The drum of Jared's knuckles on Cato's brow-plate woke him from a light sleep. He articulated a low grunt of thanks, stood, and took up watch of the grotto entryway from another low shelf of flattened stone.
There was little to report. A glow of grey dawn light was slowly beginning to eke in under the camouflage curtain Cato had attached over the cave entrance those long hours prior. All that stirred the little, invisible lines of nylon strings and anchored alarm bells strung out beneath the curtain's somewhat frayed hemming were occasional, chilly pre-dawn wind gusts. The hidden motion sensor paddles remained inert. Nothing beyond the weather was rousing around their hideout in the twilight before sunrise.
The windy silence. The great quiet of the sleeping world beyond their little 'hole in the wall'. It lead to a moment of introspection, even as Cato worked to keep his attentions sharp and his senses focused even sharper. He looked down at his horned hunting bow lying placidly in his hands, resting slightly over the splay of his knees. He couldn't be exactly sure what compelled him to join up with Starchaser's expedition. The venture felt like an extension of his already chosen duties patrolling out in the deep wilds of the Levant Outback: to be there, to be helpful, let the dangers and extremes of roaming bandit warbands and untamed frontier worlds serve as suitable training grounds.
He cast a look across the low lit cavern, where Delila and Kinsey were already breathing gently in their sleep while Jared was trying to catch what remained of the very early morning to rest. Their company... was good. Uncomplicated, forthright, honest. As straight and true as the arrow shaft knocked idly on his bowstring. They demanded little of him, save his fighting skills, which he could not fault and was doubtlessly why the Starchaser's had hired him initially. A far cry, Cato thought somewhat bitterly, from the theatrics and drama that seemed to constantly haunt most corners of the
Mando'ade. It seemed you couldn't put three Mandalorians together without at least two sinking into argument. So much of it got in the way of good warcraft.
Cato rose, lightly stretching out. By the light outside now illuminating through the camouflage curtains and from his own locally synched chronometre, local dawn had finally risen. He'd allowed a good half hour to pass before moving back towards the firepit and the sleeping rolls, carefully jostling each body awake until the small team was either indulging in full-jawed yawns or reaching to start the electro-kettles and begin a caffe brew.
"Nothing to report," He said quietly over a light breakfast. His gauntlets were off and to the side, sleeves rolled to his elbows, as he quickly put the previous evening's dishes through a cold, soapy wash.
"Only wind and birdsong until the light got better. We either evaded any possible air-drone patrols, we destroyed the lion's share of them back in the forest, or there's something else waiting up in that installation. Though... it's odd."
Cato finished drying a pair of tin-plates and stowed them in a waiting travel pack, glancing up.
"This place, this world, feels quiet. Like being stuck in an anechoic room. There should be more life about us and yet, I can't shake this feeling of... vacancy. Unnatural emptiness."
Jared Starchaser
Kinsey Starchaser
Delila Castillon
Cato Fett
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