The Mandalorian didn't talk much during the trip.

His hands glided across the dashboard like a well-oiled machine, making slight adjustments as needed. The amount of buttons and switches was mind-boggling. How did he remember which ones did what?

His posture was stiff and tense as he sat in the pilot's chair. It was like the word 'relax' wasn't in his vocabulary. His broad shoulders hunched forward, causing the light that shone through the windshield to reflect off the beskar plating. On his right shoulder, you could make out an emblem of some sort molded into the beskar.

"What's that?" You asked aloud, not thinking.

He was silent for a moment. Then, in a low tone, he said, "What?"

You were surprised he even answered you. Excitement caused your heart to flutter as you pushed yourself up in your seat. The child was in its own seat, so you could move around more easily now. "That emblem. What is it?" You pointed at his shoulder.

The Mandalorian briefly glanced at his shoulder, as if he'd forgotten the emblem was there. He seemed hesitant to speak. "It's a signet. I earned it a long time ago."

You nodded. "What does it mean?" You questioned, hoping you weren't being too nosy. The last thing you wanted to do was infiltrate his privacy.

"A signet is determined from the damage done to one's armor. I was given the signet of a mudhorn because my armor suffered extensive damage when I fought one."

Your eyes widened in awe. "Wow... that's amazing!" You exclaimed, though you quickly lowered your voice afterwards. He probably wouldn't appreciate the noise. "What's a mudhorn? Is it some dangerous creature?" Your naturally inquisitive nature was returning.

"Have you never left this planet before?" He asked.

Your pursed your lip, then sighed. "No. I've been stuck here my entire life. I was enslaved when I was very young. It's all I've ever known." You murmured, fiddling with your fingers for a moment.

"I'm sorry." He replied after a brief moment of silence. It was hard to tell if his sympathy was genuine.

"It's alright." You folded your hands in your lap. A small smile slowly crept across your face. "You saved me from that life. I don't know how I'm going to ever repay you. I have nothing of value."

"Don't worry about it." His sentences were still rather straight to the point. They didn't really convey much emotion or personality. There had to be something unique about him, right?

***

"You think you can walk on that?"

You shrugged. The Mandalorian had wrapped a few scraps of cloth around your injured foot after he had landed the ship. It wasn't the best, but it was something. "I'll manage."

"Alright, follow me. I'm going to get you some proper medical care." He said. He tucked the child inside a small satchel that hung by his hip and went down the ramp.

You tilted your head. Why was he bringing the child along? Considering his line of work, the child should stay in the ship. You chose not to question it and just moved on.

Walking wasn't all that hard. You were limping pretty badly to avoid putting weight on that foot, yet somehow you were keeping up with him.

You followed him into a small hut. This village was small, so hopefully they had some sort of doctor to patch you up. You nearly ran into him when he abruptly stopped, a small squeak of surprise escaping you. The child cooed softly in amusement from the satchel, its innocent eyes peering over the lip of the fabric. You huffed and shot it a slight look.

"How can I help you, sir?" A middle-aged man asked as he entered the room. He bore a scruffy beard and had small braids woven into his long, black hair. His clothes were mainly comprised of what looked to be seal fur and leather, typical attire for a settlement such as this one.

"Do you know anyone who can provide medical care? It's urgent." The Mandalorian replied, leaning on one foot to cock out his hip a bit.

The villager glanced over The Mandalorian's shoulder at you. His eyes scanned your battered frame until he eventually noticed the makeshift bandage around your foot. "We have a doctor that lives just a few huts down. His name is Jarren Wykes. Tell him that Blaide sent you."

The Mandalorian nodded. "Thank you." He then turned around and jutted his head towards the door. "Let's go."

You blinked once, then realized he wanted you to go first. You stifled a chuckle of embarrassment and meekly shuffled towards the door. He said nothing as he followed behind you, his footsteps heavy against the wooden floor.

When you stepped outside, you noticed the major temperature difference. It was warm in the hut. Out here, however, it was frigid. You could feel the cold biting at your nose and cheeks, your fingers and toes as well. You brought your arms closer to your chest and tried to conserve heat as you limped. You wanted to go back inside.

"After the doctor patches you up, I'm going to get you some proper clothes." You heard The Mandalorian say behind you.

That only made you feel more self-conscious about what you looked like to him. You were never much to look at. That's what you had always believed. "T-Thank you, you are very kind.." You managed to say, your chattering teeth making it hard to speak.

He did not reply, the crunch of snow under his boots filling the void instead.