Desert. The suns bore down on them during the day, harsh and unforgiving, but the moon and stars granted them relief. They gathered around a campfire, preparing an improvised funeral ceremony for the fallen, though specifically it was for Brea's mother, All-Maudra Mayrin. It was Deet's suggestion. Brea lost her only a few days ago and the pain was still fresh. Rian understood. He knew what it was like to lose someone dear, then need to run with no time to mourn or reflect. But now, on the cliffside, they could finally slow down, rest, and feel the weight of their losses.

Kylan lead the ceremony. He gave Brea a Dream Stitch and told her to bind her mother's memory to it. She hesitated. The others tried to encourage her, but she was overwhelmed, unsure of what to say. So, Rian stepped in. He'd been silent about his own grief until now. This was meant for the All-Maudra and he didn't want to overshadow that. But Brea needed support. He wanted to show her she wasn't alone, that someone else knew the pain of losing a parent to the Skeksis. So, Rian told them of his father.

He let out more than he intended. Gurjin knew how he felt about his father, as did Mira. He'd gone on enough childish rants over the years about how strict his father was. Though, Rian had to admit, he didn't make it easy. Mischief was something of a specialty of his, especially as a childling. Breaking rules, particularly ones that seemed unfair, was a constant temptation. It got him in plenty of trouble growing up, as could be expected. Who'd have guessed that talent for breaking rules would work out for him now?

But his father did not always see it that way. "He is a challenge," he overheard his father say to his grandparents once when he was a childling. Rian remembered running outside, his heart lodged in his throat and terrified he might cry. It wasn't the words that hurt, necessarily but the way he said them; cold and impersonal, like he was giving a report on a new, disappointing recruit. He got in trouble that night for staying out after dark. He never told his father what he heard. They never talked about it, about anything really. How might things have been different if they had?

But his father did teach him something. He learned to fight, and not just with a sword. He knew the value of justice, of Thra, of the lives of those around him. And he knew the importance of protecting those things. When he and his father fought the Hunter, they were not just fighting for their lives, but for the future of Thra, and they fought together.

His father's final message was to be brave. So he would. He's take those simple words and make them his mantra. He would not give up. He would fight on for Thra, for the gelfing, for his father.

Brea spoke next. She had kinder things to say. Her mother was more affectionate and openly loving. She said "I love you" often. His own father was a man of action, not words. And his father's final action was one of pure love. Still, Rian wondered what it must be like to have a parent who said the words at any chance.

Once Brea finished speaking, Kylan began a funeral dirge. Deet joined in first, then others. Kylan took out his flute and accompanied them. Hup began singing a podling dirge as well, his melody blending beautifully with the others. Rian was as comfortable singing as he was dancing, which is to say not much. He watched the others sing, all the same song, save Hup. They were gelfling from all different clans. Each had their own culture, their own traditions, their own way of life. But this they shared. They all lived, they all died, they all felt, and they all loved. And so, they all mourned, together.

Rian joined the song. As he sang, his gaze fell on Deet. They locked eyes across the fire. He focused on her voice. It was lovely and sweet, like her. The thought snuck up on him and it surprised the song from his lips. He watched her in the fire light. Her face was soft and serene as she sang. The embers reflected in her soulful eyes. She noticed him watching her and she paused as well. As she looked back at him, they shared a moment of silence.

I am so thankful to have met you, he thought, as if he could convey it through his gaze alone. She smiled at him, then continued singing.

The dream stitch began glowing in Brea's hands. It unfolded its wings, rose into the air, and drifted away on the winds.

[-]

After the ceremony, the gelfling stayed up a while longer. They split off into smaller groups. Gurjin and Naia bantered as siblings do, Brea wrote in her journal by the fire while Kylan played his flute, and Deet and Hup chatted quietly as they stargazed. Rian took a place by Gurjin and Naia and listened as they talked. There was something comforting about their back-and-forth. He'd only met Naia a handful of times before all this, but he was familiar with Gurjin's dry sarcasm and it reminded him of simpler times. Though, as he listened, he found his eyes drifting over to Deet and he noticed her stealing glances at him as well.

One by one, they drifted off to sleep. Almost the whole camp had gone to bed by the time Rian decided to turn in. However, he saw Deet still sitting alone by the cliffside. "Deet?" he said, approaching her, "are you going to sleep soon?"

"In a minute," she answered, her eyes transfixed on the stars. "I want to look at the night some more."

"The night?"

