Title: Ancient Records
Author: Novemberries
Characters: The Mandalorian, Baby Yoda, OC
Genre: Family/Angst/Romance
Word Count: 5980
Raiting: T (subject to change?)
Disclaimer: Star Wars belong to George Lucas. I mean, to Disney. I'm only borrowing Mando and Baby Yoda to give them a cosy time.
Completed on: 13JAN2020
Published on: 14JAN2020
Chapter Last Revised on: 14JAN2020

A/N: Hello, guys! First of all, I deeply apologise for making you wait this long. I really hoped to deliver you this chapter earlier, but stuff and my work have been so demanding that I didn't have much time and if I had any, I only had the strength to sleep. But here it is, chapter a lot longer than usual! I hope you'll enjoy it and I'm really thankful for your patience and for sticking with me!

Second things is, when I posted this, I really had no idea it will be liked by so many. You might have realised by now, but I'm not a native English user, and even though I read my writing over 20 times over (I said to one of you 5-6, but then I realised it's mooore) and research the tiniest grammar and vocab that make me hesitate, mistakes are bound to appear. I apologise for them, and if there's something glaringly stupid, don't hesitate to point me that, I will gladly correct this. Likewise, constructive criticism is also welcome, I'm far from perfect, but I want my writing to be better and better, so that you can enjoy it more.

Your comments keep me going - it's because of them I'm pushing myself to write at this pace, so that you can have more frequent updates - but I'm thankful from the bottom of my heart for all of the favourites and follows too. Their amount is astounding to me! I'm truly humbled. Thank you, my very dear Readers, I'm happy you are taking this ride with me. Now, on with the story!

Siri stood tense, cold tremor shaking her body from the core as the woman held her with her unrelenting gaze. Whoever she was, she could tell instantly the imperial past threaded into Siri's clothes. She felt very alone right now, on this planet far from any route, far from anyone she could have called family or friends, with only people merely accepting her presence – or point blank hostile to her.

"We're friends," said the Mandalorian, taking a step towards the woman.

She in turn shifted her eyes to him and then looked briefly at the bundle in Siri's arms. "Not mine." She was now targeting Mando.

"A man by the name of Jardalt. He said we could stop here. To lay low for a while."

Upon hearing the name the woman seemed to soften her stance, but still didn't make any inviting gestures.

Jardalt. With absolute certainty Siri could admit to not having heard of that name. She hoped though that the formidable looking woman here would recognise it and let them at least warm themselves somewhere inside.

"Who are you?"

The Mandalorian looked to Siri and she knew what to do. She opened the blanket that the child was wrapped in, so that the woman could glimpse what was in the bundle.

"The Empire wants it," said Mando.

There was a tense silence broken only by the snow blowing across them, and then the woman turned back without a word, starting a trek towards the settlement. Siri looked to Mando – he nodded briefly and they followed the warrior's steps.

She noticed the blanket had shifted, so she tucked it more securely around the child with her stiffed hands. This place was madness. She was freezing like never before in her life, not even that flash shipment to Hoth where she had to wait one hour until the door to the base were opened had mauled her this way. One had to take into consideration that she had been equipped then with a fully operational uniform. But still.

It was one of the very few occasions when she had actually came into contact with the rebels. And not just any rebels. It was all a flash, really, and only after glimpsing the famed Han Solo and his inseparable Wookie did Siri realise that she had been sent with this last minute request into the heart of the Rebel Alliance. As an inside source working and living in the inner security circles of the Empire, she didn't want to host within her sensitive intel. When in the imperial structures, she avoided even thinking of it, because, a superstition or a real thing, she was wary of someone hearing her thoughts. She remembered that when she was very little, a relative had taught her this game. Whatever it was, a real memory, a real thing, or just something used as a good luck charm to grant her balance and calmness, it had worked. She had continued serving the Alliance with her skills as a spy until her ship had crashed.

Right now, Siri felt as if her thoughts were reaching sub-zero temperature too, solidifying motionless, and she was unable to joggle them and make them useful. She was cold and almost delirious, but this was not Hoth, so she could afford herself this slip. There was someone beside her who held the safety of the baby as a highest priority, and she was sure that if she failed, that someone would make sure the child was warm and safe. A shared responsibility. Half-autopilot.

