Cara slowed her pace a bit more to match that of her companion. She was thankful they didn't have much farther to go—the sun's rays were beginning to wane and so was Din's strength. She had offered to carry Grogu for him once she noticed his arm trembling, but he politely refused and only tucked the child closer to himself. The incident with the bear had shaken him a little, and she couldn't blame him for wanting to keep his son within his grasp. When you face the risk of losing family, you don't want them to leave your side, she thought.
"The cabin is just beyond this curve," Cara encouraged as she angled her body to embrace the upward climb at the foot of the mountain. "That is, if it's still standing."
"What did your family do with the cabin when you weren't here?" inquired Din, his breathing a bit labored.
"A local caretaker maintained it for us. He and his wife were like family to us," replied the shock trooper as she carefully picked her way through the leaves that now began to litter the ground as the variety of the trees changed to a mixture of deciduous and coniferous.
"If they were like family to you…why have you not been back since?" Din asked delicately. Cara remained quiet to mull over her answer.
"I don't think I was ready," she admitted and swallowed her nerves. "They were an older couple—basically like another set of grandparents. I'd already lost everything. I guess I was maybe scared to come back and find they were gone too, and I didn't want to have to handle that, along with facing all the memories here."
"I understand," nodded Din.
"Probably makes me weak, huh," huffed Cara, but the beskar helmet shook sideways in her peripheral.
"Not at all. It just means you care. And caring requires more strength than not," counseled her friend, wisdom lacing his tone. The pair rounded enough of the curve on the mountain's gentle slope to come upon the Dune family cabin. Cara's breath caught in her throat and her feet froze in a sudden stop. The native logs Dad loved so much. The front porch Mom always enjoyed in the mornings with her caf. The towering windows my brothers always pressed their grinning faces against. It still looked exactly like it had in her memories—memories which now threatened to overwhelm her.
"I'm not so sure I have enough strength…," she breathed out in almost a whisper. She hadn't even realized she'd spoken out loud until she felt Din's steady presence manifest behind her, supporting her.
"You do. But when you think you don't, you can have mine," he assured her calmly. A small murmur of encouragement even sounded from the kid in his arms.
Oh, boy.
Not sure she was ready for this, Cara forced herself to take the first step towards the structure, her eyes still sweeping over it. It was evidently still being cared for after all these years…perhaps another person had stumbled upon it and claimed it? A sudden fear of the inside looking different drove her feet to move faster. There were memories here—her father's hunting jacket, her mother's favorite hiking stick, her brothers' fishing rods—and while she wasn't sure she was prepared to face them, she certainly wasn't ready to lose them either. Taking the front porch's steps two at a time and not looking back to see if Din kept up, she bounded in through the unlocked front door without any announcement and instinctively palmed the lights.
Din feared the worst when Cara suddenly bolted toward the house. Forcing his sore legs to move faster to follow, he wasn't sure if she'd want to be alone for this or not. He decided on halfway and hovered in the front door frame of the large cabin while Cara stepped inside by herself. His helmet slowly swiveled to take in the place. It wasn't just beautiful—it was a work of art. The woodwork was exquisite and clearly made from the local lumber. Ornate designs were chiseled in the high ceiling beams and the staircase's railing—designs Din knew were unique to Alderaan's now deceased culture. A stunning stone fireplace stood dutifully off to the left, clean but cold. Windows taller than Din himself lined the walls, drawing in the last of the sun's rays. The furnishings were simple but incredibly cozy…and were evidently still the same as Din's gaze took note of several old-fashioned, static holopictures that occasionally held a girl that looked too much like Cara to be anyone else. His sights strayed back to the woman slowly circling in the center of the main, open living space. Her sudden burst of panic seemed to melt away in the realization that this haven was still hers and a vulnerable sense of peace settled over her.
"My father actually built this place…he was an architect on Alderaan," divulged Cara as she rounded towards her friend. Din noted her eyes shone with unshed tears but also had her characteristic glimmer of pride. "He actually was responsible for assisting with a lot of the structures in Aldera. But he built this place for my mom."
