As Din stepped into Marathel's home, he took the opportunity to examine the structure while her back was turned. It wasn't so much a house as it was a raised platform with an open framework of posts and long slim beams supporting a flat roof. The roof was heavily thatched with layers of braided leaves and flat grasses. One corner was supported by a large tree, which had branches that reached under the roof. Under this tree was a tall wooden upright frame that was heavily laced with string and fiber – some kind of loom, he supposed. There was a long table with benches. Opposite the loom was a sleeping pad that was partially surrounded by panels of hanging fabric. Another corner of the structure was built out over a stream that partially flowed underneath the platform, and there was a simple pulley system for Marathel to collect water. The back of the structure was dominated by a large clay box that was constructed around a fire, which contained a large metal grate that held cooking pots. On either side of the fireplace were long counters with shelves, tightly packed with a variety of baskets. Din's eyes grazed along the top of the counter, littered with open jars and small clay pots, and there, next to the dry sink, lay a large round loaf of crusty bread.

Bread. Osik, bread. Bread was hard to come by when criss-crossing the galaxy, eating travel rations on the run. Bread that he had managed to get a hold of was hard and dry or too mealy to enjoy. never had he had bread right out of an oven, and proper bread was so rare to him that he could count on one hand how many times he had eaten any. Food at the covert was institutional and practical. Food was for strength, for energy. Since becoming an adult, Din had discovered that that was not always precisely so. His helmet only allowed the slightest of aromas to get through, but the hints of herbs that he could get were tantalizing.

Marathel had dished up a bowl of the stew that stood on the hob, and she mashed the contents into a puree with a spoon. She then picked up the loaf of bread, tore off a hunk, exposing the fluffy center that made Din's mouth water. She spread a soft cheese on the bread, deftly tore it into child-sized chunks, and placed the food on the table. "Sit," she said. Din sat. Grogu immediately reached for the bowl, but Din moved it into a better position, set Grogu on his thigh, and began spoon-feeding the stew into the ungrateful maw. Marathel had her back turned again, putting herbs into mugs and filling the mugs with hot water from the reservoir, and Din briefly wondered if he'd have enough time to slip a bit of bread under his helmet before she turned around again. Before he could, though, Marathel sat opposite him, sliding a steaming mug over to him. "Does he approve?"

"He does."

"Good." She sipped her tea. "He is a charming creature."

"He does have that effect on people." Din was about to let Grogu sip from the mug of tea when Marathel said, "Oh no, the tea is for you. The tea is … a …. digestive? Good for stomachs. Too strong for little ones, unless they are ill."

Din slid the mug out of reach. "Grogu needs no help in that department."

Marathel chuckled. "I understand. I helped with the little ones at the Hold."

"The Hold?"

She gestured vaguely. "Up there, where the others are."

"Why is it that you're down here, all alone?"

Marathel hid her face for a moment in her mug. "The Dahlrhddwhyrs – the Dahls – of course."

"Why are they so important?"

She shrugged and kept her eyes on the tabletop. "I don't know. Status, maybe? The Ancient Ones had use for them, but I don't know what that was. There are things known in the Oldtalk, but girls don't learn those things. The men and the boys who have changed learn that in the Round Building. The girls only learn what Oldtalk and Newtalk is needed from the Diwhyns."

"Diwhyns?"

"The … older women. The mothers. I'm sorry, you speak Newtalk …I will try to keep up." Marathel took another long sip of her tea. "But you were asking about the Dahls. The Elders want them, but you can't just take a Dahl. You have to care for them while still in the egg. When they hatch, you have to be there … that way …" She scowled, looking for the right words. "They become yours, you become theirs?"

"They bond?"

"Yes! Bond. That is the word. I take them the eggs each season, but they will not bond with The Elders." Marathel slipped her hands into her sleeves and swallowed while she stared at the tabletop. She finally lifted her eyes to look at Din's helmet. It was then that she noticed that he was not looking at her but seemed to be focused on something just behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and her eyes fell on the bread. "You are hungry, then?"