Hold to the baby. Put a step and then another. Follow Mando and his billowing cape.

When they had entered the settlement area, the dusk was quickly turning into an almost impenetrable darkness and there was no one outside. The only source of light were several weak pre-imperial style led lanterns that gave a small greyish-orange reflection off Mando's armour. The only sound was the rush of wind and snow in her ears as well as the snowy crunch under their feel.

Siri recognised entering the second stage of hypothermia when it became even harder to form a coherent thought. She needed to get warm. The bundle in her arms generated warmth, but it would soon feel the adverse effect of this frost as well. It was just a child.

The woman stopped in front of a round stone building with a conical shaped roof, pressed one of the stones on the wall and a metal door slid horizontally open. Without looking back to them, she went inside. Mando nodded for her to enter first, and then followed them. The door hissed shut.

It was a sparsely lit, big room and despite rapidly losing strength and the clarity of thought, Siri forced herself to keep both eyes trained on all the details. Wherever she had entered, she had to have the place analysed for possible dangers, hidden traps and to have an escape route planned. No exceptions. This is how she had survived up until now.

It smelled of food here and sure enough, her periphery vision registered a copper pot hung over a small fire with something gurgling inside The fire was both the light and heat source, where the design of this room with a funnel-shaped roof enabled the weak smoke to escape and the heat to be distributed inside. The woman stood by the fire with her arms crossed and Mando stepped lightly on the line between them. Siri checked on the child – it had a somewhat miserable look on its face. Whatever this woman decided, she better share some of this stew or what she had in that pot with the child before kicking them out.

"You're the Panther, right?"

The woman instantly changed, as if an alchemic reaction happened upon hearing the code-word.

"How do you…?"

"I wouldn't bother you if it wasn't absolutely necessary," said Mando. "I have a child with me. Imps are breathing down our necks and want the kid for hell knows what. Let us stay here for a while."

The woman seemed to think on the Mandalorian's words. Then she crossed gazes with Siri.

"And what about her?" she nodded with her helmeted chin towards Siri in a not very respectful manner. "Don't tell you can't smell the Empire off her. This is a top-grade Imp uniform."

The dirty shirt with a torn sleeve made a feeble attempt to be 'top-grade, but all in all, the woman seemed to know more that her looks suggested, thought Siri, wondering who this 'Panther' was.

Mando turned his head as if wanting to take a look at her. "She's ok."

Beaten up by the frigid wind, all Siri was thinking about at this moment was to get the child fed. Was this warrior lady an alien to not catch the obvious vibe from Siri? But then, as a spy herself, she would have done the same. But never-freaking-mind, please. She needed to feed the child, right now. And warm herself up.

The woman seemed to give them the credit of doubt as she unclasped her helmet and took it off. A mane of dark chocolate hair and a tan face set in hardened features appeared in front of them. She looked vaguely familiar to Siri, but then, she could be anyone. She had crossed paths with many people during her career.

"She better be," said the woman in a clipped tone. "Stay here for tonight. You can eat this," she nodded in the direction of the pot. "Don't try anything funny. We'll talk in the morning." And with that she left again into the freezing night. As the door hissed close behind her, some of the snow managed to get blown inside.

They were left alone with the fire cracking under the copper pot.

Before Siri did or said anything or acknowledged Mando in any way, she walked up to a stone bench near the fire she had noticed earlier and slumped onto it. She untucked the child, helping it sit upright on her lap, and gently squeezed its little clawed hands and feet – they felt cool under her hand.

"Someone needs to get warm," she said to the child as it kept looking between her and the copper pot. She feared that the kid would have done much worse in such temperatures. It looked just mildly uncomfortable – most probably hungry – with only the extremities cold. Perhaps it had in part the reptilian blood circulation, able to adjust to the outside temperature?

