Firelight

As it turned out, with the right motivation, Gor Koresh did have information. It nearly cost Din his life, but what else was new. The problem was that the information was flimsy at best. There was supposed to be a Mandalorian on Tatooine, but Din had never seen another one there before. Still, for the first time since leaving Nevarro, they had a lead.

The problem was that he couldn't find Mos Pelgo's location, but he knew someone who might point him in the right direction. He landed the Razor Crest in Hangar 3-5.

Before he exited the ship, he reached for the satchel again, instead of utilizing the pram. His reasoning was Tatooine itself, with this area being especially crime-ridden. While they were here, for however long he wanted to scout around, he much preferred the Child to be as close as possible. That said, this hangar was safe enough. Aside from the mechanic, the only other beings around were the pit droids.

Din stepped down the ramp and, upon seeing Peli, he angled the satchel towards her.

A look of sheer relief appeared on her face when she saw who was inside it. "Oh-ho! Thank the Force," she exclaimed. "This little thing has had me worried sick. Come here, you little womp rat." She started to gently take the Child out of the satchel, who was muttering excitedly under his breath upon seeing her again.

After fussing over the Child, and scolding some of her errant droids, her and Din talked business as to why he was here. Din told her what his destination was, and Peli informed him that Mos Pelgo was pretty much uncharted territory. It was a question as to whether something was actually there. Unable to give anything exact, she supplied him with a vague location.

Din stared at the empty space on the map. It was approximately two day's travel through the desert. He wasn't exactly looking forward to that. But even though there were no guarantees that there'd be any Mandalorians there, where else was he going to look? At least Peli still had a speeder bike, from the Calican incident. Which meant that he had transportation while the Razor Crest got a once-over.

Well. He almost had transportation. The bike wasn't even hovering, not to mention the loose wires sticking out of it.

Din looked at Peli. "'A little rusty'," he sarcastically quoted her.

She nodded. "Oh, sure. A little rust here, a little rust there. And some rougher stuff 'round the edges." She looked at him, and shrugged. "Y'know, you're lucky you got here in time. I was just about to start gutting it for parts. Give me an hour tops and she'll be good to go. No big deal."

Din nodded once, and turned towards the Razor Crest.

"But first," Peli said, holding up a finger, making him stop. She looked down at the Child, who was still in her arms. "When was the last time this little guy's eaten?"

He almost gave a long-suffering sigh. "He eats multiple meals a day." Sometimes more, if the Child managed to somehow get ahold of extra helpings. Or if Din caved. Either or, he had made it a policy from the very beginning that the Child would never starve, not even a little.

Peli scrutinized Din. After a moment, she clacked her tongue. "I'm feeding him. And then I'll work on the bike."

This time, he did sigh. "Fine. But I want us to leave a few hours before the suns set."

She dismissively waved her hand. "Plenty of time."

Din walked away, shaking his head. As he was approaching his ship, some pit droids skittered by, with heaps of tools and parts in their scrawny arms. They swiftly weaved between Din's ankles to avoid getting stepped on. A flash of annoyance coursed through him, and maybe some latent anxiety, but he quickly stamped it down. These droids were harmless.

"Don't trip the customer," Peli barked at them as she walked past Din towards her office. She glanced back at him. "We'll negotiate price later."

"Price?"

"Inspecting and storing your ship, rental for the bike…" She paused to heft the Child higher in her arms. "…and a nominal babysitting fee."

Din exhaled. The Razor Crest fee was obvious, but everything else...? Still, he didn't fight her on any of it. This was only the second time visiting Peli Motto, and yet he knew he should've expected nothing less.

He walked up the ramp and entered the hull of his ship. He needed to start gathering supplies for their journey. But first, he should clean some of his weapons. It seemed like he currently had enough time to do some thorough detailing on them. Just so that it wouldn't get oily, he removed the empty satchel and set it aside, for the time being.

If asked, the Child truly didn't know the precise moment the man became his father.

