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It's a beautiful, clear night. Full moon and cool air, and Ghost was already well-rested and fed. Hera was sure they could fly on straight to Mandalore. The problem was that even if Ghost had had her fill, Kanan and Hera hadn't. As much as she might want to, Hera's not so sure she could last the whole night. She'll definitely need to eat first.

Fortunately for them, the forests outside Taris make for good cover for Ghost, who nestles up along the treetops, the points of the scales along her back hardly distinguishable from the reaching branches. Chopper opted to also rest, while Hera and Kanan had climbed down the trees, dropping down to the forest bed and making their way to the tavern on the nearby road. It's a loud night, but it means the bucketheads have no interest in making more work for themselves as they enter, and no one pays them much mind as they take a seat at a table in the corner.

Two candles burn low at the center of the table. Hera leaves to collect drinks and food from the other side of the room, while Kanan settles low in his chair, watching the commotion of the tavern from over the candlelight. There's a Rodian band, playing mostly high-pitched stringed and rumbling percussive instruments, but they're hard to hear over noise of chatter and various beings betting over games of pazaak and dejarik.

It's a mixed crowd, but that's not surprising, so close to the rifts that rattled through Taris.

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There's an unsettling sort of comfort to being surrounded by so many living sentients, one that Kanan -- since he was Caleb -- has always been afraid to really enjoy. Comfort makes you soft, but --

He grins crookedly at Hera as she comes back with her bounty, moving to stand so he can help her redistribute the plates and mugs before it all comes crashing down.

"I meant to ask at our last stop, but -- we're good for money? Or do we need to pick-up some odd jobs to have enough for . . . all our friends?"

Ghost. He's talking about Ghost. Mostly.

"We can make it through to Mandalore," Hera says, taking a seat next to him once they have the mugs and plates sorted out.

"There's usually more work there. And a rift path to the Black Forest."

If they need cheap meals for Ghost, the still-unencumbered forests in Kashyyyk were a good bet.

"You got anyone in mind? I don't have as many Mandalorian contacts as I'd like."

Read: none. Maybe some traders, some mercenaries, an itinerant wanderer or two, but no one that actually permanently lives there.

It's a problem.

"Ralia Lok?"

Hera smiles. "Clan Lok always loved dragons. I'm sure they'd find some reason for Ghost to stick around."

"As long as they don't try to steal her."

Kanan's broad smile suggests he's pretty much joking.

Mostly.

"But I've heard good things about 'em, so count me in."

As if she can ever count him out.

"I don't think she'd go for that."

Not that some haven't tried. But Ghost wouldn't be wrangled.

"We'll have to be careful about landing there, though. More and more of the Mandelorian clans are..."

She glances up, ensuring any Imperial guards are safely out of earshot. "... turning?"

Kanan's eyebrows go up, and he buries his face in his drink so as to not show it to the world at large.

"Applied pressure? Or they think they see which way the wind is blowing?"

Hera lifts her mug, her eyes still scanning the room.

"Maybe they think they can gain status in the Empire."

"I always get stuck on 'but why do they want it? It's not like it doesn't turn on itself at the slightest opportunity."

He's just saying.

"Status they don't have yet?"

She puts down her mug, leaning back in her seat. "The Mandelorian houses were always jockeying for power. Now some of them think they've got a ladder, and they're climbing too fast to notice the rungs are cracked."

"Old habits die hard," Kanan says, grabbing a piece of deep-fried something-or-other and taking a big bite.

And a minute later --

"I feel bad for everyone who looks to them and gets nothing back. Though I guess that means they fit in to their much-hoped-for stomping grounds."

Dammit.

"Sometimes the ones who value strength aren't so great at spotting weakness."

Hera rips off a smaller piece of the something-or-other on her own plate. "Anyway. The flight should mostly be clear. Especially if we go by night."

Which - this might be her way of feeling out how Kanan feels about that.

Kanan exhales through drawn-tight lips as he thinks that over.

Then --

"If you're confident, and she's confident . . . "

He shrugs, and if it takes a bit of effort, so what? He's done running away from what he fears, so what's left but to push into it?

"I promise not to cover my eyes and scream."

"You can try to sleep if you want."

It's not always that easy, on a dragon. But -

"I think we can manage it, and it'd be good if one of us is rested."

"As long as the fasteners don't fray, I can probably do something like sleep," Kanan says wryly.

"And if you don't need help keeping awake . . . you're right that one of us should be alert when we hit Mandalore."

"I'll still have Chopper."

Hera grins. "I'll make sure he doesn't cut the fasteners."

Kanan winces.

"Good call. It's not that I think he wants to kill me . . . "

He trails off. (Or does he?)

"He doesn't want to kill you, love."

Picking out another small piece. "He just sometimes has - an unfortunate sense of humor."

"Hmm," Kanan says, rubbing his chin.

"Does that mean it'll get better if I remember to laugh even in the face of terror, or will that only encourage him?"

Inquiring minds want to know. (Mostly Kanan's.)

Hera rolls her eyes.

"I think he's only trying to entertain himself."

" . . . maybe we should teach him some solo card games."

Or, you know. Not.

"I'll keep him entertained."

With a shrug, "I could always ask him a lot of navigation questions I don't really need."

How does that --

"He's going to humor you, isn't he?"

"Or he'll just get mad at me."

Yet the thought doesn't seem to worry her much. "Either way, he won't be paying attention to you."

"I thank you for your sacrifice," he says very seriously.

"Though. Uh. Wake me before the crossing, if you don't mind?"

Hera nods. "I'm hoping one of us will be fully alert by then."

"Even if not -- "

Kanan's smile is wry, and only a little forced.

"Otherwise I get strange dreams."

"We wouldn't want that to happen."

She's smiling, but her voice is low, and quiet enough, to indicate she's taking this seriously.

"No, we really wouldn't. I -- can't always tell they're not real. So. Awake for the crossing is always the better plan."

They're . . . very terrible dreams, generally. A deep sense of displacement and the mind's attempt to reconcile that seems to never be a pretty thing.

Hera moves her hand over the table, gently placing it over Kanan's.

"Don't worry, love. I won't forget."

He startles when she touches him, like part of his mind was elsewhere. But then he smiles.

"I know you won't."

She keeps her hand on his for a few seconds, before adding -

"And I won't even leave it to Chopper to wake you."

Because then they get back to Chopper's... sense of humor.

"Well, if you want me to flail my way off Ghost, that's as good a way as any."

He chuckles a little, very quietly, and takes another bite of fried . . . whatever.

"It would wake you up pretty fast."

She reaches for her mug again. "But no, I don't think so."

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