A rumble sounded and she lifted her head to see the Mandalorian rummaging through a nearby crate. Thanks the Maker, as she felt that getting up was too much of a feat. He seemed to find a satisfactorily clean bowl and proceeded to fill it with the steaming stew. It looked good, dense, with a rich brown soup and large chunks of meat and vegetables. When he sat next to her on the bench, the delicious aroma made her stomach growl and the sound alerted the child, who snapped, its ears flapping, to look at the curious, offending noise. But when it noticed the steaming bowl filled to the brim with the stew, everything else was forgotten. Mando carefully put the bowl into outstretched, clawed hands and the kid started slurping the stew, with Siri helping him with the larger chunks floating in there.

"He is fifty years old," the modulated baritone broke the silence.

Siri thought she must have misheard. What was he talking about? The kid? She decided the mild hypothermia must have messed with her cognitive abilities. But when she looked to the beskar helmet, she found him looking straight at her.

"…Fifty?"

"Yes."

She looked down to the child who tilted the bowl so that the last drops of the stew trickled into his mouth and then made a tiny burping sound. He squeaked and Mando took the empty bowl from his hands, setting it aside.

"Then we might not even see him utter a coherent word, let alone grow independent and be able to defend himself."

"Yes."

The Mandalorian. A warrior, never letting go of his weapon, one with his armour, never, ever taking off the beskar covering his face, the beskar into which the Code was hammered, beating in one pulse with the rhythm of his soul.

A warrior feeling called to protect this little, green creature.

"How did you end up with him?" How such a unlikely alliance was formed? Siri was so exhausted that she had trouble keeping her eyes open, and the nearby fire didn't manage to banish the cold, so she started to shiver again. But she sensed an opening in Mando, so she needed to forge the iron while it was hot.

He was silent for a moment.

Beskar and silence. It would speak.

"I… I was hired to acquire the asset for an ex-imperial client. He was paying in beskar that the Empire has looted during the Great Purge." The Mandalorian was speaking, his helmet boring into the dancing flames of the fire. Siri sat perfectly still, absorbing his words and his body language. "I delivered the asset. I accepted the beskar. And then… I took the asset back." He turned to the child, and it cooed, waving in Mando's direction.

That was… Almost a confession. A step through the invisible boundary that was set around him. He said it. He actually told her. And she was more than glad to learn more of this strange, wonderful creature.

Despite the howling snowstorm outside, it was quiet here, in this stone shelter. It was quiet and still. The fire cracked, the child just sat on her lap, stuffed, its back propped on her stomach, the Mandalorian next to her, his arms loosely propped on this thighs. In this silence, she was sure she almost heard his soft intakes of breath through the helmet.

"You did the right thing," she said quietly, hoarsely.

"Yeah."

"Is there more of you, the Mandalorians? Can't they help you?"

He took his time before answering. Siri had almost started to regret asking this question and feared of being too pushy, but in the end Mando found his voice.

"They've already assisted me. And they were forced to go deeper into hiding."

It seemed that wherever he went, trouble would follow him. A mercenary, a bounty hunter, one you should be very much afraid of – to be turned in one moment into one they hunt, with a precious cargo he unwittingly had sworn to protect, at all costs.

"Mando, you need a plan," said Siri quietly, seeing her distorted reflection in his helmet. Her voice was cracking form exhaustion. "You can run, but they will, in the end, find you. This is the former Empire. Once they bite, they don't ever let go." She was convinced she had already spoken to him of the necessity of a plan, but right now, despite seeing him almost sighing, she felt it was crucial to reiterate that they – he and the child – needed a plan.

"I know," was all he said.

Siri looked to the child, who by this time was falling in and out of sleep, lulled by the fire and the soft voices of their conversation.

"You need to get some sleep."

There was no one else in the room. Mando spoke those words to her. And while it sounded a little bit exaggerated, it was only the second time she felt as if he saw her as a person, a human being – those were words he had addressed just to her, concerning her personally. The first time being when he had treated her wound. Siri couldn't put a finger on him. What concerned him the most was the child and its safety, herself being just a temporary addition that only needed to behave. No concern here. But then, he would do or say something that made her realise that the Mandalorian had a watchful eye on everything she was doing – and maybe even experiencing.