Din remained quiet and let her reminisce as she continued to wander about the cabin's ground floor. Her gaze slowly swept over items and corners of the room—no doubt replaying countless glimpses of accompanying recollections in her mind. Occasionally as she drifted through the room, she'd reach out her fingers to assure herself that what her eyes were drinking in was real. Knowing Cara was anything but materialistic, the significance of her attachment reverberated in the silence. He watched her hand fondle the curves of the staircase's bottom post. She let her body relax in a slight swinging motion around the newel, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips as she relived a forgotten, childhood habit. She bent slightly to inspect the curtail step and snorted as she rubbed her fingers on a specific groove in the wood.
"This happened when I pushed my younger brother down the stairs, and he cracked his front teeth."
Din ventured into the room and casually walked over to one of the pictures displayed on the small table behind the couch, the older holopic shimmering with its 3-D depth extending just slightly beyond its frame. "Is this him?" Cara rose from her crouched position to join him at the table and look at the picture he was holding. It was a family shot on the front porch steps of the cabin.
"Yep. Levi," she confirmed, her voice suddenly softer as she pointed to a boy around ten years old with short dark hair and an ornery grin. "He was the one to make everyone in the family laugh. Had the biggest heart too. When he loved someone, he'd do anything for them. Was a little bit more of a follower so he stuck pretty close on my heels most of the time. Also, kind of had a knack for trouble, but it was never deliberate…his curiosity just usually got the better of him." Grogu let out an interested coo as he leaned slightly forward in Din's arm to see better. Tilting the frame closer, Din let Grogu inspect the family photo as well. Cara then pointed to the other young man in the picture—evidently older by about six years or so from Levi, but with rich, dark, wavy hair and very soft, wise eyes. "This was my older brother, Dalen. He was probably the most steady and humble man I ever knew. Always kept an eye out for me, whether I wanted it or not. A little more on the quiet, calmer side which helped ground me sometimes—cooled my temper," Cara smirked as her hand lingered on the picture, her voice thick with emotion. "We were especially close as I felt I could always just be myself with him…could go to him for anything. I did go to him for everything. He was my rock."
"I wish I could have met them," remarked Din as his eyes lingered on all the smiling faces. "I'm sure I would have liked each of them."
"You and Dalen especially would have hit it off, I think. My dad too," smiled Cara fondly. "I think my mom and Levi probably would have been all over Grogu." She released a choked laugh when Grogu responded with an intrigued and proud chirp.
"You had longer hair then." Din couldn't help but smile at the image of a young teenage Cara beaming brightly as she had one arm slung over each of her brothers' shoulders, their parents sitting happily behind them on the higher porch step. He noticed Cara had inherited most of her facial structure from her father but her piercing eyes and sideways smirk from her mother. "You look just like your spitfire self."
"Yeah…middle kid all the way," chuckled Cara with a telltale sniff and a rueful shake of her head. A sigh then escaped her lips as she gently took the picture frame from Din's hands and gazed at the long-gone faces. Her next breath was barely a whisper.
"Kriff, I miss them."
A wave of compassion swept over Din as he intimately knew the sorrow. Raising his hand with the intention of touching her shoulder, he suddenly halted in surprise. While they were at ease with each other for injury assessments, Din otherwise never touched her—or anyone (besides his son) if he could help it. Unsure how that would be received (by both of them if he was honest with himself), he settled for verbal comfort instead.
"I know I didn't know them…but I somehow miss them too," he sympathized quietly. He knew he'd said the right thing when Cara finally looked up at him and smiled in gratefulness through watery eyes.
With a closing sniff signaling the end of the moment, she ducked her head once more and shifted the closest bag on her shoulder to zip it open, slipping the picture inside to take back home. "We need to get you out of that beskar," she reminded him, back to business.
"I'll also probably need clothes if there are any left here," confessed Din sheepishly. "I only packed more flight suits as I wasn't really counting on removing the armor."
"Yeah, sure. I'll go looking in the closets while you take everything off. The bear-proof bunker is basically a built-in cellar hidden in the floor back here." Cara led Din and Grogu further into the house near the back to show them the small, empty cellar buried in the ground and sealed with a solid metal lid that was overlayed with the wooden floorboards. The craftsmanship of how well hidden the bunker was spoke highly of Cara's father's talents. "My parents' bedroom is just off here that you can use to change," added Cara with a brief nod toward a nearby closed door. Din noted she couldn't bring herself to touch the door handle before she set his bag down on the floor and disappeared to search for some clothes for him. His eyes trailed her in worried concern until she was out of his sight upstairs. Reaching for his bag, he then entered the room to change.
