Satellite

In which Feldspar reflects, adjusts to life back on Timber Hearth, steps up to the plate, and makes peace with everything that is, and was, and will be.

This is a story about family, mending bonds, and learning to live in the moment.

Post-Time Loop, 'Everyone Lives' AU.

A Sequel to 'MECO', 'Refraction', and 'Ratio'.

Notes:

This fic is meant to be a sequel to Ratio, MECO, and Refraction.

It's Feldspar-centric, and will start with covering the events up until the ending scene of Ratio from Felds' perspective.
IOW I finally take the deep dive into Feldspar's mind.

There is a lot of context here that has its origins in my other Founders fics (the 'Postcards' series (Debris, Haze, Passage, and Everything), 'MECO', 'Refraction,' and even 'Feldspar' (WIP) - If you haven't read those, a lot of the context might be lost, but not to the point that you won't be able to understand the story (I hope).

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Summary:

Feldspar reminisces about their youth, questions their life choices, and maybe - just maybe- grows up a little.

Notes:

Apogee:

Noun: The point in the orbit of a satellite at which it is furthest from the (H)earth...

Chapter Text

<<To Ratio

<<To MECO

<<To Refraction

---

"I want details."

Feldspar watched the flush grow on Gossan's cheek with a smile.

"Go jump a geyser," their friend said playfully and gave them a (too gentle) shove.

Gossan had always gotten flustered so easily.

It was good to see that some things hadn't changed.

Because everything else that had changed was almost too much to bear.

How long had it been now? A couple of weeks, probably. Feldspar hadn't gotten back into the habit of time keeping yet.

Nor had they gotten into the habit of not freezing every time they heard a sound of a particularly low frequency... or not watching the distance for subtle signs of movement...

They constantly had to remind themself that they were safe here. That there was nothing sinister lurking in the morning mist. That they could eat a meal without worrying that it might be their last. That they weren't alone anymore.

At night that last bit was especially hard to drill down into their brain.

Feldspar tried hard to listen to Gossan as they spoke about their plans for that day, tried to pay enough attention that they could answer questions when they came so they didn't cause their friend any needless concern. It wasn't easy.

"-will most likely take a couple of weeks, what with how badly corroded the landing gear is. But Slate reckons they can have StormRider back in flying order within a month, give or take, especially since Esker's back on planet and Mica can handle the electronics on their own. They might delay it just for the sake of teaching Gabbro a lesson, though," Gossan ended off with a grin.

Feldspar grinned back, mostly because that's what they always did, but also because they felt proud at the bit about Mica, "Ah, they can't be too hard on 'em. 's not Gabby's fault those cyclones have a vendetta against anything that isn't below the water's surface."

"Tell that to Slate. You should have seen how livid they were when Reg and Chert towed it back. I don't think I've ever seen them use so many hand gestures in one sentence," Gossan laughed.

Feldspar laughed too, because it would look odd if they didn't.

This was also new, seeing Gossan talk about Slate with anything other than a frown. When they'd left Timber Hearth, those two couldn't even stand to be in the same twenty meter radius of each other. This change was good. Brilliant, even, all things considered. But also...

There was something just below their ribcage that twinged more than just a little...

They'd pretended it wasn't there. They were good at that.

Just like they were good at pretending that the scars on Gossan's face didn't shock them every time they saw them... and that seeing the slight limp in Slate's gait didn't make them want to cringe...that looking at Mica wasn't one of the hardest things they'd ever forced themself to do.

Gossan didn't stay for much longer. They left Feldspar with a gentle hug and a reminder to finish as much of their food as they could stomach, because they needed it if they wanted to get well enough to fly again anytime soon.

Feldspar responded by giving their friend a hard squeeze and telling them to stop worrying.

Then it was quiet again.

Feldspar felt their chest start to tighten up. So they walked over to the door and gazed outside.

...

At the ramshackle wooden homes, rusty old water tanks, and makeshift solar panels.

At the dirt paths and unkept grass.

At the orange and yellow flowers that grew on edible weeds.

At the tower of water that spewed from a geyser.

At the pine trees.

At the blue sky.

At the sun.

Once upon a time, only a few months ago, they'd been all too ready to leave all of this behind.

They took a deep breath, and mentally categorized all the scents that were so very familiar. Pine sap. Wood varnish. Smoke. Dirt.

They listened.

To the rushing sounds of the waterfall.

The chirp of crickets.

The whistling of wind through pine needles.

An instrument being tuned in the distance.

The laughter and chatter of hatchlings.

...

Yeah, they were really home.

How 'bout that?

[They'd really done it this time.

There were a few points in Feldspar's thirty-two years of life where they'd been forced to admit that they didn't always have the brightest ideas.

Like that time they tried to eat straight pinenut butter to prove that having an allergy was all about one's mindset.

Or that time they'd convinced Slate to throw them into the river from the top of the waterfall.

Or that time they'd raided the food store and coerced Hornfels into helping them finish 3 cans of marshmallows in one sitting to hide the evidence.

But the consequences of those decisions had been short lived, and they'd had a good laugh and a story to tell afterwards.

This time, there'd be no laughs.

There wouldn't even be a story to tell.

Because there wouldn't be an audience. Not here.

Unless you counted the anglerfish. Or the centipedes.

Feldspar lifted a hand to their aching, be-helmeted head. They could smell blood inside their visor. Even more telling of their injuries was the fact that they couldn't see out of their left primary eye.

Oh yeah.

They'd really gone and done it this time.

They closed their eyes for a moment. At least, it was supposed to be a moment. They may have passed out.

When they came to, they felt groggy. So they sat there a while longer, trying to align their thoughts. They needed to think clearly. They needed to figure out how to survive.

But their thoughts seemed determined to go down an entirely different path...]

If you asked Feldspar to explain their reasons for their oftentimes scale-brained, reckless behaviour, you'd get one of two replies.

If you were anyone other than Slate or Gabbro, you'd get a loud laugh, a slap on the shoulder (or the back, or the behind - just depended on how tall you were compared to Feldspar), and some inspiring words about 'seizing the moment', and 'throwing caution to the wind', and 'living life to the full', and that 'fear was something you grabbed by the tail because what was the point of being alive in their momentous blip in the history of the universe if you weren't going to put everything you had into exploring all the wonder that was out there?'

