[ Surprised, Cassian looks down at the offered food; then gives a small laugh before he pops the jerky in his mouth and then sinks back down beneath the edge of the rise, safely out-of-view from the Venatori. The dew in the grass is damp on his clothes, seeping into his trousers, but he doesn’t seem to mind the discomfort as he chews, ruminative. ]

You’re never finding out my nameday, [ said easily. In truth, Cassian doesn’t even know his exact date of birth either. ]

But I meant our work here. Each message is another brick in the wall of the rebellion. Small pieces in the whole. Hopefully it makes a difference.

[ Some days he was certain of it, with the fervid fire of almost fanaticism, his devotion to the cause. Other days, he woke up and wasn’t so sure. The years went on and on and nothing changed. ]