HISTORY WON'T CARE AT ALL.

the more paranoid part of her imagines taking his hand only to be pulled toward unhinging jaws,  but that feels stupid as the distance closes and she can see just how small he is.  she takes the hand gently,  hers so much larger that she envelops his,  the feel of stubby fingers on her palm oddly comforting.

so many questions, so little time to ponder them! grogu watches her shuffle through her bag, considering each answer in order of priority. at the offer of water, he perks up, drawing closer to wrap tiny, clawed hands around the offered can. it's almost half his size, but he brings it to his lips, nevertheless. he slurps down the water, dribbles running down his chin and onto the thick collar of his robe. when he's had his fill, he hands the can back to his new friend with a quiet belch.

Well, if anything could tug at her heartstrings, it was that. "You wanna be picked up? C'mhere," she carefully moved her arms around him and pulled him up as if it were a baby, and hugged him - or her, honestly, she couldn't tell - to herself, "You are so cute..." She almost had tears in her eyes simply because he was so cute, which was quite a new feeling. "Are you all alone? I wouldn't want to be taking you away from your family... Can you understand me? Can you... nod or shake your head?" He was wearing clothes, or at least an indument wrapped around him, and had clearly asked to be picked up, so maybe they could at least communicate with yes and no's.

he relaxes into her arms almost immediately, nodding happily in response to her question about understanding. grogu knows the human language quite well, by now. at the mention of a name, his ears twitch. he holds up his arm, showing her a small, plastic bracelet swinging from his wrist.

the roads across the states had shown her a lot.  from the capital to new vegas,  new vegas to the commonwealth  -  at this point you'd think there's nothing left that could surprise her.  the noise he makes is foreign but his size and small,  stumbly footsteps have her mistaking him as a molerat at first,  hand reaching for her pistol before she gets a proper look.

at her yelp, he skitters backwards a few paces, little feet kicking up dust as he tries to stop his forward trajectory. he eyes the woman with some trepidation. he doesn't miss the way she goes for the gun at her hip. violence isn't new to grogu, just unwelcome.

Terra has been out for a while now, getting used to life on the surface almost all on her own; it seems almost as if everyone she meets wants to teach her to be meaner and harder, and so she keeps wandering by herself, hoping to never see Kefka or the Enclave again.

oh, he likes this one. grogu slides to an ungraceful halt at the woman's feet, blinking up at her. even bent down, closer to his level, she towers over him. everyone towers over him. it does not make for much fun, always having to put his faith in those so capable of bringing him harm, but he must persist. he needs to stay alive and very far away from his captors.

his robes drag the dusty ground as he toddles along, his feet leaving little prints in the dirt behind him. over the last few days, the wasteland has proven inhospitable to grogu, and, though he does not miss his captors and their cold, steel bunker, he can't help but long for the regular meals they provided. everything out here proves much too large for him to catch on his own, much less eat without assistance.