Perhaps it was when the pram was fixed, or when they escaped Nevarro the first time, or when he was allowed to keep the shiny silver ball. Or maybe it happened as far back as the settlement on Arvala-7, all those months ago, when they had first found each other.

So many beings had come and gone from the Child's life, each of them so detached and emotionless. He was happy those days were long since over. A distant memory. Now, he had someone who cared about him. Someone who he trusted completely. Thinking back to the settlement, and the mudhorn, the Child realized that the trust between both of them had been there since the very beginning. After everything that happened, it suddenly seemed so obvious to the Child.

…He had a father now.

The actual term would take some getting used to, given that he'd never had one before. But now he did.

And currently, for some strange reason, his father was walking away, back towards their ship. Without him.

The Child was happy to see Peli. Truly, he was, especially at the mention of food. However, he gripped her arm, trying to look over her shoulder. He could just barely see the Razor Crest, and the flash of beskar disappearing inside it. He babbled anxiously.

Peli patted his back as they entered her office. "Don't worry, kid. He'll be back." She set him on her desk. "And then, he's gonna take you on an adventure." She moved about the office, which also doubled as her break room. She rifled through cupboards and pantries, rambling as she did so. "Which I think he's crazy for doing, but he's a womp rat, too."

The Child gripped the edge of the windowsill, standing on his tiptoes and trying to see into the ship's hull. Though he was still very confused, he listened to Peli. Judging by her tone, and the words he understood, he wasn't being left here like last time. So, he turned to face her, sat down on the desk, and waited.

She eventually rustled up a meal, consisting of salted steak. It was tough to chew, but it was good and filling nonetheless. Beside him, Peli was mulling over blueprints for different speeder bike models. Once he was done eating, he babbled, getting her attention. He pointed at the leftover steak.

She chuckled, but didn't move from the blueprints. "You put away food like a faulty engine guzzles oil," she quipped. "You can have more later."

His ears drooped, and he cooed.

"Oh, don't give me those eyes," she admonished lightly. "You're small, but you're not skin and bones." She pointed towards the Razor Crest. "I tease him, but he's no liar, from what I can tell. If he says he feeds you well, then I believe it."

She put the blueprints away, and picked up the Child. "Maybe that's why you demand food," she continued talking as they walked outside. "You give him those same eyes, and he gives you whatever? Don't tell me that big tough Mando actually spoils you." It wasn't exactly a question, judging by her snicker.

The Child whined loudly. He waved his arms a little, wanting to be put down so as to get back to the ship. Peli didn't seem to notice, and instead was taking him towards the speeder bike. She set him on top of a nearby discarded engine. She started sifting through tools when some of the pit droids approached.

They crouched a little, bobbing their heads and chittering as they greeted the Child. Their way of communicating was interesting. All the beeps and clicks and wild gesticulating made sense to him, most of the time. He looked up at them, burbled, and twitched his ears. A few of the droids nodded energetically, held up the wrenches in their hands, and then pointed to the ship.

It seemed that they'd been given permission to fix up things on the Razor Crest. That was different, given that his father didn't seem to like droids.

"Come on, guys," Peli said, tiredly shooing them away. "More progress, and then a break." She looked down at the Child. "Now don't go far. I don't mind, but I doubt Mando wants you getting underfoot." She ducked beneath the speeder bike, getting to work on whatever she was repairing.

As soon as she did so, the Child jumped down from the engine, bored and a little restless. He understood that she wanted him nearby, and he stayed put. For a little while, at least. He walked around the bike, picking up and observing small ship parts as he went. Peli only glanced at him every so often. She occasionally talked to him, in a one sided-conversation, but that tapered quickly as she became engrossed in her work.

Eventually, after an adequate amount of time had passed, the Child wandered away. His footsteps were silent, but anyone could blame that on the soft sand beneath his feet. Due to his small strides, it took two or three minutes to approach the Razor Crest. He toddled up the ramp. Once inside, he gazed around the cargo area of the hull. The problem was that the boxes obscured his vision.