If you were Slate or Gabbro, you might get something closer to the truth:

Which was more along the lines of: they'd never felt like they belonged on Timber Hearth...

Life hadn't gone the way it was supposed to for Feldspar.

In fact, according to most, being alive hadn't been something Feldspar should even be able to boast about.

They'd been sickly from the day they'd hatched. Some of Feldspar's oldest memories were of watching their caretaker cry. Of staring at the same pictures on the ceiling above their bed for hours. Of gazing longingly out of the window of Gneiss' cabin. Of learning musical chords before they could even speak properly. Of listening to Gneiss tune instruments.

Of wandering what death would be like when it finally came.

Did it hurt?

Was it scary?

Was it lonely?

And that was all before they'd even turned seven.

'You're sick, Pebble.'

'You can play outside when you get better.'

'Please don't fight me, Feldspar. This is for your own good.'

'Please don't stop fighting...'

They'd lost count of how many times they'd almost died of pneumonia by the time they were ten.

...

And then there was that time when even Gneiss thought they wouldn't make it. When they'd given up.

'Its ok, pebble.'

'You can let go now...'

I'm so sorry, Feldspar...'

But Feldspar never gave up.

Because they'd tasted what it was like to be alive, really alive, and they hadn't had enough of it yet.

One of their fondest memories was one that most hatchlings took for granted:

That of running through the woods with their friends.

They didn't have many friends, because Feldspar wasn't allowed to play with the other hatchlings. Because they might get sick.

But that morning, Tektite had walked into Gneiss' cabin with a determined look on their face. Feldspar had always been awed by Tektite ever since they could remember. The miner was tall and strong and brave, and even Gneiss smiled when they were around.

Feldspar liked seeing Gneiss smile.

They'd spoken hushedly at the table while Feldspar drew more pictures to paste on their bedside wall. Felds had gotten good at pretending they couldn't hear what the adults were saying. But they did hear (if adults really didn't want them to listen, then they shouldn't try so hard to hide what they were saying). There were words like 'too much', and 'time to step back,' and 'have you looked at yourself in the mirror,' and 'you need to get some rest', and 'what if they get sick,' and 'we'll deal with that together if it happens,' and 'I'm so scared', and 'I know' and 'I love you'.

Then Tektite had knelt down beside them, given them a wide smile that made all of Feldspar's tiny four-walled world seem brighter, and said 'we're going for a walk in the woods, beastie.'

And Feldspar had grinned back, and shot up, and almost run out the door in their night clothes before Gneiss caught them and bundled them up. They didn't even wave goodbye to Gneiss when they left the cabin, clinging to Tektite's knee excitedly.

When they saw Slate and Gossan sitting on the veranda, they'd almost wet themself in delight.

These were their friends. They'd never played together, but they'd spent many days visiting through the window.

And Gossan had grabbed their hand, and the four of them had dashed off into the outdoors, and Feldspar had never felt happier in their entire five years of life.

Even through their shaky steps and frequent coughs, Feldspar had revelled in the feeling and sound of grass under their feet, the smell of pine trees and soil, the sensation of rough edges of pine cones on their palms and fingers, the taste of air that wasn't stale.

They were sure they'd laughed the entire time. They'd played tag for the first time, and had done all the chasing even though it wasn't their turn because they just couldn't get enough of running.

And when Tektite said it was getting dark, which meant it was getting cold, and that it was time to head home, Feldspar had thrown the biggest tantrum they could muster so that Gossan and Slate stood off to one side awkwardly and Tektite ended up grabbing them around the waist and lugging them home like a tiny wood log.

But all while Gneiss bathed them and later handed them a bowl of stew for supper (watching them carefully until they finished it), Feldspar had gushed about their day. And Gneiss had even smiled, and near the fireplace Tektite had given the artisan a gentle look, and everything was warm...

Then Feldspar got sick again.

And Gneiss was looking worried.

And Tektite looked really sad.

And as they struggled to breathe, and felt consciousness come and go, Feldspar thought about death again.

Did it hurt? Couldn't hurt more than this, right? So shouldn't be too bad.

Was it scary? Feldspar was scared right now. They'd been scared like this before. So, nothing new then.

Was it lonely?

...

Feldspar knew loneliness well. So...

They heard the stocatto wheezing of their own breath as their lungs fought for air.

Next to their bed, Gneiss was crying. Tektite sat beside them with an arm around their trembling shoulders.

Sometimes, Feldspar felt like they wanted to cry too. But they knew it would make Gneiss sadder.

'... You can let go, pebble.' Gneiss had sobbed.

...

NO!

Feldspar didn't want to let go.

There was still so much to see, so much to hear. To smell, to taste.

To feel.

Somehow, Feldspar recovered. But they were stuck in bed for a good couple of weeks again. At least Gossan and Slate came to visit. Through the window...

It was then that Feldspar started to feel things they'd never felt before, and didn't figure out how to identify until quite a few years later.

They felt longing.

Because everything they'd ever wanted was outside of Gneiss' cabin.

They felt resentment.

Because Gneiss wouldn't let them leave.

They felt trapped.

Because their stupid body kept getting sick.

This cabin was their cage. This body was their prison. Now freedom was like a marshmallow on the end of a very long stick, and their tiny arms were too short to grab it.

And Feldspar was all too aware of the fact that they were the only hatchling above the age of three who was still in the care of an adult. All the others were at the hatchling cabin.

They got to go run in the woods.

They got to go swim in the river.

They got to go camping with Tektite.

They got to play with their friends.

Not Feldspar.

It was around then that they'd started to act out. They argued and begged and haggled and nagged Gneiss day-in and day-out to be let outside, to be allowed to live with their cohort.

And, well, that had gotten them a couple of spankings and a few nights of no marshmallows when they got really disrespectful about it. But Feldspar was nothing if not stubborn (how else would they even be here otherwise?)

Eventually, when their immune system got stronger and they got sick less often, they were allowed to go outside. And it was the best thing ever-

Until the end of every day when they had to say goodbye to Gossan, Slate, and Hornfels because it was time for Feldspar to return to Gneiss' cabin while the others got to go back to the hatchling cabin together.

They did a lot of sulking back then. Then they'd gotten clever and started using words like 'unfair', and 'confined' and 'robbed of their hatchlinghood' in their arguments.

[Feldspar chuckled to themself.They sure gave Gneiss a helluva hard time. They wished they could apologize for it...]

