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Hera first made this climb years ago, back in her activist days. Not even that long after she'd first left Ryloth. Back then it had only been months since the start of the fires that had ripped through Veron's rainforests, destroying the ancient Gazaran cities and settlements that had spidered among the forests' high branches and dense foliage. The Empire had claimed the fires were the result of natural disasters, part of the planet-wide cataclysms that it had come to help the local population combat. But where there had once been lush rainforest and Gazaran homes and schools and temples, there was now an Imperial base, a construction yard, a supply distribution center, a prison. The winged Gazaran were forced to either migrate to the existing settler trading communities, among Rodians and humans and other species that had migrated to the planet over the years, or retreat to the mountains and more temperate forests. One option put them directly under the control of the Empire, the other indirectly, as outside their rainforests the Gazaran couldn't survive without imported food and water.

Which was where Hera and her contacts had come in, bringing supplies to those Gazaran still living outside the settler communities, giving them a way to avoid the Empire. And, later, recruiting those who were willing to inform them of the Empire's activities on Veron. It was a network she'd continued through the tumult of her early years off Ryloth. Despite what they had been through, the Gazaran were friendly, gracious, and always glad to see visitors. Being among them was the closest Hera had felt to being home on Ryloth, something she especially looked forward to after months of Stormtroopers and sleazy cantina patrons.

It might be why she's not complaining about the hour they've already trekked, along the slopes of a moderately tall mountain, nor about the hour of hiking they still have to go. The ground is mostly dry soil and pale brown clay, with little sign of plant life, though in the distance ahead of them, a few trees sway in the breeze. The sky is half clouded, half bright with sunlight, nearly cut down the middle as the clouds blow west. Hera can no longer see the Ghost behind them – they'd left Chopper back with it, all other systems powered down to avoid planetary scanners. And even still, they'd landed far out of their way, to ensure if the Empire were to come across it, this wouldn't lead them to the Gazaran.

But that has meant hiking. Hiking with loaded packs, and a crate between them that bobbles along in its little antrigrav field.

So while not complaining, Hera does slow for a few seconds, and reach to take out her canteen.

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"Because of the war? Or from before that, just from . . . "

How to put this?

"How spacers are, around Ryloth. About Ryloth."

Hera takes her time thinking over this question, her eyes flickering up to the sky, the cloud cover creeping farther along it.

"It didn't start with the war," she says. "But some of it was also just how I was. I wanted to wander outside, I wanted to meet everyone I could - and my parents decided they'd rather drill me in how to protect myself than keep me locked away."

"The galaxy's too big and too full of stuff to wait around?"

There's a reason Caleb was always asking questions. Kanan can relate.

"Something like that," she says, with another small smile.

"And when I was that young, I didn't - I never felt the way others must have seen me. I didn't feel small, I didn't understand why I couldn't go where or do what I wanted."

"Good to see some things haven't changed," Kanan says, voice warm. He can't quite help himself.

"When did you figure it out? That . . . how other people saw you, I mean, and that it was different from how you saw yourself?"

Her first thought is not to answer. She knows if she tells Kanan she'd rather not talk about it, he'll respect it. And the truth, the answer she feels down in her bones, the moment she realized that she was small, and weak, and limited -

That's not something that she'll share today.

But -

"There's a reason, you know. Why our home was built to be a place to hide."

"Because people keep hunting you."

It's not really a question, and he drops his gaze again, nudging the crate along a little faster.

"Sorry, I don't mean to -- "

Hera shakes her head.

"This was a long time ago, centuries ago. At the height of the occupation. My clan - well, it wouldn't have fit in one mountain back then. Most lived in Nabat, they were probably the largest clan in the city. It was a bigger city then, too."

"How much bigger?"

The scale of loss is always staggering, but . . .

"Than now..."

She slows, readjusting the pack on her shoulders. "A little more than twice what it is now. At least, that's what we think from what's left. A lot of it was destroyed during the occupation, and when the Hutts withdrew. People were taken, or they migrated to Lessu or the other cities. Or they fled."

Kanan exhales heavily.

"So a lot bigger. Was that more dangerous then? You were just talking about hiding, so . . . "

"It was dangerous," she answers. "the way an occupation is dangerous."

Her eyes stay ahead now, her voice quieter than before, but no less steady. A kind of built-in ease that comes with having heard this story many, many times, until like blasterfire and Huttese and the feel of a ship's controls under her fingers, it was drilled into her.

"The Syndulla clan became known for resisting the Hutts. They'd attack slaver ships and caravans, disrupt their rule however they could. It probably wasn't that many, but enough that the name became known. And then the Hutts came down on all of them."

Edited 2018-04-19 03:03 (UTC)

"How many got out?"

His voice is low, but he keeps moving at a steady pace.

Even if a quarter of them made it, even if half of them made it . . . it would still never be enough. Every one lost is . . . it means something, or it should. Not to the Hutts or the slavers or the Empire or . . .

But to everyone else. it should.

"About a thousand fled into the desert. They were the ones who built our home."

Her tone doesn't change, her eyes stay forward. "Nearly six thousand we know were taken. And then the rest, maybe another thousand, we don't know for sure - we don't know what happened to them."

Edited 2018-04-19 05:06 (UTC)

So much lost, so many people . . . sorry isn't ever going to cut it.

Kanan looks at Hera briefly, then turns to face forward before asking his next question. His voice is still very quiet.

"Was there a siege? Or -- "

"It started that way. And then it was hunting them down, anyone with our clan name, any way they could. Bounty hunters, raids, cutting deals with others to turn them in."

Her voice grows deeper with those last words, almost something of a growl beneath them. It's the only time her voice changes.

"And for the ones who could flee, it wasn't easy to survive alone in the desert. They built secret ways to travel to cities and towns to get supplies, but even then, it was any easy way to get picked off. And then some tried to hide their names, or encouraged their children not to choose it as their clan name."

Kanan sucks in a quiet breath.

"So you're -- you and your father aren't the only ones with the name left, are you?"

She shakes her head.

"There are a couple other families. But not very many are left now."

"Do you think that'll change in the future? When . . . "

His voice trails off, because this possibility is almost impossible to fathom.

" . . . when all of this is over? If it ever is. Given that you and Cham aren't the last two, I mean."

Edited 2018-04-19 19:27 (UTC)

"I don't know, Kanan."

The cloud cover has reached them now, shading this side of the mountain. The air is cooling, which is welcome, but she'd rather they reach shelter before a storm hits.

"I'm more focused on what's going on right now."

"Me, too, honestly," Kanan agrees, huffing out a quiet breath. It isn't laughter, just . . . tension, of some kind.

"The future feels heavy, like when I think about it I'm making assumptions that I don't have a right to make."

"I'd just rather be thinking about what I can do now."

And right now, what she can do is shove this crate up a mountain.

Kanan is quiet for a few moments, also focusing on shoving this crate up the mountain.

And then --

"We could play 'I Spy'."

That would probably hurt less than this conversation must have.

"I don't think it's that much farther."

She looks over to him. "I'm all right. It's just - this kind of thing reminds me of it. All the steps we took to keep our home hidden, and we'd had centuries to work it out."

"They've done pretty well here, the Gazaran. I know they've had a lot of outside help, too. And -- we'll do what we can to keep their secrets. I'm not terrible at those, most of the time."

He doesn't quite smile.

"We'll get you back to Ryloth someday, even if just for a visit. It's . . . I've heard it's good to go home again."