"Yes, Grottons have sensitive eyes," she explained. "We learned to see in the dark, but the suns can be quite harsh on us. My eyes have adjusted to the sunlight, but they still hurt sometimes at the end of the day. It wasn't so bad in the forest, with all trees around, but the desert is much brighter. Looking at the night feels very refreshing to me."

"Oh, I didn't know." He sat down next to her, letting his feet dangle over the cliffside. She looked at him and he could see her eyes clearer. They were so deep and expressive. Looking into them was like looking into Deet's gentle (beautiful) heart. "Maybe you should wear a hat or something? You know, with a brim? To keep the sunlight out of your eyes?"

"Oh, so it's like carrying shade around with you all the time?" She smiled like she just discovered something new. Maybe she had. There would probably be no need for a sunhat in the caves. Her world be as different to him as the surface was to her.

"Yeah, I guess it's something like that."

"That's a good idea. You surface dwellers come up with some clever things."

"Clever things come out of your caves too," he said, remembering her campfire moss trick.

Her smile softened and she turned her gaze back to the stars. "You know, I've never truly seen the stars before I came to the surface. They look so beautiful tonight. The way they reflect in the crystal sands makes it hard to tell where the night sky ends."

"I never thought of it that way," he admitted, "but you're right." And she really was. Deet had a way of turning simple things into wonder. It was all in the way she approached them. She had compassion for everyone and everything around her and she saw the best in it.

"By the way," she said, "I though what you said about your father tonight was very touching."

"Oh that," he felt himself blush for some reason. "I just said something to help Brea get her thoughts together."

"Still…" she began hesitantly, "I was there that night. I saw what happened…"

"I remember." The sheer memory felt like a knife in his heart.

"I never knew him, of course, but I think your father would be very proud of what you're trying to do."

He let out a ragged breath. "You know, you might be right about that. At least, I hope I can make him proud…" Finally.

"Tell me about him," she said, "I mean, if you want to."

"Well, my father was a hero," he began, reciting the refrain he heard his entire life. "He lead the Stonewoods to victory in the Arathim Wars. He was stern, disciplined. He wanted me to be the same but…" His heart clenched.

"But that's not you," she finished for him.

He shook his head. "No…that's not me…"

"Well," she said, her voice soft, "I like you the way you are."

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Thank you."

"I guess I'm lucky. My family never wanted me to be anything except what I am."

"That must be nice," he answered before unconsciously letting out a forlorn tsk.

"What is it?"

He hesitated a moment, wondering what to say. He rarely talked about his father to anyone but his friends. Was Deet not his friend? He knew she was kind and gentle, but still brave enough to leave her home to save Thra and rush to the aid of a friend in need. She was a good person and I good friend. He was sure he could talk to her without judgement.

"Whenever I think about my father, I can't help but wonder what might have been. His last moments showed me that everything he did, he did out of love for me. Still I wonder, what if he was more affectionate, or more encouraging, or said the words more…" His voice broke as guilt overwhelmed him. "It's awful. He gave his life for me. How can I still want more?"

"Is it about wanting more?" she asked, moving closer to him. His own sorrow reflected in her eyes. "Maybe it's what you said, wondering about what might have been. From what you said…" she stopped to finds the right words, "it sounded like you were just starting to form a great team. The Hunter stole that from you both. It's only natural to wonder. Besides, you must have had some other good times together. Did it always feel like you were just a soldier?"

He took s breath to collect himself. "Well, when I started my training, it did. He didn't want to show any favoritism, so he treated my like any other recruit. And when I was a childling, he was usually too busy leading the castle guard to spend much time with me. So, I got up to a lot of mischief. It seemed the only way to get his attention when he was on duty. I understand now that he had a job to do, but still, growing up was a little…"

"Lonely?"

"Yes…" he admitted. "It wasn't all bad, though. I spent my summers at Stone-in-the-Wood with my grandparents. I looked forward to it every year. I could run and play anywhere I pleased and I didn't have to be mindful to stay out of the Skeksis' way. Even better, my father would come visit me for one week every month and we'd spend all our time together. We'd go fishing, or camping, or fizzgig hunting. He taught me how to use the stars as a map, how to make a campfire, how to live off the land… He'd show me a new skill once, maybe twice, then tell me to keep trying until I figured out how to do it myself." A small laugh escaped his lips. "You know, part of me is surprised that, on the day I came of age, he didn't drop me off in the middle of the Endless Forrest with nothing but a hunting knife and tell me to find my way back."

"What did he do?"

"He gave me my first drink, well, as far as he knew, as my first sword. He congratulated me on graduating my training and said he was proud of me." A smile came to his face as the memory warmed him. "My father was a soldier to the core, but he did have a softer side. I think I got to see it more than anyone."