Finally, after years, they'd managed to break Gneiss down enough for their caretaker to give in (on one condition).

Feldspar had been so ecstatic that they almost cried, and they hugged Gneiss hard, and thanked them endlessly, and dashed out the door without another word to go tell their friends to get a bed ready for them ASAP (even though they had to wait three full seasons before they could actually move in.)

And, well, they didn't exactly not get sick during that time. But they got pretty good at hiding it when they did catch a cold, or run a fever, or when they struggled to keep their food down in the mornings.

It was then that Feldspar realized that sometimes you had to put on an act to get what you want. And once you had something in your sights, you let nothing and no one get in your way of obtaining it.

Because there was no way they were going to let this new freedom get taken away from them.

Moving into the hatchling cabin had been like a dream come true for Feldspar. They'd been welcomed enthusiastically. They got to share a bunk with Slate. They got to listen to Gossan tell bedtime stories to the younger hatchlings. They got to play 'big sibling' to Chert, Hornfels, Porphy, Gabbro, Marl, and Riebeck.

It was great!

For the first few days...

But then reality set in.

They didn't fit in here.

The other hatchlings had all bonded with each other already. And while they enjoyed being around Feldspar, they always gravitated away after not too long.

Even Gossan and Slate were closer to each other than either of them were to Feldspar.

And although, in hindsight, that all made sense and was just how things were (given the timing of their entry into the family), at the time, Feldspar had been more than a little devastated.

They didn't let it show. In fact, they were just that much more determined than ever to prove themself.

...

But after a few years, they eventually came to terms with it.

The fact that, even surrounded by their friends, they were still alone.

[Feldspar came back to themself when they heard an unfamiliar sound. They felt adrenaline course through their arms and legs, and quickly got up, almost blacking out as the blood drained from their head.

They looked around carefully for signs of those blasted fish. They saw none, but that didn't put them at ease in the slightest.]

Feldspar got used to the feeling of not belonging eventually, and they decided to make the most of the situation.

And as long as they didn't think too much, they had fun. They enjoyed life now. They could just focus on the good parts. The thrills, the adventures, the games, the arguments, the banter, the pranks. Feldspar could live for those.

They just needed to not think. If they didn't think, then they didn't feel.

Very quickly, they came to view Gossan and Slate as their best friends, although they didn't expect it to be mutual. They were a third wheel in their friendship, they knew that. But they wouldn't let that fact interfere with their fun.

And Slate was a lot of fun. Unlike Gossan, the taller teen was ready to try almost any of Feldspar's stupid ideas, or go adventuring where they knew they technically weren't allowed. They got each other into trouble often.

And then Gossan would come along. They were the sensible one, always reminding Slate that since the sixteen-year-old was the oldest, they were responsible for keeping them safe, not putting them in danger.

Feldspar remembers Gossan and Slate starting to argue a lot back then.

But Feldspar would always intercept them and diffuse the situation with humor and another bright idea of fun (dumb) ways to spend their time.

And although Gossan could be a bit of a stick in the mud, it was more fun to wrestle with them than with Slate; because with Gossan, Feldspar actually had a chance of winning.

Gossan was also more of a talker. And Feldspar liked to talk. They had years to make up for when it came to talking with others their age.

Once, the older hatchlings got to go on a camping trip with Tektite and Esker, while Rutile stayed and kept an eye on the younger ones.

They'd spent hours scouring the woods for mushrooms and pine cones, then even more hours swimming in the lake. And Chert had gotten so excited that they lost control of their bladder while Slate was still holding them, and Slate had shrieked, and Gossan and Feldspar had laughed themselves sick. Feldspar then told Slate to just dump them in the water, but the older teen had yelled back 'They don't know how to swim yet, dumb ass.'

But they'd spent too long in the water, and breathed in too much of it while rough housing.

They got sick again.

And it was bad.

They cried that time, Feldspar thinks. Because somehow, they weren't as reluctant to cry in front of Slate as they had been with Gneiss.

And Slate had stayed with them, holding them the whole time, even during the ice bath. They remember Slate shivering. Was it from the anxiety of the situation, or the cold? They weren't sure, because they'd been shivering too, only their's was from the fever.

Maybe they'd cried then because they were scared of being taken away from the hatchling cabin. Maybe it was just the fever.

Slate shared a bed with them for weeks after that because the whole thing had spooked them so much.

Either way, they recovered.

And things were okay. They didn't have to leave. Not that time, or the times after (which were never quite as bad, but Slate always slept right next to them on those occasions too, just in case).

In fact, their older friend had seemed to think they needed to keep an even closer eye on them after that. And while Feldspar didn't mind, they also couldn't help noticing that something about Gossan changed then...

It was a few years before Feldspar realized why.

It all made sense that evening when they found Gossan and Slate washing up after a day in the mines...

Slate had been kneeling in front of Gossan and holding the smaller teen's face gently in their hands. And they were leaning close.

And Gossan had stared back at the older teen with flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

And Feldspar had felt something twinge in their chest when they saw them like that.

But then Chert had been a twerp and yelled out 'Gossan and Slate are kissing!'

Then Feldspar had grinned and laughed, and didn't think or feel, and ran as Slate chased them in their undershorts.

They'd been fourteen when they realized they had a crush on their best friend. It had been unsettling.

But Feldspar had gotten so good at hiding things. What was one more item to add to the list?

[They had to return to their ship to use the first aid kit, risking electric shock all the while. Then they grabbed what supplies they could and made a temporary shelter for themself beside the giant red jellyfish.

How that thing had gotten here was beyond Feldspar.

They sure had scared the crap out of the pilot when they first happened upon them in Giant's Deep's waters. Getting under that electric field while being shielded by one had been a complete accident. They'd been certain the gelatinous creature had been about to ingest them, ship and all.

They wouldn't tell anyone that little detail, though...

Heh. Not like they could now, anyways.

The radio didn't work...]

Feldspar got into the habit of watching Gossan and Slate secretly. Not, like, peeping, just... observing.

Because it was fascinating. They'd seen the way Gneiss and Tektite looked at each other. They had these special smiles that they didn't give to anyone else.

They saw Slate starting to smile at Gossan like that too. And sometimes, when they weren't being moody, Gossan would smile back at Slate the same way.

Feldspar observed, but they didn't think about it. Didn't feel.

