It had been, at first. Vast and frightening and silent. But in the face of the rest of it, of being fourteen years old and fresh out of a war, being hunted by his friends while the closest to a family that he'd ever known was cut down in vast swathes clear across the galaxy, vast and silent had been a strange comfort. He could still remember all too well the way it had felt when Master Billaba had been killed as he ran, Sammo and Tai and the rest of the younglings, the whole order being snuffed out while all he could do was hide, and stay awake, and try to survive.

The quiet had been terrifying. But if everything was quiet, nothing in particular was. Especially not the things that hurt the most.

But those were thoughts for another time. In this particular moment, Caleb was still smiling, still offering his greetings and his curiosity to the eopies, to Rooh in particular. There was something about that stubbornness that appealed to him, that was familiar to him, and he sent her a faint wave of amusement and approval, a bit of a glimpse of his own stubbornness and curiosity, which had exasperated the Masters so much - and caught Depa's attention - back home.