Swiftcurrent Creek The shade

He speaks of war, as if it is not etched into every bone that makes up the beroya, as if their blood and sinew doesn’t boil with it. Simran sits for a moment, before a grin etches into their face, more of an expression of teeth, a flash of white across a normally stoic mask.

Kynareth, to be a Mandalorian is to court war from the moment you take steps for the first time. Their heart thunders to the tune of Vode An. Their head streams back, and they click a whistle to the skies. Burc’ya, the silent watcher, finally appears to rest at their shoulder, keen eyes watching the beroya and the Saints leader.

This is Burc’ya. A reliable scout. We are prepared for war, and we are prepared to win it The war songs are in their blood, the glory sings in their ears and in their blood, twining star song through their fur. Simran was not born for this, but this is what they were raised for.