It helped keep them distracted when Tektite started taking them out on patrols when they turned sixteen. And they really enjoyed those. They loved camping under the stars. They loved watching the sunsets outside the village crater with their mentor at their side. Loved learning about their home planet. Loved exploring it's lesser-known nooks and crannies.

Sometimes Spinel would join too, and Feldspar drank in the exciting tales the older two shared about their adventures in their younger days. Were even surprised to learn thet Rutile had once had a reckless side right up until the day Tektite lost their leg to ghost matter.

Quickly, Feldspar learned the art of story telling too.

Then they happened upon something that changed their life forever.

They remembered it clearly, the first time Tektite took them into the old Nomai mining site. It had been a dangerous trek, but so worth it for what they found there.

They found stars.

And they were everywhere.

Feldspar felt something that, even now, they couldn't accurately describe even if they tried using all of the poetic language they could muster. Because it wouldn't do the experience justice

Simply put, the universe was hugging their soul and telling them, 'It's okay. No matter what happens from here, just be...'

And all their fears and doubts and frustrations had just... Dissolved.

And it was beautiful, and it was profound- so much so that it hurt. And Feldspar knew that they would never, ever stop thinking about it.

Later, when they got the idea into their head that maybe they could get closer to the real stars by means of a geyser and a barrel, they felt that feeling again, only even more so because.

This wasn't a cave.

And these stars weren't just sparkly rocks in the ground.

It was vast.

It was unfathomable.

It was Space.

And for those few seconds floating weightless in the fringes of Timber Hearth's atmosphere, they felt the universe hug their soul again and whisper warmly 'welcome home'.

For that brief second, they'd escaped their prison.

They'd felt free.

And, yeah, it was over in a blink, and yeah, they could have died-

But it was worth it for how alive they had felt. And they yearned with all their being to feel it again.

Tektite called that feeling 'Wanderlust'.

They also said it was a curse.

Oho, they were right about that.

[They'd eventually moved from their camp at the jellyfish carcass, especially because they couldn't stand the sight of the thing after they'd tried eating it and couldn't stop throwing up for 5 hours afterwards.

Never trying that again.

Feldspar had tried eating a bunch of weird things in their lifetime to test their proverbial intestinal metal.

This had topped all those like a lit stick of dynamite.

They were forced to admit defeat on that one.

Feldspar had been royally jellyfished.]

They became obsessed with the idea of space travel.

It wasn't an entirely novel concept in Hearthian society, nerdy Hornfels had pointed out when Feldspar brought the idea up (thinking it was totally original and feeling proud of it for all of 4 seconds). There were books detailing theories about it. After all, with the amount of Hearthians that had been unintentionally launched into orbit, space flight had been a subject of potential interest for a good couple of decades.

Feldspar was determined to pursue it, even if it killed them.

And Slate agreed to help them figure it out.

With some begging, so did Gossan.

Looking back on it, they're not sure why their two best friends had been so ready to agree to their whims.

They hated to think that it was for the same reason they got away with so much crap with the other villagers (except Rutile).

They weren't have supposed to have lived this long.

And each day Feldspar continued to defy death was like a surprise gift.

Feldspar resented that. It was like everyone expected them to drop dead any second.

Of course, no one said it in as many words. But they'd heard enough hushed conversations between Gneiss and the other adults to know...

'Don't get too attached... Lost cause... doesn't stand a chance... Too weak...before they come of age.'

They'd all expected Feldspar to die years ago. So they'd emotionally cut them off (even if they didn't realize it).

But Feldspar was still here! They were alive!

And yet.

When they spoke with the others...

They never looked Feldspar in the eye. They always looked just off to the side, or stared blankly through them.

As if Feldspar was a ghost.

And they'd tried for a long time to prove their existence despite it. They'd been loud and boisterous and even charismatic (if they did say so themself). But it didn't change things.

They didn't think about it anymore. So they stopped feeling anything about it too. Someday soon, they'd show everyone...

But Goss and Slate weren't like that.

Right?

They were particularly upset when it came time for Gossan and Slate's sapwine ceremonies. Because that meant they'd be leaving the hatchling cabin.

Sure, Feldspar loved their other cabin mates, and they'd gotten pretty good at interacting with them. They loved telling their own stories of adventures, of made-up tales of ghosts and monsters and mysteries. Adored watching the younger hatchling's faces as they flitted between awe and wonder and delight. They'd grown particularly attached to a few as well.

Hornfels was a nerd (but Feldspar loved them nonetheless). More than Feldspar, they were the one who always kept track of who was where in the hatchling cabin.

Riebeck was sweet and timid. Super clumsy, but quick to learn new things and always eager to lend a hand. They were quite attached to Hal for some reason.

Chert was a possessive smart mouth, but they were always on top of their chores. They were competitive too, which meant they and Feldspar had shared a good sibling rivalry of sorts (especially when it came to who knew more facts about space).

Porphy was helpful, calm, and polite. They had a knack with the younger hatchlings, which was great because there was only so long Feldspar could stand to argue with Marl about putting their boots on the correct feet before they gave up.

And Gabbro was... well, they'd started just saying that 'Gabbro was Gabbro', because that's just how special they were, and there really wasn't a good combination of words to describe their personality in a single sentence.

'Thoughtful', maybe? Or was it more like...spacey? They liked to play on their own, and often spoke in sign from a distance rather than face to face. And they sure loved napping.

Then there was Marl and Hal, who were both really small and didn't talk much yet.

But Slate and Gossan were their besties!

Not only that, but...

Feldspar could feel things changing, and it worried them.

They'd snuck out of the cabin after making sure the hatchlings were asleep so they could watch Gossan's ceremony. It was pretty dull (although they'd felt awfully happy when Slate spotted them hiding in the trees for some reason and didn't snitch on them.)

Then they'd snuck back just before their friends had walked in (except, Slate was carrying Gossan).

They watched from their bunk, holding back their chuckles at Gossan's drunken antics, and we're just about to whisper something over at them when -

Slate had leaned over Gossan and -

Well, Feldspar didn't see what happened exactly, because they hid their face under the blanket and turned away.

But only a few seconds later they heard Slate's heavy footsteps on the wooden floors, then felt Slate's presence behind them and were given a flick on the ear.

When Feldspar turned toward their friend, Slate had a strained look on their face...

Feldspar didn't think about the twinge in their chest.