But most of all, he was right. Her inner batteries flashed angry red and she needed the regenerative powers of sleep. "I know." It was nice chatting and she would love to learn more, but her body had reached its limits. And that was certainly a lot to take in. She needed time to process it.

Siri passed the child into Mando's arms – he accepted the tiny bundle with the utmost care – and set about finding a place to sleep near the fire. She knew it would be most beneficial if she forced herself to down some of the stew, but anything more than those few steps towards a makeshift bedding from pine branches and a military issue blanket thrown onto them seemed like an insurmountable task. So she collapsed there, on her left side and face to the fire, directing her last effort towards covering herself in the bantha cloak, her faithful companion. Not even the dull pain of her would and crawling tendrils of cold managed to steer her away from the sleep.

The overpowering tiredness manifested as a buzzing ringing in her ears that muted all the sounds into white-noise oblivion. She actually felt feverish. She needed to battle this cold, so as not to risk infecting the child. She could do it. She used to battle worse. To run with a case bronchitis, injecting cough suppressants into her thigh so as not to alert the enemy to her presence. This fever that was running through her was a piece of cake.

Would he leave her there, when the dawn came? She had no idea. No, whatever question was that? He certainly wouldn't do that. That was the delirious exhaustion speaking. He was a Mandalorian. He was an honourable man. And if any, she sensed something tiny had shifted between their fragile association. He had just shared some of his personal history with her, hadn't he? Besides, even though knowing about her questionable past, he saw through her, at least to the basic stuff. Otherwise, he would not let her get close to the child. He was the same. Neither labelling himself good or bad, dark or light. Simply doing what he felt was right.

Protecting those who were important to him.

She was out in moments, like a blown candle.

Having added fresh logs to the fire, the Mandalorian found another bedding and carried it closer to the warmth of the flames, between the stone ledge and the fireplace, on the other side than where the doctor was lying. As much as he would be perfectly content to keep the child close, it needed warmth more than the coldness of beskar.

"Stay here. Don't wander anywhere," he told the baby, setting it onto the military blanket and wrapping the little blanket it was carried in here around the tiny body, himself sitting next to the child, leaning his back on the wall. The kid looked up to him, then to the doctor bundled in her cloak, and then back to Mando. It seemed disoriented.

"I'll be right here. Go to sleep. I'm not going anywhere," he assured the child. He would try to get a nap closer to the dawn. The standardised clock on his visor's display told him it was around ten in the evening. Maybe he could even do some reading.

A gentle tap on his arm. The child was looking up to him, with eyes wide and hopeful.

It shouldn't sleep alone. Damn, it shouldn't be on the run, scared.

The Mandalorian scooped the little one and helped him nestle comfortably near his unarmoured side, covering him with the smaller blanket and shielding him from the night's cold with his arm. The child was warm and tingles spread on his skin under the tunic where its small body was leaning, pressed snugly.

He relaxed and allowed himself to sleep.

Whatever sound woke him up, it was now gone. The Mandalorian looked around and realised with a start that the child was gone from its place by his side. Panic flooded him with an acid shot before he forced himself to calm down and sweep the room thoroughly.

And surely enough, the child didn't wander too far.

He stood up and with careful, silent steps he walked over to where the doctor was sleeping, and there, from under her bantha cloak, peeked a set of two green ears and closed eyes. Of course. Both looked deeply asleep, unmoving, with breaths regular. The doctor looked less feverish, her face no longer covered by a pale sheen of sweat. He marvelled at this woman's ability to recover. She must've got health like a dewback.

The kid would be surely be sad if they parted with the doctor and her cloak.

Mando stoked the fire with a log, fanned the flames with a small steel plate propped on the legs of the grate and poured himself half of what was left from the stew. He set the pot near the embers so that the doctor would have it warm when she woke up. Retreating to a dark corner, he double checked that the doctor's back was facing him and set out to finally eat something.

