Kanan feels his heartrate pick up as the anger in the song grows, breath coming sympathetically fast. The words go by too quickly for him to follow the precise story, but he catches glimpses of the dark, the winding journey, the desperation.

He can feel the distant echo of it in his own memories of his time on the run, a fellow-feeling that has very little to do with deserts, but -- he can get there from here. A little.

And there's something . . . some tension drawn tight and snapping when Hera's father leans in to finish out the last chorus.

They're none of them safe, not yet. But perhaps someday they can be. All of them.

It's a good dream to strive toward. And really, that's all Kanan (and Caleb) had ever wanted.

That, and Hera.