Nineteen hour days meant shorter nights and less time for sleep, but Din was used to catching a few hours of shut eye here and there when he could. A straight six hours was a luxury he almost never enjoyed, and even though his internal clock woke him before sunrise he still felt more rested than he had in a long time. Never one for food first thing in the morning, he fished a ration bar out of his pack and handed it to Grogu to chew on then fastened on his cloak to help shield him from the sharp morning wind whistling across the planet's barren surface. He grimaced at the pitiful condition of the duraweave fabric that now barely reached his knees and was riddled with holes. He lost his extra kute and cloak when the Razor Crest was destroyed on Tython, and while replacing the extra set of clothing had been a high priority, finding a new cape was not. Now it looked like that was going to have to wait a little longer.

With a sign of resignation he pushed aside the tent flap and stepped out into the pre-dawn light, the sky a soft display of pastels and gold. To his surprise he wasn't the first one up; a quick scan of the camp revealed a handful of individuals already outside their tents, tending cookfires or performing various maintenance tasks on their weapons and armor. Not everyone was as lucky as he was to be the wearer of pure beskar armor, and no doubt the Armorer would be busy in the coming days making repairs to damaged pieces. Hopefully she had time for him now. She had been the voice of reason and instruction for so long he wouldn't dream of seeking out anyone else to share his plans with before her.

Her tent was only a short walk away, but he took the time to greet and chat briefly with the others that he encountered along the way. Most of them were members of his own Tribe, but a few of the survivors were also mingled into this part of the camp and seemed open to conversation. It was a promising development that the lines drawn between the sects in the camp were, at least at first glance, beginning to fade.

He hesitated a few steps shy of entering the dwelling, suddenly unsure of how to announce his presence. The forge was always open to anyone to enter and confer with her once she acknowledged them, but her personal quarters were a different matter entirely. The decision was made for him a second later when the flap flew open and a small figure burst out, nearly plowing straight into Din. The bare-faced child caught herself at the last second, and a bright smile lit up her features when she looked up at him.

"Ba'vodu Din!" She launched herself at him, her slender arms clamping with surprising force around his waist, and he staggered back a half-step in surprise.

"Su cuy'gar, Ona." He stroked a gloved hand awkwardly against the golden braids woven tightly against her scalp. The child had been the last person he expected to see sharing quarters with the Armorer, but then a second later he remembered a conversation he had overheard while they settled on Nevarro about her taking in Ona until she swore the Creed and could begin learning the secrets of a Mandalorian goran. It made him glad to know there was someone of the next generation to carry on their traditions; like so many who survived the Purge, their Armorer was the last of her line and the only one he had ever met, even in all of his travels across the galaxy. But then again, he could probably count on one hand the Mandalorians of any tribe or creed he had encountered. He cleared his throat. "Is your ward still inside? I need to speak with her." The girl's arms fell away and she took a small step backward.

"No, she already left to begin work on the forge." Her words came out in a near-perfect stream of Mando'a; clearly she was excelling in her studies and would be ready to join the Tribe as a full-fledged member soon. Her attention was quickly stolen by Grogu, who had been standing so patiently by Din's boot, silently watching the exchange with curious brown eyes, that Din nearly forgot he was there. Ona crouched in front of him to meet his eye-level and extended a hand and a smile to him. "Hello again. I remember you; you're the one with the special powers that everyone talks about." Grogu stared at her for a moment then turned inquiring eyes to Din, which he had long ago learned was a wordless request for permission. He acquiesced with a nod of his head, and Grogu took a step forward and wrapped a three-digit hand around Ona's pointer finger, babbling out a string of toddler chatter. The contact sent her into a round of giggles and she looked up to Din again. "Can he stay here and play with me while you go to the forge?"

Sudden apprehension overtook him before he could answer, the events of the past few days flashing through his memory again. They had cleared the area of Imps, and the pair would be surrounded by armed Mandalorian warriors, but the thought of letting the kid out of his sight still left Din with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. But the hope in Ona's eyes also gave him pause in saying no, leaving him between a proverbial rock and a hard place. He held back a deep sigh and pivoted to scan the area around them for someone who might supervise the children, his gaze finally landing on an individual seated next to a fire only a couple tents over. A blanket was spread out on the ground beside him, the disassembled parts of various weapons scattered across it, and his fingers were busy at work meticulously cleaning the gas canister housing of his blaster. He recognized the charcoal gray and dull crimson armor: it was Teren Rynad, another traditionally-minded Mandalorian originally from another sector of the galaxy who had joined their Covert with his wife after the Purge. The two men had bonded quickly, both having lost buire on the battlefield, and Din trusted him implicitly. He closed the space between them in a few long strides. Teren looked up at his approach, setting the blaster aside and lifting a hand in greeting. "Su cuy'gar, Teren. I have a favor to ask." He tipped his head toward the children. "I need to visit the Armorer, and Ona asked to keep Grogu. Would it be agreeable to you to keep an eye on them while I'm gone?"

"Of course." There was a smile in his voice, and as he stood he added, with a hint of teasing, "Mand'alor."

"Ne'johaa." He threw the ireless command right back, earning a hearty chuckle from the other man. Din rolled his eyes and turned on his heel, but he wouldn't deny it felt good to joke around and indulge in a bit of levity at such a serious time. He stopped in front of the children and crouched down in front of Grogu. "I'll be back soon, ad'ika. Be good for Teren and don't get into any trouble."