He was up and ready before the crack of dawn. To pass the time and to scout this place, he took a short walk around the building they were in. It was one of the last homes of this village, set in some distance from the wall of the forest, with few giant pines shielding it as a fence of sorts. The house had several narrow windows with a darkened glass that was impossible to see-through, not even the golden glow of the flames penetrated through it. Was this designed to keep a curious eye away, to not be easily spotted from the orbit, or to not be seen by something passing though the dense forest around the settlement? He didn't know when exactly, but during the night the faint led lights on the streets were put out. The dark village looked as if uninhabited, deserted, the stone buildings of various shapes neatly covered with the fluffy snow.

The Mandalorian was a man of steel nerves. He was the one that others anticipated with a sickening fear gripping their hearts. But standing here in the absolute silence and stillness, he was poked with a feeling of uneasiness. As if feeling someone's, something's eyes on himself.

He kept observing the village and the forest behind it, all still dark with the pre-dawn grey, daring something to move, but the scenery didn't change a fraction. The only thing that was different was the snow which stopped falling altogether.

Feeling satisfied with the perusal of their surroundings, he returned inside. He sensed nothing out of the ordinary happening here, his instincts weren't flashing him any warning signs.

It was not long before the woman returned. His visor display said it was zero seven thirty when the warrior woman came through the sliding door and greeted him with silent gaze. She was wearing her fur amour in its entirety sans the helmet and Mandalorian could see that the wariness present in the woman before softened during the night.

"The village council want to speak to with you."

He nodded.

The woman slid her gaze off him and settled it behind him, on, presumably, the doctor and the child, who were still sleeping.

"They want to see the kid, too."

The Mandalorian contemplated for a moment which option would be safer for the kid – rouse it from its sleep and drag to the meeting, keeping an eye on him, or let him have his rest and leave the babysitting to the doctor, who had proven to be quite capable of protecting the child, too, up to this point. Speaking of which, didn't they want to see the doctor as well?

"It will be just me."

The woman looked for a moment ready to wrestle the child from its sleep on her own, but perhaps something in the gaze he was giving her from under the beskar managed to get through and warned her to not even think of it.

"Have it your way," she shrugged and left the small building, with the Mandalorian following in her steps.

The weather was improving drastically, the overcast sky parting to give way to some blue. Maybe it was going to be sunny after all. He really hated to think of the child having to constantly be in the unbearable chill.

The settlement awoke with dawn. On their way they passed people clad in fur going about their business: clearing the streets of the fresh snow with portable blowers and more ancient looking osier brooms, carrying baskets with goods, pushing carts with wood. Just as the village seemed asleep last night, it was bursting with life now. Two middle-aged women engrossed in a talk spotted him and a frown crept onto their faces. It passed though when they noticed the woman who was walking one step in front of him. She nodded imperceptibly and the two women relaxed. Approved.

His visor display was kind enough to inform that it was currently minus eight centigrade – the people living here seemed well adapted to the environment.

"Is this the only settlement in the vicinity?" he asked his guide.

She shot him a suspicious look. "No."

How any of those people found themselves here on this remote planet? The housing technology seemed like old school Republic and the technology he saw so far looked like salvaged from various places. He hoped though that soon he would have some answers. Or just the approvement from the council to stay here for a while.

The woman stopped before the entrance to a low, circular building and indicated that he should come inside first. The Mandalorian obliged, his thoughts once again wandering into the direction of the child, but this time without anxiety. The little one would be fine.

He entered and his eyes took in a low ceiling with led lights giving a shy, orange glow and a holo display with a console by one of the walls. It looked like an interactive scanner and central command station. In the middle, several people stood gathered, speaking softly about themselves. They turned their heads in unison as he stepped inside. The woman followed behind and the door hissed shut.

The people gathered here were mostly young adults, with few elders. All of them were clad in long fur robes with puffy, fur-rimmed hoods resting on their backs. One of them, an ancient looking woman with very sharp eyes, tanned skin and grey hair framing her face stepped forward.

"Thank you, Cara," she nodded to his guide. The woman nodded sharply without a word and crossed her arms. Then, the old woman addressed her words to him.

"So, lone warrior, you come seeking shelter."