They'd gone to sleep a little while after reminding Slate about their promise to help Feldspar get to space.

They didn't wonder about whether Slate had kissed Gossan that night as they drifted off

[It sure was ironic- using the husk of a creature that would have otherwise eaten you as an appetizer for a campsite.

They'd planted their emergency tree seeds as a priority, because...

There was no radio signal getting in or out...

And they'd told no one they were heading for Dark Bramble.]

The last two years of Feldspar's hatchlinghood felt like being stuck. They were old enough to work as fire watch and errand runner for the village, but not old enough to be considered an adult?!

Which meant they were still getting told what they could and couldn't do?!

They'd had a really big fight with Gneiss and Rutile when the two found out that Slate was working on designing a rocket. Rutile tried to convince them that their thrill-chasing had gone far enough, that there was nothing for them outside of the life-sustaining planet they lived on, that they were going to give the other hatchlings bad ideas, especially because they'd already exerted a "distasteful" influence on some of them.

Feldspar hadn't cared much. They'd heard similar things from Rutile before.

But then Gneiss had pulled the 'you're still just a hatchling' card on them.

Feldspar felt betrayed. They'd almost flown into a rage (but didn't, because Riebeck would have an anxiety attack if they sensed tension).

So instead, they took it all on the chin quietly.

Then they schemed.

No one was going to take their dream away.

Their scheme had had to wait, unfortunately. Because they got sick again.

It had been a while. They'd been doing really well, up until then. But the stress of that argument with Rutile and Gneiss had set their immune system on edge, and now it was attacking itself.

That fact made them more angry.

The fever had made them really nauseous. But even after the fever subsided, the nausea didn't.

They threw up. And when they stopped throwing up because their stomach was empty, they'd dry heaved for a while.

They weren't sure how long that went on. But when they'd exited the restroom, they found Gabbro sitting against the wall with their knees bent to their chest and their fists clenched on the floor at their sides.

Feldspar had felt a rush of worry at the sight.

They were the oldest back then. The other hatchlings were their responsibility (that being said, most would agree that both Hornfels and Chert were more 'the responsible big sibling' type than Feldspar was).

"What gives, Gabby?" they'd asked gently, because Gabbro didn't like it when they used their 'everyone else' voice.

The hatchling (who had been ten at the time) had looked up at them from underneath their beanie. They hadn't grown into their ears yet, which were large and drooped toward their shoulders, and their blue eyes were wide and unfocused.

Oh stars, it was one of those episodes.

Feldspar sat down at the hatchling's side.

Gabbro hadn't been much of a talker back then. Not because they didn't have a lot to say, but because they'd been conditioned to think that what they had to say wasn't relevant. Because Gabbro thought differently to the others. They went off on tangents without context, and the things they found interesting weren't the same as their peers. And to the others, different was weird. And weird made them uncomfortable.

Feldspar hated that. It was so unfair.

"Hey, it's me, buddy. You know you can say what you want to ol' Feldsy," they'd said gently, fighting down the returning nausea with all their might.

Gabbro hadn't looked at them for a while. Their fists were still clenched at their sides. So Feldspar had slid an arm behind their back and pulled the hatchling into their lap.

With Gabbro settled against their chest, Feldspar had taken their small hands into theirs and started gently coaxing their clenched fingers loose.

"You didn't scratch, right? You promised?"

Gabbro shook their head.

Feldspar was glad. They couldn't bear to see more bloody marks on the hatchling's face.

Gabbro had struggled with big feelings. So had Chert and Riebeck, actually. But Gabbro especially. When they felt like they weren't being heard, when their words fell flat and their existence essentially denied, they tended to wonder off, find a quiet, shady corner and tear at the source of their emotional turmoil: themself.

The first time Feldspar had seen this, they'd almost cried. Because they understood Gabbro's pain. They got Gabbro's loneliness. They knew what it was like to not fit in.The only thing that was different about them was that Feldspar had figured out how to turn their feelings off.

Somehow, even then, they knew that wasn't the healthiest way to deal with things, and they didn't want Gabbro doing the same.

So they'd taken the overwhelming mixture of feelings that was made up of varying parts of fear and doubt and invalidation and self-loathing, and given it a name.

They called it 'the grumbling void'.

Then they'd taught Gabbro a couple of tricks to 'calm the void' whenever it's grumbling got too loud and made them want to hurt themself.

It was something Gneiss had taught them when they were little and afraid of going to sleep one night because they didn't know if they'd wake up again. The artisan called it 'grounding'.

Feldspar started humming. It was a slow tune made up of low, lazy tones. It reverberated well.

They'd continued to hum until Gabbro started to relax, until the hatchling started humming with them.

The combination of deep slow breaths and the vibrations created by the humming had a calming effect. It was the only way Feldspar had managed to get Gabbro out of one of their sensory-overload episodes.

And, of course, it was music. Music had always been one of Feldspar's favourite ways to communicate...

[There was no telling how long a search and rescue operation would take.

They'd asked Slate to stall for them. And even if no one tried to come get them (considering the circumstances under which they'd left) the other astronauts would systematically search the other planets to exhaustion before they even considered Dark Bramble.

Even then, none of the other pilots were crazy enough to attempt it...

Feldspar took their harmonica out of the lapel pocket on their flight vest and looked at it sullenly.

It was probably too early to try that just yet...]

"Are you gonna die?"

Feldspar had paused in confusion, and tried not to over react at that seemingly random question (because while Gabbro sometimes came across as random, their thoughts were always relevant to the situation in one way or another).

"Why d'ya ask?"

Gabbro had rocked their head from side to side self-soothingly, "Because you're really sick."

Feldspar had nodded, although the hatchling wouldn't have seen it. They'd given it some thought before answering. Gabbro was an observer, just like them. They'd probably heard some of the elders talking...

"We'll all die someday," they'd said eventually.

They'd felt Gabbro tense then, so they'd rubbed their thumbs over their fingers firmly.

"But it's scary, you know?" Gabbro had whispered.

Feldspar hummed again in thought. Then they'd gently wrapped both arms around the hatchling and sighed.

"Yeah, a little. But," they'd started, making it up as they went, "that's just because we don't know what happens after, right?"

Gabbro had nodded.

Feldspar smiled crookedly. They'd had a lot of time to think about just this subject.

"But just because we don't know, doesn't mean we need to be afraid."