He called out, a questioning echo.

He caught a whiff of lingering blaster oil. Then, he heard the closing of the weapons locker, followed by calm boots across the floor. Before the Child could go around the boxes, his father appeared, clearly having heard him. He always heard him.

Smiling a little, the Child raised his arms. As he was picked up and placed on top of a storage container, he giggled a little. These days, he wanted to be picked up more and more often, and he was starting to look for those opportunities.

He sat down on the lid, silently observing as his father moved about the hull. He was gathering different supplies, including two waterskins that he filled to the brim.

They were clearly going on some sort of journey. These days, they seemed to be trying to find a few things. One of which were other Mandalorians. The Child understood why that was important to his father, given that they were his people. However, it was the second thing that left the Child perplexed.

He didn't know what a Jedi was, or why that seemed to be the main focus during their recent travels. Was it a person, or a place? The Child looked at his feet, his face scowling with contemplation.

Jedi…

There was something about that word. It was both simplistic and haunting. It was almost familiar. Brutally familiar. He just didn't know why. Was he supposed to know what it meant? He grumbled, and shook his head.

Why could he never remember certain things?

Just as Din was putting his weapons back together, a coo echoed, breaking through the peaceful silence of the hull.

He found the Child standing in the side entrance, gazing everywhere, and no doubt looking for him. It seemed that the boxes were in his way, blocking his field of vision, so Din picked him up and set him on top of a lid to give him a better vantage point.

With the Child off the floor, and with his weapons taken care of, Din moved around the hull, gathering any provisions that would fit in the saddlebags of the bike. Doing all of this should've taken moments, as opposed to several minutes. But he was distracted. For some reason, the Child was eerily quiet.

There was a time where this was normal, way back when everything about the Child was silent and subdued. These days, he was far more talkative and lively. Din was glad that he was acting like a normal kid, that he felt safe enough to do so. But it was moments like these where Din was reminded of those days, where he had to actually look around for the Child in order to keep track of him. At least he was currently sitting on top of a box, where it was easy to keep an eye on him. But Din often wondered what was going through his mind in these moments, to cause such quiet contemplation.

Abruptly, there was a babble, one that almost sounded frustrated. Din looked up, putting things on hold as he put all his focus on the Child. He was staring at his feet, with a scowl on his face. When he realized that Din was analyzing him, his ears perked, and his coo suddenly sounded completely normal.

Whatever that was, at least the Child didn't dwell on it for too long. In that regard, he had always been resilient. Whether it was due to how easily distracted children were in general, he had a habit of moving on easily. Din exhaled through his nose. He was unsure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, and whether he was supposed to do anything in those moments. Still, he made a mental note of it, just as he made mental notes on everything else regarding the Child.

Now, with the supplies gathered and the Child seeming to be alright, Din could start sorting through everything. Unfortunately, he couldn't take all of the supplies with him. The saddlebags were small, so he needed to prioritize. Just as he was wondering how the work on the speeder bike was coming along, he heard tools clattering from somewhere outside, followed by panicked expletives.

Knowing what all the fuss was about, Din raised his voice a little and said, "He's in here."

Frantic boots jogged up the ramp, until Peli was inside the hull. When her eyes landed on the Child, she exhaled sharply.

"Well, that's my heart attack for the day," she said as she rested a hand against the threshold of the side entrance. "Sorry, Mando. I didn't expect him to wander off like that."

Din shrugged, not the least bit surprised. "He does that sometimes. Not your fault."

"Well, still," she muttered. "I was the one watching him." She then glared at Din. "Last time you two were here, he barely did anything. You coulda warned me a little."

Slightly annoyed, because she was once again making him feel scolded, he didn't respond to her.

She sighed, shook her head at him, and gestured towards the Child. "Well, I'll get him outa here so you can work."

"I'm almost done anyway," he said. "He's fine there."

She nodded once, but seemed concerned. After a moment, she once again pointed to the Child. "You sure you wanna bring him with you? 'Cause I got no problem keeping an eye on him. Especially now that I know what I'm up against. And knowing you, you'll find trouble eventually."