"Yes."

"My name is Athlena and I preside as a chief of this settlement. We are simple people. This is a peaceful planet. We do not seek war."

"I don't want war." As he said it, a flash of something dark crossed over chief Athlena's feature. The Mandalorian was not one to care about palace etiquette and he was used to talks and conversation that were concrete and to the point. And besides, if she expected him to share his name around a crowd of strangers, she had too high of a hope.

"And yet you have brought it."

"No one was tracking us. We came alone."

"Yes, you've brought quite a party with you."

"We just want to stay away from the main routes. We seek nothing else."

"Brave of you to speak for those absent here."

The Mandalorian suppressed a sigh. This woman was speaking in riddles, but he sensed no ill-intent from her. She was testing him. Her vibrant eyes spoke of the intelligence hidden beneath and some intention towards him. He wondered briefly if his good fellow Jardalt knew of the reception this place provided. But the terror of the Empire was long and wide-reaching, like a starless night creeping into every corner. Even the most remote place would lose nothing by being overly careful.

"We won't impose on you long. I'm looking for a shelter for a week, maybe two."

"That's a long time. What will you eat?" The older woman seemed to radiate a subtle, shrewd smile and it mildly infuriated him.

"I'm sure there is something I could help with." For the child's safety, he would even chop wood. And even if he presented them credits, he was sure the chief would rather prefer he performed a community task. On a backwater planet hidden from all radars and supplies most likely not arriving frequently, all hands were on deck.

"I'm sure there will be plenty of ways to help." He blinked. So that was it. She was settling the deal. Very soon, to that. "Stay and rest then. Cara, please show our guest where they will be most useful."

Cara nodded, but before they left, the old woman called for his attention once more.

"Two weeks. No longer."

Two weeks. The chief had accepted his petition. The Mandalorian would make sure this time was used well.

Observed by the council, they left the building. He had expected to have been interrogated more thoroughly, grilled about his history, and asked to show them the child no matter what. Instead, the older woman, Athlena, seemed to just measure him up visually and decide of the form of payment for the period they would be on the planet's surface. Fair enough.

Outside, he noted with a pleasant surprise that the skies had cleared and sun was reflecting with brilliance off the snow. He needed to check with the doctor and the child and let them know they were staying here.

"Hey, Mando." He looked to Cara who by this time walked few steps away from him. "This way."

He followed her and he almost sighed when she led him to an open shed stuffed to the brim with freshly cut logs of wood. Even through the helmet, the smell was overpowering – and pleasant. Next to it, there was a workbench, two tree stumps with axes embedded into it and a barrow with some tools.

His wishes had been granted. The Mandalorian stood there, staring at the high pile of wood impatiently waiting to be chopped up into hearth-useable chunks. And the pile started back at him.

"It's a remote planet. We're old school," said Cara, walking to the workbench.

"How did end up here?" he asked. This woman's gait had definitely something military in it.

Cara took off her thick fur jacket and set it on a workbench. Underneath, she was wearing a thick long-sleeved tunic, puffy vest and a set of soldier trousers. She measured him with a hard gaze.

"Why don't you tell me about yourself, 'lone warrior'?"

He took a deep breath. This was going to be a long day.

By the time it was ten standard hour the Mandalorian was hungry and thirsty. Chopping wood was no easy pastime. And by this time, he and Cara had swapped their stories. She had learned that the Mandalorian was up until few weeks ago a famed bounty hunter and due to a twist in fate ended up with a strange child in his care. He, on the other hand, knew now that Cara was a former Alliance shock trooper, who grew tired of menial tasks she hadn't signed up for and retired into a freelance life. It seemed that sharing their stories and some sweat over a job made Cara less suspicious about his person, for she stopped shooting him surly looks.

That was all fine, but it was really the highest time he checked with the child. Where in the morning the prospect of leaving it for a few moments seemed acceptable, now it was few hours with him not having a clue as to the child's whereabouts. He tried to rationalise his anxiety. The doctor was surely competent enough to take care of the little one in his brief absence. She would make sure it was fed before she ate something herself. And, most definitely, she would not run to the ship and away. With the child.