Removing the armor was…painful. It didn't seem to matter which way he moved, just everything hurt. A convenient, tall mirror hanging on the back of the bedroom door further proved his pain wasn't all in his mind. Din sighed in resignation as he gingerly ran his hand down his bare chest and inspected himself in the mirror. His normal skin tone wasn't even visible—instead a nightmarish collage of various hues of dark purples and maroons painted his chest and abdomen that nearly blended into the waistband of his pants. A very telltale ring of black bruising from where the bear's crown had pounded him repeatedly especially stood out. It was an absolute miracle that he had no broken bones, thanks to the beskar.
"Mmmeh?"
A small query from the bed requesting assistance caused Din to turn from the mirror to address his son who sat struggling with his own beskar. The boy's face turned upward with a pathetic expression of defeat and a plea. "Here, bud, let me help you," offered Din as he awkwardly bent to lean on the edge of the bed and slowly lowered himself to his knees with a hiss. As he began to help Grogu remove his rondel, the child's eyes were captivated by his father's battered front. A mournful coo trilled out of his mouth as he raised a single hand to gently rest on his father's bicep in worry and regret. "I'll be okay, pal. It's not the first time you've seen me sport these colors and it won't be the last," Din comforted his son with a lopsided smile, trying to cheer and assure him. As he carefully assisted Grogu in shrugging out of his chainmail, a little whimper of pain slipped out of the boy's mouth. Din's brow furrowed. Setting the tiny beskar shirt aside, Din inspected his son and found a pattern of bruising on the boy's bare back. Caresadness rose within the father's heart.
Oh, Grogu…why didn't you tell me?
A guilty murmur mumbled out as the child clasped his hands together in front of him, his ears dipped in apology. Didn't think it would help things.
Grogu, I'm your father, Din gently reminded him, a deep softness pooling in his eyes. I want you to tell me these things. Even if I can't do anything to help, I want to hurt alongside with you.
An amused snort elicited from the kid as he pointed again towards Din's chest to indicate he already was. Din ignored the joke and pressed for more.
Does it hurt real bad, ad'ika?
Not too bad, buir. Just a little sore.
How's your head?
Mostly better. And that's the truth.
That's good.
A soft knock at the door interrupted their conversation and Din looked past his son's shoulder toward their visitor. "You can come in, Cara," he called as he pushed himself to stand again, his face pinching in a wince. The door quietly clicked open, and the dropper entered with her arms cradling a pile of clothes. She couldn't help but glance around the room—probably seeing thousands of memories afresh that had previously faded—but her eyes widened when they settled on him.
"Oh, Din…," she couldn't help but cringe in horror.
"It looks worse than it feels."
"Yeah, I doubt that," she scoffed before laying out his options on the bed. "I raided Dalen's closet as you're a similar build to what he was. I hope you like plaid flannel button-ups."
"This will be fine; thank you, Cara," nodded Din as he unfolded a pair of jeans to judge the size.
"I figure if you need anything else we can pick it up in town tomorrow. We need some essentials anyway," Cara shrugged and pointedly tilted her head toward his chest. "Like bacta for instance."
"Not a bad idea," agreed Din as his eyes swept to his son and his own bruises.
"We can lock your beskar in the bunker and then get a good night's sleep. You're welcome to any bedroom in the cabin…the rest are all upstairs, including mine."
"If it's all right with you, I'll take this one as it's on the ground floor," requested Din as he finished sorting through the clothes. Her smirk was caught in his peripheral, and he knew she picked up on his desire to hold a strategically protective position.
"Sure, that's fine with me. But just so you know, there's not a living soul within several miles of here," Cara informed him.
"Just a habit," Din excused easily. "You sure you'll be okay up there?" He knew Cara was smart enough to read between the emotional lines of the question. His friend sucked in a breath through her nostrils, but she gave a forced nod.
"Yeah, I'll be fine," she told him yet unconvincingly. "Good night, Din." And before he was able to follow up with anything more, she retreated out the door for the evening.
An understanding sigh escaped the Mandalorian's mouth as he finished changing into his sleeping clothes and secured his duffle and their beskar in the bunker before slipping back into the bedroom for the night. Little Grogu peered up at him from the center of the large bed and tilted his head in concerned curiosity.