"Patu." He still didn't know what that meant, but he took it as an affirmative and patted the kid gently on his head before straightening and heading out of camp.

The imposing, spiked trinitite formations on either side of him formed a shallow sort of gulley, funneling the wind through and intensifying its bite so that he pulled his cape over his shoulder and wrapped it around himself for extra insulation. The sun was finally peaking over the horizon, but it would be another few hours before the surface of the planet warmed under its heat. If he remembered the seasonal cycles of Mandalore correctly, they were currently in mid-spring, which meant they had plenty of time to work on constructing more permanent dwellings before the cold months came. The bigger concern was how they would do so without the protective domes that once enclosed the cities and maintained an environmental homeostasis. Relocation to another planet within the system until then was beginning to look more like a real possibility, especially since there was no agricultural infrastructure left and communication to and from the surface was still frustratingly blocked. Both were matters that he would need to assign someone to look into while he was away.

His mind began to spin as he considered the possibilities of who would be most suited to each task, and before he knew it he reached the cave that led down to the forge. Only three days ago the scouting party had stood on this very spot, unaware of the danger hidden below and the death that would claim some of their number. His hunter's instinct blazed to life as he stepped into the blackness of the cavern, switching on the light mounted on the side of his buy'ce and drawing his blaster. The beam probed the darkness in front of him, and silence pressed in, only broken by the sound of his breathing and the crunch of gravel under his boots.

Solus

T'ad

Ehn

Cuir…

Counting silently in his head helped keep his heart at a steady pace and his ears and eyes tuned to his surroundings. The dull glow of early morning light muted by meters of thick rock loomed in front of him, and a moment later he stood on the edge of a familiar precipice. The whole area had been cleared of Imperials- both dead and alive- making the strategic vantage point of the narrow ledge skirting the drop-off unnecessary. Igniting his jetpack he stepped unhesitating off the edge and descended in a controlled fall that lasted only a few seconds. With solid ground once again under his feet he struck out along the ruined stone path that wound through the underground passages until it ended at the forge close to a mile away. Piles of debris from above had fallen through various cracks and fissures over the years, blocking the way in many spots so that he needed his jetpack to clear them. With no clear view of the sun he had no reference of time, but the chronometer inside his helmet displayed nearly an hour when he reached the forge and finally heard the noise of another living being.

A strange sound, mixed with the commotion of something heavy being moved, met his ears as he approached the huge, arching entrance into the cavernous room that held the main forge. It almost sounded like… singing. Though the words were indistinct between the masking of a vocoder and the clang of metal, the tune was unmistakable: an ancient Mandalorian hymn of aay'han, once sung by warriors after a victorious battle. He never heard their Armorer sing while she worked before- the only sounds that came from the old forges were of armor being crafted and the low murmur of conversation- but hearing it here, now, seemed right, like it belonged in such a special place.

He waited until the last line of the song faded away to enter, striking his vambraces together twice to announce his presence. Torches burned brightly around the perimeter of the space and filled the room with a warm golden glow. The Armorer stepped out from behind a large storage cabinet, which he recognized from her space on Nevarro, and moved unhurriedly to stand in front of him.

"I did not expect to see you here, Din Djarin," she said at length.

"There is an important matter I wish to discuss with you." He forced his arms to remain relaxed at his sides and fought the urge to squirm under her scrutiny- which was absurd; he wasn't a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie box to be brought before her for discipline. When several seconds passed and she made no inquiry of what said matter was, he continued, "I need your help keeping the peace between the tribes and heading some of the recovery efforts while I travel for a few weeks."

His request fell like a bomb in the space between them, and his stomach sank when she went unnaturally still, her shoulders going rigid. Perhaps he should have talked to the others first, then come to her once he had their cooperation secured. Too late now. He waited for her to say something, anything, and when she finally did, only a single word broke the silence: "Why?"

"I need some time- away from all of this- to think and make a decision about the future." His hand came to rest briefly on the Darksaber. "I spent some time on a planet called Sorgan after rescuing Grogu from Nevarro. It's very peaceful there, and it will be good for him to be in a familiar place with good memories while I decide whether to accept this responsibility."

"There is no one else if you refuse."

"There's always someone else. It's just a matter of finding him- or her." The story and symbolism of the blade was too strong for him to just give it to someone else, but he also wasn't naive enough to believe that no one would challenge him for it, especially once the various clans began to return. "Please; I wouldn't ask this of you if it wasn't important."

Her stiff posture eased the slightest amount, and finally her helmet tipped an inch forward. "Very well. I will do what I can to help while you are away."

A relieved breath slipped past his lips. "Thank you. I am in your debt." He nodded a farewell and turned to leave when her voice stopped him cold.

"You never told me why you removed your helmet."

"You never asked," he replied over his shoulder. Curiosity warred with impudence in his gut. It had been seven months since their meeting on Glavis where she had declared him dar'manda and sent him on his quest to Mandalore; why did it matter to her now?

"I am asking now."

To anyone else it would have seemed childish- even to Din it felt petty- but he refused to turn and face her fully. He didn't regret what he did for Grogu's sake, even if he had never made it to the living waters to redeem himself. All that mattered was that the kid was safe. "It was the only way to save my son. And if I had to do it again, I would." Without awaiting a reply he stalked back into the semi-darkness of the cavern. He was nearly out of earshot of the other Mandalorian, and if not for the audio amplifiers in his helmet he would have missed the softly uttered words that followed him:

"This is the way."