Without supplies to unpack or weapons to unload and check, 'getting settled' took all of ten minutes once Din and Grogu reached the barn. Like everything else in the village, the space was largely unchanged: baskets lining shelves on the walls, farming supplies and a few crates of supplies taking up one side, a pile of straw in one corner used to replace the stuffings of the mattresses in the hut. Even the cradle Grogu had slept in last time was still there. He set his son on a crate and handed him the shift knob from the Crest to keep him occupied then dropped the bag by one wall, releasing the Rising Phoenix from his back and leaning it against the wood. He also removed the bandoliers strapped across his chest and around his right shin, along with the detonators from his belt; fighting wasn't his focus this time, and while he'd still keep his blaster and the Darksaber with him, he was determined to use them only as a last resort.

Light footfalls sounded on the step outside, and he turned to see Winta standing in the doorway, a stack of blankets in her hands and a small basket slung over her arm.

"It's okay; you can come in." She did so with a shy smile- which made her look more like her mother than ever- before making a predictable bee-line for Grogu. She set the blankets on another crate then turned slightly toward Din.

"We picked the first of the spring berries yesterday." She tipped her head toward Grogu. "Can he have some?"

"I suppose that would be all right. But only a few- he'd sit there and eat all evening if he got the chance." Especially if the offerings were something other than ration packs or dehydrated nutritional strips.

She held out the basket toward him. "They're for both of you." A feeling deep in his gut told him the instructions had come directly from Omera, but he didn't have the heart to erase the hopeful look on the girl's face by falling back on habit and insisting he was fine. He reached out and plucked a few of the small orange orbs from the basket, waiting until her back was turned to slip the edge of his helmet up a few inches and pop the fruit into his mouth. The berries were bright and tart, the juice washing over his tongue and igniting an unexpected craving for more. Too many months had passed since they last had the luxury of fresh fruit, and he selfishly hoped she would leave the basket as he hung back and watched her offer a berry to Grogu. He took it from her eagerly, hesitating only a second to study it before stuffing it into his mouth with a curious coo. Winta giggled and handed him another, which instantly followed the first before he even finished chewing. The kid's cheeks bulged and a dribble of juice ran down his chin, drawing a long-suffering sigh from Din when he reached for a third.

"Finish those first, Grogu." Winta's head snapped around to stare at him, her hand poised in mid-air to wipe the stickiness from his son's face.

"Is that his name- Grogu?"

"Yes. I found someone who was able to communicate with him, and she told me that's what his name is."

She smiled fondly and finished wiping his face. "I like it; it suits him." She handed Grogu two more berries then set aside the basket, graciously holding to Din's request of 'only a few.' She perched on the edge of another crate and pulled the kid into her lap, stroking his ear as he finished his snack. "We missed you the past few years. Where have you been?"

To his surprise there was no accusation or hurt in her tone, only curiosity and maybe a hint of longing expected in a child who had never left her home world.

"A lot of places," he answered. "Mostly here on the Outer Rim: Nevarro, Trask, Mandalore, Tatooine-"

"What's it like there?"

"Tatooine?" Her interest in the planet surprised him, but then again maybe it was the only one of the four she had ever heard of.

She nodded. "I've heard some of the traders that come through town talk about it- and Jos of course. Is it as hot as they say?"

"Worse, and the nights are usually just as cold as the day is hot. We probably wouldn't go there as much as we do if we didn't have friends there. It's a harsh place to live, but the people are resilient- strong, stubborn, and tough."

"So you fit right in." The second the words left her mouth her eyes went wide and a dark flush of embarrassment flamed in her cheeks. Din likewise felt his face warm under his helmet then was caught off guard by the bubble of laughter that nearly slipped from his throat. Clearly she wasn't the same timid little girl he had met the last time he was here. But then again, it was nice to know that she still felt comfortable enough with him to let such a comment slip.

Her gaze dropped to the floor, her fingers gently scratching a spot at the base of Grogu's ears, which drew a low purr of enjoyment from his little body. A moment passed before she seemed to work up the pluck to meet his masked gaze again. 'Will you tell me about some of your travels?"

Din leaned back against the wall of the barn, crossing his feet at the ankles- a stall for time as he tried to think of a story fit for young ears. There weren't many to choose from that didn't involve him fighting for his life or killing Imps who were after the kid. He briefly considered telling her about how he met Bo-Katan and her Nite Owls on Trask, but the ache of losing such a close friend and comrade was still too fresh for him to trust himself to tell it. That left… the krayt dragon.

