Fortunately, before the rain picks up too much, there's a whistle through the air. Hera looks up, a smile tugging at her mouth even before she sees them. Two figures, like twin shadows passing along the clouds, then turning to circle above them.

Hera slows their steps as the figures descend. As they do, she can see their webbed wings along the Gazaran's arms and legs, their dark fur matted with rainwater, their pointed faces and the long claws on their hands. Once close enough, there's a call, sing-song, down to them.

"Syndulla!"

"Cul-uutan!" Hera calls up in response, grinning now. The calling Gazar touches down on the slope, and Hera releases their crate and sets aside her pack. They've been desperate for these supplies, Hera knows that, but she's also not surprised that it's her Cul-uutan reaches to first.