"No. I will eat later."

"If you want bread, you may have bread. Or stew. I have plenty." She got up and pulled another bowl from the shelf.

"I cannot."

"You cannot?"

"I may not eat before others."

Marathel's brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

"I may not remove my helmet before any other living thing."

She contemplated this for a moment. "You require … privacy, then?" Din did not answer. "This is easily fixed." She pulled out another one of her ubiquitous baskets and removed a stack of folded dark-colored fabric.

Din stood. "I do not wish you any trouble."

"It is no trouble. You are hungry but may not eat before me. I understand. Let me fix something. In the meantime, I expect Grogu will need the necessary?"

"The necessary?"

"Babies fill, babies must empty, yes?" Marathel pointed towards the corner just past her sleeping pad. "Hop down there and go about ten meters around that rock outcrop. Look to your left, you will find it. Go on, then."

Grogu was indeed squirming, so Din followed her directions and found a latrine just as she said. It was little more than a wooden box with a hole in it, but the rock outcrop gave some privacy, along with a weatherproof curtain that was tied to an adjacent tree. There was even a covered bucket of clean cloths. All the comforts of home. Din took care of Grogu, took a constitutional himself, and then headed back to Marathels' hut. On the way, he washed his hands and Grogu's in the cold stream that flowed under the platform. Upon climbing back up into her home, he saw that Marathel had constructed a fabric cubicle opposite her sleeping pad. The fabric seemed opaque enough to serve the purpose. Marathel was standing on her loom stool, stretched tall to clip the panel at the top, when she overreached and began to lose her balance. Din quickly crossed the platform and put a hand on her waist to balance her, but Marathel yelped with surprise and overcorrected, causing Din to wrap his arm around her waist to keep her from falling. She looked down at him with wide eyes, eyes that Din finally saw were the same liquid silver color as her hair, framed by pale lashes. Marathel jumped down and smoothed her tunic where he had touched her. Gesturing to the curtained area, she said, "This will work?"

Din nodded. "Yes. It will suffice."

"Good. Wash your hands, I will fix you a plate."

Din again followed her directions; it seemed that she would brook no quarter if he protested that he ate with his gloves on. He turned his shoulders away from her to remove his gloves, and he began to pour out warm water from the reservoir when she slid an open jar towards him. "Soap," she said simply while she filled a larger bowl with the stew and slathered an enormous hunk of bread with the soft cheese. She placed the food on the stool and carried it into the fabric cubicle. Din quickly washed both his hands and Grogu's for good measure. Marathel turned to him and said, "Please eat. If it pleases you, I could take Grogu out with me. We will leave you alone, but we will stay in the yard, so you can see us. He could help me gather."

"That is fine."

Grogu was already reaching for her, so she plucked him out of Din's arms with a smile and settled him on her hip with practiced ease. She grabbed a large woven bag and walked down the steps of the platform. "Come Grogu, you are a strapping lad! Let's see what we can find."