"We have to be patient," explained Din in a soft voice as he turned down the lights and pulled back the blankets for them both. "We both know what it's like to lose everything…we just have to give her time and space. We'll be here when she needs us."
"Patu," agreed Grogu with loving determination and dipped his head in a nod. Both boys, sore and tired, settled into the mattress together under the blanket and fell asleep almost instantly.
"You give Imps a fair, fighting chance at shooting you…that's saying how poorly you dodge," jabbed Cara Dune with an ornery grin before bringing her mug of ale to her lips. The table erupted in playful jeers and cheerful whooping at the dig toward one of the other droppers.
"Oh yeah, Dune? Maybe the only reason I'm having to dodge them is because you can't pick them off fast enough…"
"C'mon, Lug, you know that argument doesn't hold water. Carasynthia's a crack shot…"
"Yeah, man, maybe if you learned how to use your own weapon, you might be able to help out on occasion…"
Another wave of applause and laughter at the expense of a fellow rebel soldier swelled again and only receded upon the arrival of their superior at their table in the middle of the bar.
"Captain! Here to join us?" welcomed Cara brightly and a little drunk, raising her glass in greeting. The broad man maintained his demeanor of no-nonsense which wasn't unusual. However, the unique glint of something likened to compassionate concern in his eyes was.
"Trooper Dune, a word in private." The way his throat bobbed in a hard swallow made Cara sober up real fast—something was wrong. Rising from the table with her mug in hand, she clapped her neighbor's armored shoulder in promised return before following her captain to a secluded, empty side hall.
The conversation was brief—most of the details were unknown at this point—but only one detail mattered. Numbness settled in in less than a second as her soul involuntarily shut down. Her body hardened in defense and defaulted solely to her brain to function at the bare minimum required. She remembered thanking her captain and discreetly slipping out the back without another word.
She walked the stretch of the base's campus until she reached the end of the compound and then still continued on. She didn't recall the sensation of walking, nor when the hard ground beneath her feet changed to gritty sand. When she finally stopped, it was only because she'd reached the rocky shoreline of the planet's rough ocean and could go no further. Perilous waves crashed mercilessly against massive boulders in building succession before her, the remnants of the water spraying high in the air as fragmented tears. They reminded her of the waves on Alderaan.
That used to be on Alderaan.
The raging sorrow within finally released and she added her own roar to the dangerous waves.
"YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO LEAVE ME!"
She then screamed with all of her might until her throat became as raw as her heart, her body throbbing along with the pulse of the ocean before her. The echo of her painful cries drowned in the damning thunder of the tormented, watery crests of the sea as Carasynthia Dune sank to her knees.
Cara woke with a deep gasp for air. A residual tremor of shock from her memory-filled dream rippled through her body and her muscles instinctively clenched. As the truth of her present reality settled in quickly, her body eased from the tension, but the lingering sorrow still weighed heavily. A defeated sigh seeped from her lips as she covered her eyes with her hand. The nightmares were back.
It was then that her senses finally rose to full clarity and detected muffled sounds of shouting from down below and just outside the cabin. Thankful for a much needed distraction, no matter what the kriff was going on, Cara forced herself to roll out of bed and quickly throw on some clothes. The argument grew louder and encouraged her to rush. Throwing a checkered green buttoned-down shirt over her cami, she flew down the stairs in her bare feet, grasping the bottom railing post to rocket her trajectory towards the front door and busted out onto the front porch.
She couldn't stop her speed in time and lightly crashed into the back of Din, who was presently in the middle of a tense conversation with a very old man who stood about thirty feet away and had a primitive rifle trained on the bounty hunter.
"I swear to you, I'm not lying," argued Din, his open hands raised wide in defensive honesty. Once he felt Cara's momentum collide behind him, one arm instinctively circled back around to her in protection (and quite possibly for balance). His motion caught her by surprise, knowing he preferred his space, and she deduced he probably hadn't even realized he'd done it. A droplet of water splashed against her cheek, diverting her attention. The scent of fresh cedarwood soap soothed her senses and his dark hair's waves dripped tiny beads of water down his neck. Cara could feel his body was still slightly damp through his clothes—he must have gotten startled just after leaving the shower.