Gabbro had gone silent for a while, before whispering, "But when you're dead you're... gone," then they'd hugged Feldspar's arms and said tearily, "I don't want you to be gone. I'll be lonely."

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere!" Feldspar had replied a little too loudly for Gabbro.

Because they'd felt guilty.

Because, Gabbro needed them here at the hatchling cabin.

But Feldspar was in the biggest hurry to leave. To pursue their dreams...

To abandon their friends...

Always putting themself first...

Which is what they got onto as soon as they had the strength again.

They had a long chat with Spinel (without anyone's knowledge) about how they'd really proven their worth as a fisherfellow these past few years, and surely just because they weren't yet twenty, that shouldn't disqualify them from being counted as an adult, now should it?

And they'd chatted to Tektite while preparing a fire and a meal and insisting that their mentor need not lift a finger, because, see, they were quite capable of taking care of themself, and Tektite themself had said they were a skilled fire watch, didn't they? And such a job required someone who was responsible and alert, and Feldspar was all those things and more, no?

Even Feldspar was surprised it had worked.

They had their Sapwine ceremony at the age of nineteen.

And they'd felt immensely smug about it, even as they'd choked down the liquor and felt their bowels churn, and reeled at the way their vision doubled and their coordination went to pat. But Slate and Gossan were laughing, and the elders were treating them like an adult, so why complain?

They'd gotten properly sick in the bushes that night.

The day they moved out of the hatchling cabin had been bittersweet. Riebeck had cried. The others had piled on them in a group hug. Except Gabbro.

They sat quietly under a tree and waited for Feldspar to notice them. They knew Feldspar would.

The not-quite adult had sat next to them, told them to close their eyes, and handed Gabbro a little gift that they'd specially requested from Gneiss (cheeky bugger that they were, after all the grief they'd caused.)

"When you hear the void grumbling, play our tune, okay?" They'd said gently while rubbing the blue-eyed hatchling's head.

Gabbro had smiled at them in that way that always made their perpetually sad eyes somehow look even sadder.

"Okay."

They'd worried about the hatchling for a while after they moved in with Tuff and Gossan. Thought about their sad blue eyes every night for weeks.

And then they moved on.

[They didn't have a lot of food left now.

That was okay. They were never much of an eater anyways. They'd often struggled to keep food down as a hatchling. It got bad enough that eating just wasn't much of a pleasurable experience for them. More of an inconvenient chore, really.

But even Feldspar knew that you could only go so long without food.

At least they'd memorized those notes Tektite's mentor's mentor had written about critical survival. It was cold enough here, for sure. And they'd had some practice when they tested the theory out back in their training days.

They'd sleep for a few days. And when they woke, they'd still have some rations to draw on.

The trees had also sprouted, which meant a couple of weeks had passed now. Although, Feldspar had no way of telling the time accurately.

There was no celestial light here. No sun. No day-night cycle. And no airflow.

Even travelling through the spheres of this place had been weird. The spaces were bigger inside than the appeared from without. And their scout reported being in multiple places at once...

Feldspar blinked lazily at their surroundings, and almost lifted a hand to their face before they remembered they still had their helmet on.

They'd definitely blinded their left primary eye.

They would have sighed if they didn't feel like it was a waste of oxygen]

Feldspar didn't think about the way things had quite obviously been going a certain direction with Slate and Gossan.

But they had seen how Slate had almost kissed their friend a few evenings prior when they all got drunk at the workshop.

So when Gossan had come home really late one night after they'd been on canning duty with Slate, they'd expected to be able to tease their friend about getting all lovey-wuvvy with the engineer.

They hadn't expected to see Gossan in tears.

The miner refused to tell them what had happened. And Feldspar had found that as hurtful as watching their friend cry in a heap on the floor.

But, a few days later when they confronted Slate about it, the reason became pretty obvious (even though Slate had also refused to tell them exactly what had happened.)

They'd felt conflicted at that. Mostly they were worried.

If Slate and Gossan weren't able to work together anymore, would they still be able to build a ship? Would they still be able to go to Space?

The idea of the answer being 'no' had made them feel like screaming.

But then, as if reading their mind, Slate had reassured them (if you could call their tone reassuring) that the Space Program was going ahead with or without Gossan.

Feldspar had left at that, because they'd been struggling to not let their inner conflict show on their face by that point. They were intruding on a relationship that had been in the making years before they even hatched.

But if they were truly honest, it was mostly because they'd cared more about their prospects of space travel than the fact that their best friends were hurting.

They were so selfish.

[They'd been back to Trailblazer multiple times to attempt to fix it. But even though they had a rudimentary grasp of hardware repairs (Slate refused to let them back in the ship otherwise), they knew nothing about electronics.

The ship's computer was busted. It couldn't even so much as display the Hearth-damned time.

And the radio was still dead. Not that Feldspar had expected it to fix itself, but a pilot can dream...

And as they started a routine of sleeping for days on end, waking for a short while to eat and stretch, then sleeping again, dream they did.

Or was it memories that they'd been watching replay behind their closed eyes?]

Despite the loss of Gossan's help at the workshop, things carried on, and the ship build was well underway. The two years that followed were what Feldspar may have dared to call their 'glory days'.

They really had a blast (heh) testing prototype rocket engines with Slate (right up until something in the village caught alight or exploded and they were under fire from Rutile or others).

They enjoyed their time with Slate in general. They'd missed their older friend after they left the hatchling cabin. Missed the banter, the play fights, ticking them off first thing in the morning and last thing in the evening. Missed their games of tag and one-sided wrestling matches. Missed sharing a bed when Feldspar got sick.

But they got to do a lot of that again during that time leading up to the completion of Trailblazer (minus the tag and sharing a bed).

They'd forgotten about the crush they used to have on the engineer.

That is, right up until it came back with full force.

At first, they didn't know what to do about it. There was still a chance Gossan and Slate would make amends, right?

With that in mind, they'd buried their feelings and held out for months, hoping that would be the case.

But then Slate started giving them those 'special smiles'...

And Feldspar was once again conflicted because...

What did they have to give Slate, really? How much longer would Feldspar even be around?

Those doubts had them continuing to bury their feelings. Even when they felt a very new, very pleasant warmth whenever their friend was close by.

[They'd tried playing their harmonica when the trees got large enough to provide their own oxygen.