Din entered the curtained space. The fabric seemed opaque enough, but he could still see both Marathel and Grogu in the sunlit yard. He picked up the food and sat on the stool. He lifted the helmet from his head, closing his eyes, breathing in the clean air of this planet. All at once he was pleasantly assaulted with smells: the aroma of the meat stew, the cleanliness of the fabric panels, the herbs in the cheese. Taking a bit of the stew, the meat melted in his mouth, the vegetables were flavorful. Din had intended to eat all the stew before biting into the bread, but he couldn't wait anymore. His teeth bit through the crunchy, flaky crust into the soft center that had the perfect texture of porgsdown, and the sharpness of the cheese and the headiness of the herbs made him wonder what in blue fuck he had been eating his entire life if he had to travel beyond the edge of nowhere and meet possibly the strangest person in his life in order to find this, and as he chewed all these marvelous things together he believed that he would gladly face off against a Krayt Dragon armed with nothing but his middle finger if he could be eating this bread while he did so. He opened his eyes, breathing deeply though his nose, and the wind brought a fragrance that was sea salt and the wildflowers that blossomed in this woman's yard. She kept her back to him – as she promised – as she knelt with Grogu in front of a bunch of berry bushes, showing him what to pick. He happily started pulling berries off for her and placing them carefully in her sack. He ate a few, of course, but spit them out. Din heard her laugh as she said, "Yes, dream berries taste bad to children, which is a good thing. Show me how many you can pick!" Grogu did pick for a while, but then he was distracted by a flying insect, which he chased around the yard. Marathel continued with her picking but kept Grogu in her sights at all times. As Grogu contemplated some sort of crawly critter on the ground, she came over and they both poked at it for a while until it rolled up and rolled away. Laughing, they began to play some sort of chasing game, while Din ate the best bread he had ever tasted, and – though he would never admit it — quietly laughed too as he watched the tall woman and the tiny green creature gambol about the yard.

The shadows in the yard were beginning to deepen by the time Din actually finished his meal. He had chewed each morsel of bread until they were liquified, and he had even picked up crumbs from the floor and ate them too, before he would admit that he was actually finished eating. By this time the running game had ended between Marathel and Grogu, and they sat on the steps with a bowl between them. Marathel was snapping beans into pieces and tossing them into the bowl; Grogu snapped the beans with much less skill and was preferring to chew on the pieces instead of putting them in the bowl. "Stop it, Grogu," said Marathel, with a mock-stern look on her face. Noticing that Din had moved outside the cubicle, she smiled and asked, "All done?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"It is no bother." She stood and collected the bowl and plate from him, moving back to the kitchen to place them in the dry sink. Din moved off the steps and began to strap the jet pack back onto his back. Marathel came forward to the top of the steps, directly above him. "Are you leaving?"

"Yes. We are thankful for your hospitality."

Marathel looked dismayed. "But …. why leave?"

Din clicked the strap that held his blaster. "We are here for a bounty, and it would appear … we are not here at the right time. The bounty calls for you to deliver eggs. I take it there are no eggs at the moment?"

Marathel nodded, her eyes downcast. She slid her hands back into her sleeves. "It is not quite the season. But it is soon."

"How long?"

Marathel's hands were so deep into her sleeves that they were almost rubbing her shoulders. Biting her lip, she walked back to her loom and pulled out a long chain of yarn through which she had woven short lengths of colored yarn in a complicated pattern. She counted out sections of patterns, and then looked out over the landscape for a long while. Her mouth moved silently for a moment, and then she moved back to the yard, looking into the sky. The moon was rising. she contemplated the moon. Finally she moved closer to Din, with her eyes still downcast. Her hands went back into her sleeves – some sort of nervous gesture, he thought – and she finally said, "There will be eggs in four or five days. You will not have long to wait, Bounty Hunter."

Din nodded. "Four or five days."

Marathel shrugged. "Perhaps a bit more, perhaps a bit less."

Din went back to replacing his vambraces. "Come, Grogu, we will return to the ship."

Marathel quickly turned away to grab the bowl off the step. "Or you could stay here."

Din looked up. "Here?"

Still back-to, Marathel gestured to the curtains she had hung. "You will have privacy. You will have meals. Would that not …. be all right?"

Din tilted his head and considered her spine. She obviously was not a flight risk, which was why he contemplated just staying on the ship for the next few days. It would cost him too much in fuel to leave and come back. He was concerned about trying to take the bounty without contacting this Bishop person, whoever he was, but Din was also concerned that The Bishop and the Hold would continue to be closed off to him. This was all a mystery, a puzzle, an enigma …. an enigma wrapped in a mystery who kept her hands covered and her head down and her back to him while she held a bowl of beans. Din looked down to see Grogu wrap his arms around her ankle and look back at him with his huge eyes, pleading. Din took a breath and softly muttered, "Haar'chak." Louder, he said, "If we will not be trouble, we will stay."