"Incidentally we were on Tatooine," he began without preamble. "I was looking for other Mandalorians and heard there was one in a town called Mos Pelgo. We traveled there, but it turned out it was just a man who had bought a set of armor from some Jawas- bothersome scavengers that steal and resell all sorts of things- and was serving as the town marshal. Only a Mandalorian is supposed to wear beskar, and he wasn't willing to just give it to me, so we made a deal… " He went on to describe the agreement he struck with Cobb Vanth, the tense meeting with the Tuskens to secure their cooperation, and then finally arriving at the behemoth's lair. The story came easier than it would have if he tried to talk about Bo-Katan, largely due to the news from Boba the last time he visited that Cobb hadn't been killed by Cad Bane after all, thanks to the intervention of the same Mods from Mos Eisley that had saved Fennec. Guilt for being the cause of attempted murder had plagued him for some time, but finally laying it to rest had been one of the many things he had dealt with during the long hours in hyperspace on this trip.

Winta sat silently on the crate, thoroughly engrossed in the tale as it played out. Even Grogu watched him intently with wide eyes- which Din found rather amusing, considering his son had been there for the entire ordeal. He just reached the moment when he had grabbed the lead to the bantha laden with explosives when he suddenly became aware of another presence in the doorway of the barn. He turned his head slightly, and the words trailed off when he caught sight of Omera framed in the golden sunlight of early evening, trying to maintain a scowl at her daughter even while her dark eyes were alight with interest in the story. Checking the chrono in his helm as he pushed off the wall to stand straight he was startled to realize over an hour had passed since Winta first appeared in the barn.

Winta also noticed and her eyes went wide for the second time that evening. "Oh no." She scrambled off the crate and settled Grogu back in his spot before rushing to Omera's side, an apology already tumbling out. "I'm so sorry, Mother. I brought them the blankets and fruit like you asked then we started visiting and I asked him to tell me a story and…" Red flooded her cheeks and she hung her head, her fingers twisting together in nervous knots until her mother's hand came to rest gently on her shoulder.

"It's alright, darling. I figured I'd find you here." She tipped Winta's face up to meet her gaze then offered a forgiving smile. "Run inside and check the bread for me; I'll be along in a moment. Maybe he will finish his story for you after supper." She nodded once then skipped down the steps and raced for the hut, disappearing inside as Omera turned back to Din.

"I apologize for delaying her," he offered, taking a step toward her. "I didn't realize she had responsibilities inside."

Her smile returned. "Don't apologize. Better she was here with you than off with her friends, and it looks like she was quite enjoying hearing about your adventure. I had no idea you were such a story-teller."

"I'm not- normally. But she's hard to say no to."

She chuckled, a note of agreement carrying in the sound that made his heart do a strange skip in his chest. His resolve was further tested when she closed the space between them by another couple feet, arms crossed in teasing challenge. "And when am I going to get to hear all those stories?"

"Soon." Her gaze remained on him a few beats longer, clearly anticipating him to say more, but when he offered nothing else her arms fell back to her sides and she withdrew a step.

"Well, I'll be back with supper for the two of you in a little while." She gave a single slight nod to herself, turned, and without another word strode from the barn. He stared after her long after she had slipped through the back door into the hut, his hand absently tensing into a fist at his side as a long-dormant longing awakened inside him and began slowly ebbing into his veins.

He blew out a breath and shook his head at his own foolishness, but the actions did little to stop the feeling from transforming into the beginning of another long list of what ifs. The only thing that stopped him from fully falling down that slippery slope of dangerous thinking was the noisy sound of chewing and the happy trills that always meant trouble he caught coming from behind him. Biting back another long sigh he turned to find Grogu predictably devouring more of the berries, his cheeks stuffed with fruit and hands covered in their sticky sweetness. It wasn't the worst thing he had ever helped himself to, but Din dreaded the task of trying to clean the juice from his son's robe. On second thought, maybe he should thank the little womp rat for giving him something to distract him from the unwelcome direction of his thoughts. He scooped up Grogu, ignoring his squeals of protest at suddenly being pulled away from his snack, and after hooking the basket on a peg high on the wall, Din settled him back on the crate, dropped to the floor, and went to work undoing the fastenings of the outer robe swaddling him. Setting aside the soiled garment he turned away for a brief moment to grab the bag holding his other set of clothes and a canteen, only to turn back and find Grogu on the other side of the room, his eyes squinted and one hand lifted towards the basket. Din pushed to his feet with a sigh and stalked over to pick him up again just as the basket began to lift a fraction of an inch from its place.

"We're going to have dinner soon, ad'ika," he scolded, returning his son to his spot. "And it'll be more than rations, I promise." Apart from a disgruntled raspberry, the guarantee of real food seemed to settle him long enough for Din to wet a rag with some water from the canteen and wipe his hands and face then help him into his second robe. Thankfully none of the juice had soaked through to the beskar shirt underneath; he knew from painful experience how hard it was to get the tiny links of mail clean. He wiped off when he could then rolled the soiled garment into a neat ball, stuffed it into the bag, and then handed Grogu the shift knob from where he had dropped it when Winta arrived. Satisfied that he was distracted for the time being, Din stood and surveyed the barn again, looking for something to do to keep himself busy. Even though he knew Omera would insist he was a guest and therefore didn't need to help with anything, it rubbed his conscience the wrong way to be idle for any length of time. As always, the barn was clean and tidy so organizing things for her wasn't an option, and he knew she didn't keep any droids or mechanics that might need maintenance. Maybe some of the other villagers had work that he could offer to help with, but that inquiry would have to wait until morning.