"Trouble tends to find both of us," Din pointed out. "Besides, I'm supposed to look after him. No one else."

Her jaw nearly dropped. "Well, look at that," she remarked dramatically. "A Mandalorian actually following my advice. The wonders around here never cease."

He knew it was a joke, but he wasn't exactly in the mood for it, not for this conversation. "Last time we were here, me and the Child were separated, and a bounty hunter got him. We were all in trouble that day. And maybe that could've been avoided, had he come with me." When Peli didn't respond to that, he continued, his tone a little less clipped. "In any case, if we actually find another Mandalorian, I doubt I'll have much to worry about."

He put his focus back on the supplies.

Eventually, Peli conceded. "If you say so. He's your kid." She moved towards the ramp. "I'm gonna make a few more adjustments to the bike, and then you'll be on your way. You need my help with anything?"

He starting shaking his head. "Actually," he suddenly said. "Can you grab the satchel? It'll save me a few trips to the bike."

After a moment, she snorted. "Sure, but I think someone's way ahead of you."

Din looked up.

The Child now had ahold of the satchel, and was wearing it like a blanket. He placed the material over his eyes, cooing and trilling happily.

Din pointed at it. "We're gonna need that, kid."

The Child hummed, and took it away from his face. Looking at Din, he blinked once and tilted his head at him. Then, with a stubborn babble, he brought the opening of the satchel over his head, until it concealed his entire body. There was a pause, and the satchel shifted. Another babble was heard. This sound was playful, and slightly mischievous. And maybe even a little endearing.

From beneath his helmet, Din felt the corners of his mouth twitch. He exhaled, shook his head slightly, and decided he would allow the Child a few more minutes to play with it.

For some reason, Peli was snickering a little, and she left down the ramp.

It wasn't too much longer when they were ready to set out.

Conveniently, the Child fit in one of the bike's saddlebags. Din took the satchel with him, folding it neatly into the same saddlebag to provide the kid with extra cushion. Given that they couldn't take the pram, having the satchel for back-up was the next best thing. While Din was being honest though, he didn't think this journey would take long at all. It was doubtful that another Mandalorian was anywhere near here.

He pushed forward on the handlebars, only slightly at first as they made their way through the streets of Mos Eisley. But as soon as they reached the edge of the desert, Din flexed his fingers on the grips, and shoved them forward. Within a second, the desert was a blur. With it came a slight burst of adrenaline that Din allowed himself to feel. It was freeing.

Just above the sound of the engine, from one of the saddlebags, Din could hear exhilarated laughter. He glanced back at the Child, whose ears flapped wildly in the wind, and whose face was beaming with pure enjoyment. Indulging him, Din sped up the bike as fast as it could go. He would eventually slow it back down to a more reasonable pace, with the Child's safety in mind.

Just not right this second, though.

A few hours later, much to the Child's dismay, the speeder bike slowed. It was late evening now, the suns having just dipped below the horizon. His father stopped the bike on the crest of a dune. Curiously, the Child watched him as he leaned slightly over the handlebars. He brought out a small scope to see what was up ahead.

In the distance, there was a warm light from a fire.

After a moment, he put the scope away and said, "Looks like Tuskens. Small group. Possibly scouters." He looked back at the Child. "Might be cold tonight. Let's ask if they'll share their fire." From the other saddlebag, he took out one of the waterskins. Holding onto the strap, he yet again grasped the handlebars.

The speeder bike started again, but at a much slower pace, almost respectful. A few minutes later, the campfire was much clearer to see, as were the people who had created it. They instantly got up, brandishing sharp sticks and with defensive postures. From them, the Child could hear loud bellowing.

His father immediately but calmly stopped the bike and dismounted. He mimicked their noises, albeit a little bit raspier than them. He also made hand and arm movements. The Tuskens responded similarly. During the entire exchange, the Child's ears were perked in fascination.

