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⠀Kuiil had led the pair to his personal encampment, a small moisture farm in the middle of seemingly nowhere, decorated with a large tent-like home and wired fences that acted as paddocks — quiet and isolated. Dalilah felt like she was being led to a planet in itself, as they came upon signs of years living off the land in his solitude. But the girl could identify no unutterable loneliness within him as they silently walked, instead read in him that the personal choice for isolation was one which sought peace, and was not a consequence of mere circumstance. She instantly admired him for that.
⠀He was someone who had sought what she was unknowingly seeking and had succeeded.
⠀As they crested a small hillside, the man atop the slowly lumbering creature adequately informed the Mandalorian and the girl that the beasts they had encountered were called Blurrgs — horrible and bulbous, foul-smelling things that the Ugnaught had tamed through tireless patience to be one of his mounts. From the other side of Mando, Dalilah eyed the Blurrgs posture and expression if it even had any. Even with the domesticated nature of the one this kind stranger was riding, she stuck close to Mando, still in fear of it. Still picturing the brutal ferocity of the ones that attacked them, and running through her mind the imagery of it being her head in its mouth rather than the Mandalorian's arm.
⠀After some time, they had settled within that spacious home they had spotted, ushered inwards to sit on small, wooden stools that were clearly only made for the Ugnaught. A narrow metal table in between Mando and Dalilah's legs as they scarcely avoided eye-contact as they waited for their host to speak on the situation. The host was busying himself amongst his yet again small kitchenette, pacing back and forth as he prepared something hot, and hopefully fulfilling. He carefully poured the hot liquids into a bowl and cup, teetering himself over to the small table between the man and woman.
⠀"Here," he finally spoke. "You look starved." He glanced up towards Dalilah, who had found herself leaning forward onto her knees, then perking up at his gesture. Her breath caught in her parched throat at the contact of genuine kindness but squandered no time in shakenly reaching out to the utensil he had provided and the bowl which seared her fingertips due to its heat, but it was nothing if it meant she could finally eat. The frothy substance swilled enticingly at her, and Dalilah discerned the oncoming soothing nature of a simple bowl of soup.
⠀"Thank you," Mando beat her to it, nodding politely before using his gloved finger to push the cup of dark tea just a few more inches her way.
⠀Dalilah nodded her head quickly, tenderly lifting the bowl into her lap and blowing gently on the liquid before repeating his words. "Thank you." Her voice always below a cautious whisper, as if she was daunted to disturb the dust and inflate her lungs too much — as if the organs would burst from inactivity.
