Beneath the Broken Moon

Nyah brushed a lock of ginger hair from her brow, smearing dirt across her cheek without noticing. The soil here was rich-too rich-and fickle with Earth plants. But she was determined. Her hands, bare and callused, pressed into the bed as she gently tucked a small sapling into place.

Behind her, she felt him again.

Not with footsteps-Rha'lek never made noise when he didn't want to-but with presence. That massive, quiet energy he carried like a cloak. It used to scare her. Now it just made her heartbeat skip a little.

"You watching me again, Rha'lek?" she asked without turning around.

A soft rumble came from the shadows. "You are... efficient," he said in slow, careful English. "Focused. Like a knife."

She smiled and sat back on her knees. "That's a strange compliment."

He emerged then, tall and imposing beneath the cracked dome. The moonlight caught the faded blue markings on his gray skin. His golden eyes were on her, calm but burning-like some ancient fire that never went out.

Rha'lek crouched beside her, far too close by Yautja standards. She didn't flinch.

"I do not lie," he said.

Nyah studied his face. The ridged mandibles, the heavy brow, the scars that slashed across his jaw like an old map. And yet, none of it frightened her anymore. There was something sacred in how still he was.

"This one," she said, pointing to the sapling, "is called firegrass. It used to grow wild in my grandmother's yard. It needs heat to bloom."

Rha'lek tilted his head. "Then why plant it here? This moon... is cold."

She smiled sadly. "Maybe I want to see something beautiful survive in the wrong place."