With no other options for ways to spend his time, he perched on the edge of a second crate, dug a second rag out of his bag, and pulled his blaster from its holster. Grogu scooted closer as he began to disassemble the piece for a thorough cleaning, his eyes fixed on Din's fingers in curiosity. The kid knew better than to mess with his buir's weapons- whether they were intact or disassembled- but this was the first time he had shown any interest in something so mundane as cleaning and maintaining one. "What the heck; you might as well start to learn." And so he laid out the parts to the blaster on the crate between him and Grogu as he took them apart, detailing each and its function. Once everything was laid out he cleaned the pieces then reassembled the weapon, explaining the process as he went.

"Isn't he a little young to be learning that just yet?" Din's head jerked up just as he locked the gas canister back into place- the final step in the process- to see Omera standing just inside the barn once again, a tray of steaming dishes in her hands. How long had she been standing there? This made two times in as many hours that she had snuck up on him- a fact that would have been humorous if it wasn't such a glaring testament to his lack of awareness since arriving in the village.

"He's a Mandalorian now; it's a necessary part of his training." Din forced a bit of levity into his tone as he holstered the weapon and stood. "But don't worry; I won't let him shoot it just yet."

Thankfully his attempt at a joke had its desired effect, drawing a laugh from her that she quickly tried -unsuccessfully- to suppress.

"Well thank goodness for that." She crossed the room and set the tray on the narrow table underneath the window where Din had taken most of his meals during their first visit. She slid two plates and two bowls from the tray and meticulously arranged a set of utensils beside each setting then flitted back toward the door, the tray tucked under her arm. "I'll leave you to your meal. If you don't mind finishing your story later I know Winta would love it."

The temptation arose to tease Omera about her daughter being the only one who wanted to hear the rest of the story, but he bit down on the words, instead giving her a nod. "I don't mind." He waved his hand toward the barn ceiling. "And thank you for letting us stay here again. Your generosity means a lot."

Her smile returned, this time full of a bashfulness that Din hadn't seen since their first meeting, and a blush lightly stained the crest of her cheeks. "It's our pleasure- and not just because of everything you've done for us." Her face flushed a shade darker with the confession. Had she meant to say the second part, or had it slipped out unbidden? He suspected the latter when she suddenly turned and started for the doorway. She hesitated at the threshold and glanced back over her shoulder, one hand braced on the frame, the gold of twilight once again surrounding her in an other-worldly corona. "It's… good to have you back, Mando. I'm glad you didn't forget about us." She was gone before he could form a response, leaving him standing dumbly in the middle of the barn, staring at the space she had disappeared through.

How could I forget you?

Din's face flushed a split second later at the realization that the words hadn't just echoed in his mind- they had slipped quietly past his lips and now hung in the silence, taunting him. His only consolation was that Omera was out of earshot and couldn't possibly have heard his confession. But the fact that he had spoken it out loud bothered him all the same. He wasn't here to rekindle what had been between them three years ago. Nothing had changed; he still didn't belong on Sorgan- even more so now that they had taken back Mandalore.

Just because you don't belong here doesn't mean you don't belong with her. He shoved aside the traitorous thought, which sounded suspiciously like Cara Dune, and reached down to pick up Grogu, who was trying his hardest to see over the edge of the table at what they had been brought for supper. As forewarned it was simple fare- bread, roasted vegetables, and bowls of what smelled like ash-rabbit stew- but he couldn't have cared less. The simplicity reminded him of his formative years with Eitan Moresh, who was a surprisingly good cook- for a self-imposed bachelor- even during times when foodstuffs were scarce. Cooking real food was rarely if ever an option for Din when he was on the hunt, but he still did his best to remember what his buir had taught him about the culinary arts.

Grogu plopped down on the tabletop, grabbed his spoon, and immediately began to devour the stew, pausing just long enough to shove a bit of bread into his mouth in between bites. Din slipped off his buy'ce, setting it on the table beside his plate, and followed suit but at a much slower pace, taking the time to savor the meal in between admonitions for his son to slow down and finish chewing before taking another bite. Din tore off a hunk of bread and popped it into his mouth, holding back a groan of satisfaction. No portion bread or haashun in the galaxy could ever compare to the taste of real bread- soft and tender in the middle, with a thick outer crust and mouth-watering aroma. The fact that it was made by Omera somehow made it even better. He could almost picture her standing in her kitchen, doing what she loved and pouring all of her care into the food that would feed the four of them.

As soon as the image began to form he squashed it, fighting to discard the train of thought altogether, but deep inside he knew it was a battle he was destined to lose.

Or'dinii.