"You're a tramping squatter, that's what you are! And I'm gonna give ya the whole of three seconds to get your keister off this property…" Cara's heart nearly stopped.
That voice!
"Wait! Wait," pleaded Din again in earnest before Cara side-stepped his arm to round his shoulder. The name of her family's old caretaker flickered instantly in her brain.
"Mr. Fendell?" she called out, half in astonishment and half in plea.
"Two squatters?" exclaimed the elderly local, now suddenly undecided which trespasser to point his rifle at. "And up to who knows what no doubt…well, not in the Dune cabin, no sir, not on my watch…"
"Mr. Fendell, it's me, it's Cara! Cara Dune!" the woman tried again, venturing a hesitant step forward on the porch, her arms raised to calm him. She knew she'd caught his attention as he peered over the long barrel of his gun. She breathed in silence, waiting for her words to sink in. It took a longer minute than she thought was necessary but sure enough the rifle lowered, and a clear wave of emotion washed over the old man's face.
"Lil Cara? Is that really you?" Mr. Fendell's voice tremored in fearful hope, unsure if he was seeing a ghost.
"Yeah, yeah it's me." Cara couldn't help the shaky laugh of a sob that caught in her throat as she smiled wide.
"Well stop dawdling, darling, and get in here," the caretaker almost cried as he shakily bent to deposit his rifle on the ground and opened his arms wide for a hug. The collision of her nightmare's lingering pain and this unexpected reunion suddenly became too much. A thousand memories of the image before her overwhelmed Cara's heart and she didn't need to be asked twice. She lost the battle of composure as she hurried down the steps and eagerly accepted the long overdue embrace. The man's frame was thinner and frailer, but no less loving than it had been all those years ago. Cara's eyes shut tightly as she curved downward in the hug, her own frame towering over his by several inches. She'd not forgotten how he always pleasantly smelled of the woods. For a single moment, Cara imagined she was in her past before anything had gone wrong.
"I always knew you'd come back," Mr. Fendell's higher pitched voice trembled in her ear. Cara smiled brightly again and released the man. "And my how you've grown! You look like you could take on the entire Riverskell mountain range all by yourself!"
"Haha, well I always tended to aim high," shrugged Cara, unable to stop grinning. The caretaker had clearly aged, probably more than he should have in the handful of years that had passed—his hair fully white now and cheeks sporting more wrinkles than not—but the dropper couldn't have been more pleased to see him.
"And who is this with you?" questioned the elderly gentleman, turning his attention to the still dripping Din Djarin who stood silently on the front porch. The caretaker lowered his voice to a not-so-quiet protective whisper. "He's not sharing your bunk, is he?" Cara would have felt the horror of embarrassment had Din's sudden blush and wide eyes not been worth it. She only then noticed that in his haste to rush outside from the shower, he'd foregone buttoning up his shirt.
"Ah, no. Mr. Fendell, this is my friend—we met, ah, when I was in the Alliance," Cara lied with a slight wince. She realized they hadn't come up with a cover story for Din to preserve his anonymity. "We've kept in touch since the war. I, um, wanted to show him my family's cabin."
"Hmph. He looks like he just came from war," mused the older man, pointing in the general direction of Din's battered chest. The blush deepened in the Mandalorian's cheeks as he awkwardly began buttoning his shirt to hide the evidence of the beating he'd taken the previous day. He soon descended the steps to join the conversation.
"Just an accident," he passed off as casually as he could. "It's nice to meet a friend of Cara's. I'm Din." Cara watched him dip his head in greeting and politely extend his hand to shake.
"Likewise. I'm Alden Fendell," the older gentleman replied, the previous animosity gone as he warmly accepted Din's hand. "Known the Dune family for a long, long time. Definitely since this one here was running around in diapers, terrorizing everyone."
"Sounds about right," smirked Din, his eyes meeting Cara's briefly in amusement.
"Meh?" All three adults turned back toward the house to find Grogu standing hesitantly in the doorway in only his nappy. A confused tilt of his head brought both ears in full view.
"What in the name of the Kipperskew hills is that?" wondered the caretaker aloud, his eyes widening in surprise. "I've seen a lot of strange things on this planet in my entire life but nothing that looks close to that."
"This is Grogu, my son," stated Din.
"Your son? No offense, boy, but what does your wife look like?"