His father made a flickering motion with his fingers, and then tossed the waterskin towards one of the Tuskens. It was expertly caught, and the seal was removed. The Tusken holding it sloshed the water that was within, drawing the attention of the other ones. They looked back at their fire. Putting the seal back in place, they nodded firmly and beckoned with a wave of their hands.

The Child murmured as his father retrieved him from the saddlebag and carried him over to the campfire. He was placed on the soft sand, and his father sat down next to him.

For the rest of the evening, the Child's fascination never ceased. His father held a back and forth conversation with the Tuskens, consisting of loud mutterings and clear gestures using hands and arms. The Tuskens were lively. While his father was a bit more controlled, he contributed nonetheless. They were all quite similar, actually.

They all covered their faces, and were silent in between conversations.

The Child watched everything closely, trying to keep up with their way of talking. It had something to do with traveling, and of the Tusken's recent expedition, but that was all he could decipher.

On the fire, meat was roasting on a spit, and its aroma was enticing. His father made an upwards motion. While the Child knew that he wasn't reaching for the food, he mimicked him, hoping to get his attention. He was successful, as everyone noticed.

One of the Tuskens removed the spit to check the meat. After it cooled, it was passed around from person to person, each taking their share. They tried handing it to his father, but he politely declined, vaguely gesturing to the helmet on his head.

One of the Tuskens tore off a piece of meat, and leaned down. The Child took the offered piece, and happily munched on it. While he ate, he recalled the waterskin, and thought about how distinct that interaction had been.

He saw a charred stick that had fallen out of the fire. It wasn't water, but it was better than nothing. When he was done eating, he picked it up and tried handing it to the Tusken who had given him food.

Once they realized what he was trying to do, from the Tuskens came sharp sounds, and their shoulders shook a little. The Child assumed it translated into laughter, much to his confusion. His father was shaking his head, an amused huff escaping him.

The Tusken took the stick, and the Child felt a sense of accomplishment from that.

Later that night, the fire dimmed. The Tuskens worked in shifts to tend to it, keeping it just warm enough. The Child sat there, watching the flames. Behind him, his father was laying on his back, his cape bunched up behind his head. The Child could hear that his breathing was even, and he assumed he was nearly asleep. The Child should be sleeping, too.

Another bellow was heard. This one was low and soft, and more animalistic.

They were called banthas, the Child had learned. Great lumbering beasts with horns.

He hummed curiously. Wanting to get a closer look, he stood up, and meandered towards them. The closer he got, the bigger they seemed, far bigger than he first realized.

One of the banthas inhaled, woke up, turned its head in the Child's direction, and bellowed.

The Child flinched, his ears pinning back against the sound. Not knowing what that meant or how to react, he trotted back to his father.

It was no surprise that there wasn't a Mandalorian in Mos Pelgo. Instead, Din found a marshal by the name of Cobb Vanth who was wearing beskar armor. The armor was old, faded, and had seen many battles. And it didn't belong to him. It belonged with a Manalorian.

Din demanded that he remove the armor, which led to a negotiation. If Din helped save the town from a krayt dragon, Cobb would willingly relinquish the armor to him. He was not an unreasonable person, so he agreed.

About two nights later, they ran into Tuskens again. They also wanted to kill the dragon. Cobb had his reservations, which was an understatement given their bloody history, but he played along.

They were yet again gathered around a fire. These Tuskens were a larger group, with their homes set up nearby. They also had massiffs, who took notice of the Child. Some of them took too much notice for Din's liking, their beady eyes wide with hunger.

Din sat on an old cargo box. He situated the Child in front of him on the ground, his legs acting like protective barriers. This way, the Child remained in his sights the whole time they talked with the Tuskens, or at least he would know if he tried to wander off. That didn't seem to be a problem, though. The Child shrank back a little against the box.

One of the massiffs was zeroed in on him, licking its lips.

The Child's ears were drooped as he cooed apprehensively. Din heard this. The Tuskens often had well-trained massiffs, and it was doubtful that they would eat the Child. Still, he didn't let his guard down.