"I saw him fighting alongside you. He seemed very brave. I see that in you as well."

The smile of his lips stayed as pride grew in his heart. "I'm not much like my father, but he taught me a lot. I don't think he expected me to apply his lessons quite the way I am, but I will keep fighting as he taught me, for him, for the gelfling… and for Mira."

"You cared a great deal for her," Deet said, moving closer to him.

"I loved her," he answered firmly. He didn't want that fact to get lost in the story. He wanted people to remember who Mira was. She was more than what the Skeksis did to her. She was a person with a great laugh, a taste for adventure, people who loved her, and a brilliant future that was stolen from her.

"Actually," he went on, "before she died, I was planning on going to Stone-in-the-Wood on my next leave and bringing her back a stone."

"A stone?" Deet asked, a trace of amusement in her voice.

"It's a Stonewood tradition," he explained. "When a gelfling proposes marriage to another gelfling, they bring their beloved a stone from a special place where their love bloomed."

"What was your special place?"

"Well, she'd heard so many stories about my summers in Stone-in-the-Wood, she insisted on seeing it with me. So, the next time we had leave together, I took her with me. I showed her all my favorite places. We went to the open-air brewery which makes the best ales. We went ziplining down the tallest trees. I introduced her to my grandmother and they got along great. Her favorite place, though, was a swimming hole just outside the village. I took her there for a moonlight swim. I remember, she'd just jumped out from behind a waterfall. She was laughing. She always seemed to have a joke in her head. The moonlight bounced off her hair, making her glow. I thought she looked so beautiful. I told her I loved her. I didn't plan it. It just came out. She kissed me so hard I we fell beneath the surface of the water. I was planning to bring her a skipping stone from the water's side and aks her to marry me on the castle's observatory."

Tears came unbidden to his eyes. He'd only noticed they were there when he felt them on his cheeks. Deet laid a hand on his back, gently as she was named. She didn't say anything. She didn't need to. This was exactly what he needed. He needed to stop, to think, to grieve, to cry. There was never time before. Tears always came to his eyes when he dreamfasted that horrible day, but every time, he needed to wipe them away quickly and carry on. Now, he could let them fall, let them dry on his cheeks and leave their salt behind. Having Deet there, feeling her touch and knowing she listened, just made him feel safer.

"Feeling better?" she asked after his tears slowed.

He wiped the remains away. "A little." His pent-up sorrows had drained with his tears, leaving relief in its wake. The pain of loss was still there. That sort of grief left a scar. But it dulled and left room for him to feel other things again.

"I can tell you loved them, and miss them. I'll be they know it too," she said, moving her other hand to his. "I'm sorry, I wish I had something better to say."

"Don't be," he said softly. "Just talking to you helped a lot."

"If you ever need to talk again, I'll be right beside you," she said, and she meant it.

"Thank you, Deet. It means a lot to me." He curled his fingers around her hand. "Maybe I'll get to return the favor someday. Hopefully not under the same circumstances."

She let out a sad, but amused breath. "No, I certainly hope not."

"But if you ever need anything, you can always ask me."

"Thank you, Rian," she said, a smile coming to her lips. She looked back up at the sky. "And maybe I will get one of those hats you suggested. Though, your sky lights aren't all bad. The stars and the moon really are beautiful."

"Yes," he said, his gaze still fixed on Deet. He watched the stars glittering in her eyes. They really were… "Beautiful."

He turned his had back to the night sky. She was right. It was beautiful, but not just the stars. The night breeze cooled the air. The world was painted in shades of blue. Everything was quiet and still… Peaceful was the word he was looking for. Funny, in all the chaos he somehow forgot. But that's what it was, peace. Not the false peace the Skeksis promised, but true peace. Everything in Thra working in harmony as it should. This is what they fought for, the chance to bring Thra back into balance.

He felt something heavy land on his shoulder. He looked down to see Deet's head leaning against him. "Deet?"

"Oh," she gasped, suddenly lifting her head again. "I'm sorry. I must be getting sleepy."

"We should both be getting to bed." He swung his feet back onto solid ground and stood up. "Come on," he said, offering his hand. "The edge of a cliff is no place to be nodding off." She smiled as she took it and he felt her warmth radiate off her.

They joined the others by the campfire and fell asleep alongside the rest of them. As he drifted off, Rian thought about their conversation. It was a simple thing, just one friend listening to another, but he was finding he needed simple things in his life. In the midst of all the fighting and heartache, peace was what he longed for most.