Cara literally had to slap her hand over her mouth to smother her laughter. Her mirthful eyes peered over Alden from behind and met Din's slightly exasperated but still patient expression. She had to stifle herself again as he subtly widened his eyes in mild amusement towards her, both of them practically reading each other's thoughts through their gaze.
Really?
Well, what did you expect him to say, bucket head?
You're never gonna let me forget this, are you?
Oh, you got that right…
"He's adopted," Din merely replied with a slight smile which only widened in private affection as he turned his sights back to the little boy hovering shyly by the door frame.
"He's so…green," observed Alden as he squinted in incredulity at the foreign creature.
"Patu." Cara couldn't quite tell from Grogu's tone if he was merely agreeing with the assessment of his skin tone or if he was a little insulted. Regardless, she decided to steer the conversation back to a burning question she'd been eager to ask.
"Mr. Fendell, where's your wife?" The caretaker didn't seem to hear her at first, so she repeated her question and rested her hand on his arm to gain his attention.
"Oh, Miri is in town, getting supplies," replied the caretaker as he continued to stare in curiosity at Grogu on the porch. "In fact, I was just running up here to double check on the place before going back to meet her. I run up here about twice a week, ya know. Always kept up this place for your dad. Wanted to keep it ready for you when you came back." Din remained quiet while Cara mirrored the caretaker's smile in thankfulness.
"You've done a fine job as always," she assured him warmly. A sudden idea popped into the old man's brain and he almost sort of jumped at his own thought.
"Why don't you all come down and have a bite to eat with Miri and me down at the pub for lunch? They've got their elk roast on the menu today," Alden suggested eagerly. Cara nodded.
"We'd love to," she promised. Din also nodded his agreement.
"Terrific! Oh, Miri is going to be so thrilled you're here!" And without another word, the elderly caretaker shouldered his rifle and headed back into the woods toward a parked, rundown landspeeder. Cara watched him go with a fond expression on her face, random memories with the grandfatherly figure replaying in her memory. She turned back towards the house alongside Din.
"If you think he's a hoot, you're going to love his wife," joked Cara, still unable to stop smiling.
"How did he know you survived Alderaan?" asked Din somewhat out of the blue. The question somehow struck her wrong and she halted on the front steps and turned to face him behind her.
"What?"
"Did something about that whole conversation seem…odd to you?" questioned Din, his forehead furrowed in perplexity. "You said you hadn't contacted him and yet he didn't seem all that surprised to find you alive." She was sure he meant the observation innocently, but she couldn't help the feeling of defensiveness rise within her.
"I'm not sure I get your point. He's a bit quirky—he's always been quirky—but he's an honest man, Din. There's never any reason to suspect him of anything," she replied, a bit harsher than she maybe should have. "He was just really happy to see me. Just as I was thrilled to see him." Din clearly realized he'd struck a nerve and backed down.
"I'm sorry, I guess I just…misread some signals," he amended gently. Cara gave a slight nod in acceptance of his apology and headed back inside the house. She didn't care to delve further into Din's query and wanted to remain in the small semblance of "normal" that she remembered. It was almost helping make the memories in her nightmare disappear…almost.
Grogu sat patiently on the edge of the bed. He and his father were currently in the middle of a game, and Grogu knew that the key to winning was playing dumb and staying still.
"This isn't a game, Grogu. I need you to get in the backpack."
Grogu merely perked his ears to show his father he was listening but cocked his head to show he just…didn't understand.
"Don't even try that. I know you're not stupid," frowned Din as he settled a hand on his hip and held out a hiking backpack in the other. "We can't use your pod and Cara said the walk into town is a few miles. I'm not so keen on letting you roam on your own after yesterday, and I'm still a bit too sore to carry you in my arms the whole way."
Willing to help with that last part, Grogu raised an eager hand in the direction of Din's body. Din's face lit up in triumph and pointed a finger back at his son.
"Aha, see? You understood that part. You just gave yourself away," revealed Din, slipping into a teaching moment.
"Doh?"
"It was a nice try, kid, but if you're ever trying to negotiate in a situation, you have to always be alert and aware from all angles…but we can work on your bargaining skills later. This one is nonnegotiable."
Grogu slumped in a huff at his father's words. He lowered his gaze in defeat and broke his silent act.
Won't see things, buir, in the backpack.