Any trouble they had tonight was nearly caused by Cobb. He was a confident leader, and clearly passionate about Mos Pelgo and protecting everyone in it. But he was also very stubborn and impulsive. He was more than ready to butt heads with the Tuskens.

Din wasn't. It wasn't necessary.

Being mindful not to step on the Child, he stood straight up, raised his wrist up in the air, and activated the small flamethrower in his gauntlet. Merely the noise of it made the arguing stop, and he was able to calm everyone down.

He and the Tuskens talked about their routine with the krayt dragon, and how they had to intermittently sacrifice one of their banthas to it. Among other reasons, it was no wonder they wanted to get rid of it so badly. In the morning, the Tuskens would take them to its lair.

In the meantime, it was a good idea to rest up. They were still in front of the fire, watching the flames get smaller and smaller. The Tuskens disappeared inside their tents, taking the massiffs with them, upon Din's request. All but one that is, and it was one that stayed on a rock with a sentry.

Cobb was anxious about everything. "Not sure how I feel about sharing a camp with Sand People," he muttered.

"You wanna get rid of that dragon," Din reminded. "Don't you?"

Reluctantly, he nodded once. "Didn't think I'd have to deal with all this, though."

Din shrugged. "You didn't think you'd be meeting an actual Mandalorian today, yet here we are."

He pointed at Din. "Hey, I gotta say I'm impressed. Who knew you could stop a fight with a flamethrower. I take it you're the peacemaker in your town."

For a few seconds, Din didn't say anything. "Most days, it's actually the opposite. Post Empire, and things are still a mess, but I don't have to tell you that."

He scoffed. "Ain't that the damned truth."

Their conversation was interrupted by a bantha's call. Another responded back, before settling down.

The Child chose that moment to peer around Din's ankle, but his shoulders were hunched. He seemed both intrigued and intimidated by their noises. He glanced around. After finding no danger, he started wandering. He was taking his time, as he cautiously stepped closer to the banthas. Din let him, given that he wasn't going far at all.

At the sentry's side, the massiff saw what was going on and growled. The Child paused to stare anxiously at it, and his shoulders hunched again, but he didn't move or run. He glanced at the bantha herd determinedly.

Din stood up, hand hovering over his blaster, in the event the massiff broke rank. If he had to shoot it, it might not do them any favors with the Tuskens, but he would worry about that once assured of the Child's safety.

Thankfully, the massiff never strayed away, and a swift command from the sentry caused it to obediently sit down.

Seeing his opportunity, the Child swiftly jogged towards the banthas.

Cobb chuckled. "Gutsy little thing, isn't he? Never seen something that small hold its ground."

Din only hummed and took his hand off his blaster, but he didn't sit back down. The Child was now a little farther away than he would've liked, so he walked towards him.

The Child was standing in front of a resting bantha, his ears being ruffled by its breath. He shuffled nervously from foot to foot. When Din stopped beside him, he paused his fidgeting. Din picked him up. Normally his footsteps were naturally stealthy, but he deliberately kept them a little loud, so he wouldn't startle the herd as he walked to the bantha's flank.

He patted its shaggy hair. In his arms, he felt the Child relax. "We'll be riding one of these in the morning," he explained. "We'll leave the speeder bike here."

The Child reached out towards the bantha to touch it. Even as it huffed loudly, the Child didn't even so much as flinch.

Eventually, Din brought them back to the campfire. He sat down on a larger cargo box, so that the Child could sit next to him as opposed to being on the ground.

"You sure he should come with us tomorrow," Cobb asked. "'Cause he doesn't have to, just in case things go sideways. I can take him back to town, and then I'll be back here at first light. We got a doctor who'd think nothing of looking after him."

Din shook his head. "Like I said, he's seen worse."

He shrugged. "Up to you. He's your kid."

In the last few days, he was the second person to have said that. Din didn't respond. He stared at the flames in front of him.

The fading firelight reflected off of the mudhorn signet.