They played for hours, until they could almost swear they heard Esker's whistles, Gossan's twin drums, Gabbro's flute, Riebeck's banjo... Slate's guitar...

There really wasn't much else to do besides playing music. Except think.

Feldspar hated thinking. Avoided it like the spring fever. They only thought as far as they needed to so they could get things done.

But with nothing to do, their thoughts turned inward. And that was somewhere they didn't want to go.

They'd been losing that battle since realizing they were stranded, though. They wondered if this was what having 'your life flash before your eyes' was all about.

You're forced to think. Forced to confront all the dumb choices and bad decisions and failures you'd made over the course of your life.

What a cruel way to close one's story...]

There was one of those nights when Slate and Feldspar had laid in the grass on the plains and watched the stars.

The one where Slate asked them about their 'thrill-chasing'.

And Feldspar had felt a bit put out at that description, because they weren't just chasing thrills. They needed to go to Space as badly as they needed to breathe. It was literally the only thing they lived for now.

They'd gotten emotional about it even.

But Slate hadn't understood it, even though they'd tried hard to explain. And that hurt. Because they'd thought that if anyone could understand, it would be Slate.

They're not sure why they expected that. Their best friend had never expressed any desire to traverse space. They were just humoring Feldspar and testing their engineering skills.

Feldspar guessed they'd just really wanted Slate to understand. They'd wanted someone to.

Once again, they managed to ignore their feelings for the engineer for a good while after that..

And then came the day Slate had given them a tour of TrailBlazer's almost-finished cockpit.

Feldspar had been so ecstatic, and grateful, and over the moon that they'd let a stupid comment about kissing Slate slip accidentally.

And had been nearly bowled over when Slate suggested that it wasn't a bad idea.

It had been a bad idea. But that's only because Feldspar found it impossible to bury their feelings for their best friend after that.

They'd kissed Slate. It was awkward and embarrassing, because Feldspar had never kissed before that (they tried their damdest not to let it show, but Slate wasn't fooled much).

But then Slate had kissed them back. Twice. Three times. Four?

And it was awesome. And when Slate stopped, they'd just wanted more, because Feldspar was greedy, and this was a new and exciting and all-encompassing experience they couldn't get enough of. It was almost as intense as floating in zero-G above Timber Hearth, which they hadn't thought anything could compare to...

They'd made a concerted attempt to continue, but Slate hadn't let them.

Feldspar hadn't missed why, even though the engineer tried to hide it and brush it off.

And that had actually left them blushing a bit (more).

Then, as they sat their in the pilot's seat after Slate's hasty retreat, the realization had dawned on them.

It was more than a crush.

They couldn't stop thinking about it. And it filled them with a kind of bubbly, fluttery warmth that made them feel like am idiot.

They couldn't wait to do it again. To kiss Slate.

So when the next opportunity came that day they'd ambushed Slate with a bunch of potential new recruits (hatchlings), they'd jumped on it.

And Slate had kissed them back, and wow! Those were some interesting feelings, is this what they call 'hormones'? they'd wondered.

They'd acted pretty much without thinking then, since they were good at that. They just let their body take the lead.

But Slate hadn't been quite so compliant, which had been annoying (despite the evidence that they'd failed to hide proving that they indeed wanted this just as much as Feldspar).

Hell, Feldspar had even gone out of their way to try and show Slate just how badly they'd wanted it too, but did the engineer even notice?

Noooo. Because Gossan called.

Feldspar thinks that's probably the first time they'd actually felt some bitterness toward the miner, and they'd immediately felt bad for it. So they'd dropped it when Slate kept resisting.

That encounter did not leave their mind that night, however. Nor the following couple of nights afterwards, when they felt incredibly warm and restless and they found themself retracing the spots Slate's hands had been on their body with their own fingers...

And they thought about Slate. About kissing Slate. And... doing other things with Slate...

They'd had to bite their lip a lot.

Feldspar knows now that the correct term for their state of mind back then was, simply put, 'horny'.

But even as those feelings distracted them and made them giddy, they were hit with something else.

They'd developed a fever.

Feldspar was distraught. But they didn't show it. Didn't tell anyone. Didn't let on.

They were supposed to launch in a couple of weeks. They couldn't let getting sick interfere with that.

So they'd gone the extra mile, put on their best performance, charmed their way out of being called out.

Despite it all, they felt their body getting weaker. Felt the fever wracking their muscles with a deep, incessant ache.

Gneiss threw a party for them, and the gesture almost had them on the verge of tears because Feldspar knew they didn't deserve it after all they'd put the artisan, their caretaker, through. So they'd told tales, and laughed, and drank, and they danced around the fire, even though all they'd wanted to do then was curl up in bed and sleep through the fever pain.

And they even got Slate to join them after a little coaxing.

And when their best friend had grabbed them around the waist and spun them around until they were dizzy and breathless from laughter, Feldspar felt their heart fill to bursting point

Then they looked up at the engineer, and it hit them like a ton of lumber:

They'd fallen in love.

Which was probably the worst thing that could have ever happened to them.

Because on top of that ton of lumber came the cartful of rocks that was the fact that they could very well die before the week was up.

How the hell had they all been glossing over that particular detail all this time?

Yeah, sure they'd had that conversation more than once:

"It's dangerous! ...Hasn't been done before! ...The ship could explode! ...You might crash!"

Well, obviously.

But they'd put so much effort in to convincing everyone that they'd be okay, that maybe they'd started to believe it.

Regardless, that had never stopped being the reality: Feldspar might not survive their first launch. That was a fact, one the pilot-to-be had accepted the moment they'd started building Trailblazer.

And yet, they chose now to get romantic?!

Stars above, what bad timing!

And what about Slate? Would getting serious with them now even be fair?

Feldspar didn't think so.

But still....

When they saw Slate looking down at them with another one of those smiles. The kind that Gneiss and Tektite gave each other...

They wanted this. They wanted it almost as much as they wanted to travel the Outer Wilds.

And when had Feldspar ever been slow to pursue something they wanted?

They'd walked (wobbled) with Slate back to the workshop.

Then they'd wrestled their friend to the couch, kissed them, groped them, and made their intentions as clear as Hearthianly possible.

The following couple of hours had been... epic.

Feldspar had discovered a new favourite thrill. Slate had been pretty enthusiastic about it too. Both times.

They'd definitely preferred the 'no-clothes' version...

But they'd only gone so far...

Then morning came...