Marathel turned, Grogu still wrapped around her ankle, with a look that was somehow both relief and dread. "There is no trouble." She tried to move back to the kitchen, but Grogu hampered her. She looked down at her ankle and chuckled. "I appear to have grown a Grogu. Let go, child, let's get you and your father settled." She pulled out yet another basket and unfurled another sleeping pad and collected blankets. she then lightly kicked the empty basket towards Din. "For your weapons. You may keep them in there. You may not wear them in my house. But you may keep the basket where you will sleep." Marathel then set up the sleeping pad with blankets with her usual efficiency. Din removed his weapons again, placing them in the large basket, wondering what in Dha'tra he was getting himself into. She crossed the room and pulled the curtains around her sleeping pad so they were also closed. She turned back to din. "My space, your space, yes? Privacy for both." Din nodded. She clasped her hands together. "Very good. Now I will make us more tea, we will sit, and I will tell Grogu the story of Luad Dycwnigen."

Within minutes, Din found himself sitting on Marathel's front steps, a mug of tea at his hip. She knew he obviously wasn't going to drink any in front of her, which was why she had graciously placed a saucer on top of the mug to keep it warm. Meanwhile, she was pointing at the moon, which now had fully risen, telling Grogu how the Luad Dycwingen had left the ground to live in the sky, where the Dahlrhddwhyrs could not catch him. Unfortunately, he had to live on the moon upside down because he had jumped too far. Din gazed at the moon as well, and asked, "What am I supposed to be seeing?"

"His shape. it's that long, dark section there."

"It would help if I knew what a Luad Dycwingen was."

Marathel's brow furrowed. "He was a small, furry animal. Long strong legs, fluffy tail. Long ears that stand up and are almost transparent."

"That sounds like a rabbit."

Marathel shrugged. "Could be."

Din considered the moon again. "I guess. If I squint."

Marathel chuckled. "If your rabbits are the same as my dycwingens, they are good eating as well." At this point, Grogu yawned hugely. "Ah yes, the wings of sleep are finally wrapping around the little one." She pushed herself up and picked up her empty mug. Din stood as well. Marathel deftly handed off the child to Din and said, "My bed is calling for me as well. Have a good sleep, Bounty Hunter." She went to the kitchen, quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth, and stepped into her curtained room. Looking over her shoulder, she realized that Din was watching her. She stared for a moment and disappeared behind the fabric.

Din stood where he was for a short while, listening. He finally heard the rustle of her laying down and then all was silence. He sat back down, Grogu nestled in his arms, asleep. Din reached for the mug of tea, slightly lifted his helmet, and sipped. It was still warm. It tasted different than the digestive tea she had given him earlier. It was a lighter flavor with a more calming effect – something sleepier, perhaps. He quietly sighed and stared into the stars, thinking about the oddity of a mark who welcomed him into her home and fed him before he turned her in.

Marathel, meanwhile, had curled onto her side and pressed her clasped fists into her mouth to keep from screaming. The Bishop, The Bishop was going to drag her back into that Hold, all for those damned Dahls and their damned eggs, but it wasn't about them at all, it was about how The Bishop was never denied, NEVER, and now The Bishop had sent this man who wore more metal than she had ever seen in one place, who wore a helmet covering his eyes, to drag her back into that Hold and through the doors of the Round Building, and she was so, so, afraid.

Tears escaped her shut eyes, and she bit her thumb to keep her from breathing too loud because she knew that the metal man could hear her, the metal man was here to end her days away from the pain of the Hold, so she tried to shift her thoughts away from her fear and thought about the child, the little green child who made the metal man soft somehow.

She didn't have the words, she was dumb, she knew what was coming in the next few days and she knew she couldn't escape it, but there was always a kernel of a dream in the deepest part of her soul, and she let the sweetness of the little green child be part of that dream.