You could have simply told me that. I promise, I'm not going to zip you up in the dark, bud. It's just to…
KNOCK KNOCK!
Din paused his conversation to answer the bedroom door.
"Ready to go?" inquired Cara, all set to make the long trek into town for lunch and supplies.
"Almost," sighed Din. "Trying to convince Grogu to settle into the backpack but he's not too fond of it."
"It is a little big for him," mused Cara, her upper teeth snagging her bottom lip in thought. "Hang on a sec." Crossing the floor, Cara headed towards her parents' closet and opened the door to dig far in the back on a shelf. She groaned a bit as she rifled through things before gasping in victory and emerging once again. An odd-shaped mess of padding, material, and buckles was clenched in her fist. "Here you go! He can be strapped in this. It's what my parents used for us kids when we were infants on our family hikes," she declared, shoving it into Din's hands.
"A…baby carrier?" Skepticism seeped into the man's tone, his big brown eyes shyly inspecting the offering.
"Yeah, you strap it on like this and then he sits in it in front of you," instructed Cara as she took the carrier back and began harnessing it around Din while being mindful of his bruises.
"I don't know, Cara…I look ridiculous."
"Oh hush, more ridiculous than shoving a kid in that side sack you used to wear?"
"Hey now, that was at least functional. And he liked it. Right, bud?" Din inquired with a glance towards his son. All he received in reply was a semi-guilty look with dipped ears. "Sigh, I can't seem to please anyone…"
"Quit moving, Din," muttered Cara as she continued to strap and buckle her friend.
"Putting on my beskar is faster and easier than this…"
"Shut up. Okay, there…done. And I'm hungry so let's get a move on," declared Cara as she bent to gather Grogu and slipped him easily into the cloth carrier against Din's chest. Grogu cooed in delight at the much more desirable option and snuggled into the soft padding. He especially liked that he could feel his father breathing and was nestled close enough to feel his comforting warmth—not to mention he could see everything and swing his little feet! The child purred in happiness.
Like this much better, buir!
Well…good. I'm glad you approve, pal.
"Here, you'll need this too, just in case." Cara settled a more primitive handgun into Din's hand. "Never go out into the woods without having something. Has to be bullets—lasers will only singe fur and tick off tempers."
"You don't have to tell me twice," stated Din, his eyes widening briefly, and he securely slipped the gun into his waistband at his back.
After Cara grabbed a smaller pack to haul supplies back with them as well as her crossbow, the trio set off for the few miles into town. Grogu thoroughly enjoyed his new perspective as they hiked through the forest. Granted, he figured it wasn't too much different from whenever his dad held him, but he enjoyed the secure, nestled sensation against Din's flesh. Not that he ever minded the beskar at all, but this was still a rare treat. His head swiveled right and left. Thankfully, he saw no more mean bears. Instead, he watched fluffy black squirrels scamper up and down the massive tree trunks and long, lean dusty hares dart here and there. Somewhere up above in the canopy various birds chirped and sang but it was much too high and hidden for him to see. His upward gaze strayed to the scruff of his dad's beard under his chin when he heard and felt his father's deep timbre rumble in his chest.
"What other sorts of bigger animals live out here?" Din inquired as he and Cara carefully picked their way through the leaf covered terrain down the mountain.
"You mean that would require weapon protection?" guessed Cara, reading her friend's mind. "Well, the skuller bears are the most dangerous, but you almost never see them unless they're searching for food or a mate. Second would be the shimmer wolves…"
"Shimmer wolves? What are they like?" asked Din, glancing up from the path and towards her.
"Maybe we'll get lucky, and I can show you tonight," she flashed him an ornery grin. Grogu hummed in curiosity at Cara's words when a sudden, large presence in the Force off toward his right distracted him. Squeaking in fear, he cowered lower in the carrier so only his eyes peeped over. Din, sensing his son's swing of mood, halted his steps, and Cara followed suit. The bounty hunter's expert eyes scanned the forest and quickly found what Grogu had noticed. He couldn't help but stumble back a step in surprise, his right hand moving to cradle his son protectively.