The axe hit the last log with the splinters flying and the Mandalorian decided it was enough of community service for the time being. He left the axe embedded in the tree stump and found Cara's gaze who was rearranging the chopped logs. She nodded, so Mando promptly took the opportunity to go find the child.

The house where they slept was empty and his first reaction was a surge of even more anxiety. Whenever it concerned the child, his feelings would spike, he noticed. It was counter-productive. Think, Din. Maybe the doctor had been intercepted and invited for some community service as well, obviously taking the child with her. He went to make rounds through the village, then.

His fancies about some hot beverage and a hearty stew forgotten, he focused on scanning everything in his sight. The frozen ground paved with stones had been all neatly swept and with people walking to and fro in every direction, he had no chances of identifying the doctor's trail. The villagers regarded him with curious looks, but didn't show any fear at his presence. The news of him being approved had surely travelled fast. After making a few turns the Mandalorian found a marketplace of sorts and scanned the area in search of the tell-tale grey bantha cloak of the doctor, but didn't see anything. Mando entered few workshops and a community hall, but without any success. He knew that she and the child must have been somewhere here, but he couldn't keep mild anxiety from crawling into his bones and started to honestly regret not taking the child with him in the first place.

Two young men stood by the brazier with smouldering coals and wood, warming their hands, and he asked them if they had seen the doctor – a young woman with a green child. He assumed the doctor must have had made herself known and the people here should be aware of her presence, but apparently those young men were oblivious to the hot village news, because they only shook their heads.

Mando walked further through the tiny marketplace and spotted a matron, an older woman with black hair, carrying a basket full of electronic components. He approached her and tried again. "Ma'am. Have you seen the newcomer young woman?"

The matron took a stance and despite her being quite shorter than the Mandalorian, she appeared to be looking down on him.

"Well of course I have!" she bellowed. He took half a step back. "She's been looking for you all over the village! Where the kriffin' hell have you been? You left her and your child alone!" He tried to cut in, but the woman just took a breath and continued. "I was with her just moments ago. Poor girl, working so hard with her torn clothes and not even a squeak or a whine. You take better care of her next time!" The Mandalorian tried again, but the woman was taking no prisoners. "'Don't want to hear your sorry excuses! Go down the street and to your left. The glasshouse."

"Thank you." He nodded and left hastily. Yes, he was correct. The doctor had made herself known in the village already.

The Mandalorian rushed in the direction the woman had indicated and true to her words, there was a large glasshouse fitted between the houses, its panelled windows glistening in the sunshine. The 'glasshouse' seemed to be their word for a greenhouse, as he could see that this building was full of plants of various sizes, their leaves pushing on the windows. He found the door and after passing through the windcatcher, he entered right under the shade of a large bushy plant and some vines dangling from the roof.

It was distinctly warmer here and somewhere in the background, the Mandalorian heard the soft din of conversation. He followed the sound, walking through small fruit trees, patches with what looked like root vegetables and herbs of various shapes. He was close now. He… He could tell the child was there.

Rounding the corner with a giant spiky plant, he spotted them. Two village women, the doctor, turned with her back to him and no longer wearing her torn shirt but something else, and next to them, perched on a wooden bench, the child.

He stopped and before he had a chance to make any sound, any gesture, the child turned its head towards him, the large, delicate ears flapping around. Mando stood there and watched as the little one slid carefully from the bench and unbeknownst to the doctor and the village women, started to scamper towards him. His heart made a flip and he walked up, meeting the child halfway. The Mandalorian scooped the child into his arms and held it close to him, feeling its presence. He felt his anxiety drifting away.

It was then that the two women and the doctor noticed his arrival. The doctor turned, a bundle of herbs in one hand and a smudge of soil on her cheerful face and for the first time since this madness had started, Mando felt like he and child could truly let their guard down. Just for a single moment before the fight commenced again. There was something strange about this place, but it wasn't hostile, and in this moment, holding the child close to him, the sun streaming down on them, and surrounded by the brilliant, green growth, he knew he made a good decision coming here.