"Oh yeah…and the third most dangerous animal here would be the Ruuskin Moose," Cara beamed, a sense of awe in her tone. Sure enough, not but a hundred feet away emerging from the mixture of deciduous and coniferous trees was a light, sandy-colored moose that Grogu was sure was even bigger than five Razor Crests. All three of them had to crane their necks upward to take in the enormous animal as it lazily lumbered through the forest, mindful of the trunks as it carefully angled its wide, dark antlers through the maze. For as large as it was, it stepped rather lightly and elegantly. "They're only dangerous if you anger one, but we're perfectly safe if we just stay still until it passes," assured Cara quietly as the creature crossed their path, oblivious to their existence.
"Everything here seems to grow bigger," observed Din, also captivated by the moose's presence.
Grogu slowly straightened a little more in his carrier, fully enthralled with the majestic animal. A single little tri-fingered hand eagerly reached out in the direction it was leaving, a call through the Force just on the edge of his fingertips. But his father's much larger hand settled on top of his own, forcing it to lower.
No playing with big creatures today, bud.
A hum of slight disappointment emitted from the child, but he watched the reverent and content king of the forest lumber on to go about his day. Once the clearing was safe, the trio continued their downward trek into the valley towards the tiny town below.
The village consisted of a few sporadically placed buildings and houses…absolutely nothing flashy or modern by the rest of the galaxy's standards. Most everything built there appeared to have come from what organically could be found on the planet. There were no roads, only dirt paths. It had a rougher sort of charm, one earned by hard work and the desire to survive in the rugged terrain. Grogu noticed as Cara led them through the town (which pretty much only had the main single path down the center) that the eyes of those going about their days always seemed to stray towards them and held their gaze without thought of it even being rude. Grogu could feel his father's body tense at all the raw attention—not having the security of the beskar left him very exposed. But a relatively calm thought floated toward him.
They don't get many visitors. Don't worry, ad'ika, they're probably more scared of us.
Grogu half-wondered if his father was actually saying that for his own benefit. The child patted the protective hand that had encircled him once again to extend comfort just in case.
"This is the pub," commented Cara, not paying the stares any mind as she strayed off the path to a very old building that had more moss growing on the outside wood than even some of the tree trunks in the forest itself. A few men sat smoking pipes with some kind of weed on the front porch, their eyes silently scrutinizing the newcomers as they entered the establishment.
There wasn't much to look at. The few bars Grogu had seen while travelling with Din all looked luxurious compared to this—even the one on Sorgan—but it seemed clean and functional. A little dark maybe. The ceilings were fairly low, which seemed rather ironic since most of the patrons were on the taller side, hovering around six feet. The bar itself stretched the entire length of the spacious room and clearly was made from the sturdy wood of the forest. The few stuffed heads of various species of some kind of elk hanging on the walls at least were a little different. Cara's voice sounded above Grogu as she leaned a bit closer towards Din and whispered, "It's not a looker of a joint, but the food is incredible." His father nodded once and remained silent.
While the grown-ups scanned the room for the caretaker, Grogu explored the room through the Force. Most of the individuals in the bar, all keeping to themselves and their tables' conversations, were men—all of them human like his father. They all seemed to exude a sharp sense of independence and strength. Some projected a steady meekness while others a more vibrant intensity, but the Force seemed to sing with a deep unity amongst them. The infant could sense their bonds, built upon the need for survival, thrumming with stability and loyalty. It reminded him a good deal of what he felt when he and his father were among the other Mandalorians. It made him feel safer than he had been in the street.
But the Force soured when it came to the far corner of the bar where a group of men sat at a few tables. They weren't loud or causing trouble and quite frankly blended seamlessly in with the rest of the atmosphere at first glance. But a warning whispered out from the wisdom of the Force to the child. The energy seemed thicker, darker, and more mysterious—like a black hole—particularly around one man who looked very different from the rest. Instead of the more reddish and fair-skinned tones, this man had tanner skin and darker hair and eyes. His facial features differed as well—more balanced and smooth rather than the pronounced noses and bushy eyebrows of the others. Even his composure didn't fit with the rest. While the man on his left with fiery hair seemed to pulse with a wild sense of passion and an untamable energy—perhaps the more extreme of the men in the room—this man instead appeared calmer and more collected…more intelligent.
More dangerous.
And despite being far across the entire room, the man didn't fail to quietly take notice of their entrance. His dark eyes pierced all the way from the distant corner with a stare that made Grogu wish he was back out in the street.
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