And Feldspar took it further... All the way, in fact...with some effort... a lot of effort... and more than a little wincing. Because Slate was.... proportionally tall, and Feldspar was... proportionally tiny...

They were persistent though. And despite their concern and offer to stop and try something else, Slate seemed pretty eager to continue too.

And neither of them had lasted long...

Afterwards, Feldspar had tried their best to keep the air light-hearted, because the mixture of fever, headache, and the aftermath of being intimate had made them feel incredibly vulnerable, and they didn't want Slate catching on to that.

So what had they done? They'd opened their big mouth and said something. So. Stupid.

The way Slate looked at them had scared them. And the words their friend didn't say even more so.

Their carefully tuned performance had dropped for a split second from the anxiety that had rushed over them.

Slate wouldn't stop them now, right?

Not Slate..

They'd promised.

[They'd had to use their hatchet to break chunks of ice up for water. They were mildly fascinated/horrified at the idea that the resulting water could be hundreds of thousands years-old, and quite possibly contaminated by some nasty alien bacteria or parasites that might eat them from the inside out.

They found some comfort in their campfire, which burned slow and steady. But watching the flames also transported their mind back to Timber Hearth.

They missed the mountains. Missed the woods. And the rivers, and waterfalls, and the Grove, and Youngbark Crater, and the sunsets, and the plains and...

They missed...]

Slate looked at them with suspicion from that morning onward. And while they were absolutely right to, it set Feldspar on edge. So they'd rushed to leave as quickly as possible without making it obvious (but Slate had seen through them just enough then that it probably hadn't fooled anyone except Feldspar themself).

Not to mention, they were feeling more ill by the day. So they threw everything they had into not letting it show.

Which made Slate even more suspicious. Which set Feldspar even more on edge. So over the next few days leading up to launch day, when they didn't succeed in distracting their friend from their condition with words alone, they used sex instead. And it worked. Kind of.

Except, Slate would always turn the tables on them.

When they... did it, the engineer often tried to get Feldspar to look them in the eyes. But Feldspar couldn't. Because when they had, just once, when Slate took their face in both hands and panted 'Look at me, Felds' against their lips, they'd been powerless to resist, and...

The look in Slate's eyes had made their heart ache, and it almost, almost made them reconsider everything...

They couldn't let that happen. Couldn't be swayed by these thoughts. Couldn't change their priorities now.

So instead, they'd buried their face against Slate's neck, or shoulder, or chest, and clung, and screwed their eyes shut to avoid locking gazes whenever they were intimate...

And they knew it upset their best friend, could tell by the look on their face afterwards when they dared to glance at them out of the corner of their eyes.

And Slate kept trying. Sometimes they were so terribly gentle that it made Feldspar want to run and hide because of the way it tugged at their heart. Sometimes they were annoyed, angry even, at Feldspar's obvious attempts to hide things. And that made their affections rougher, so that at one point it had been so intense that Feldspar had lost control over the volume of their voice, and their eyes had watered profusely from the sensations and the heat...

And afterwards Slate had kissed their wrists tenderly, and held them close, and apologized like they thought they'd hurt them (they hadn't). And Feldspar was once again confronted with how far they'd fallen for the engineer.

Then, in those quiet moments an hour or so before dawn, when they watched Slate sleeping, they thought 'maybe this is enough'. Maybe what they'd been chasing after, searching for, grasping at their whole life was right here next to them...

When they thought that, they quickly got dressed and snuck out before Slate woke up.

[They awoke with a start, gasping loudly. They always did after coming out of torpor. Their heart raced. Their muscles shook. Their skin heated up uncomfortably and it made them break out into a cold sweat. That was always followed by nausea and dizziness until their breathing steadied and their heart rate slowed.

Time to stretch. Time to eat. They had a can of marshmallows left. They could make a fire. There was still water in their flask.

They went about all those things mindlessly, listening carefully for signs of movement in the mist all the while. There was no relaxing here.This place was quiet, but it was by no means peaceful.

It was eery. It was weird. It was dangerous...]

Feldspar was grateful when their friends humored them with that campout under the stars.

It could have very well been their last.

And that knowledge coloured their music as they played the Traveler's song with Gossan, Slate, and Esker.

But this was the path they'd chosen. They were going to see it through. To the End, if that was the case.

Probably what had hurt the most that night was how Slate had gone so incredibly quiet on them; hardly looked at them. But Feldspar only had themself to blame. They'd been avoiding Slate's gaze in general over the last few days, hoping they wouldn't notice Feldspar's tremors or the fever-flush on their cheeks. They were kind of surprised that Slate didn't notice actually.

Resolve steeled, and doubts buried, they'd given Slate one last kiss before laying on their sleeping bag and drifting off while watching the planets dance across the sky.

It was an interesting realization: that at some points in your life, you have to kill a part of yourself to move forward.

They'd all had to when they agreed to send Feldspar into the Wilds.

Even Gossan.

Even Esker.

Even Hornfels.

Even Slate.

They didn't kiss Slate before they entered their ship. But the engineer had gripped them by the shoulder hard, given them a look, and told them to watch themself up there. Feldspar had done their typical 'Feldspar' thing. Grinned like a fool and joked, and made empty promises.

Slate hadn't smiled back at them.

The launch and the orbital flight had been...

Even now their memory of that first flight gave them scalebumps and made them emotional. It was everything, everything they'd hoped for and more...

But things hadn't gone well after not very long.

They'd struggled to breathe, and for a short while they thought there was a drop in the cabin's oxygen.

After a few seconds of taking stock, they'd realized it was because they'd finally contracted pneumonia again.

They'd had a hard time not panicking, despite the training stints they'd had in the Zero-G cave with Gossan. Oh, how they wished they had their miner friend in the cockpit with them then. Especially as they'd felt their vision swim and go dark-

They'd woken from the crash two weeks later, only to learn that Slate had sustained a head injury that affected their eye (which they deliberately avoided talking about out of guilt), that Trailblazer was a wreck, and that the whole Space program had been shut down.

After a lengthy and heated (and emotional, in Feldspar's case) conversation with the engineer had failed to change their mind about pulling out of the Ventures, Feldspar had lost their shit.

They'd trashed their shared cabin (broken arm and collarbone and all).

They'd refused to eat.

They'd refused to speak to anyone.

They'd demanded to be left alone to die, because that's all they were good for now...

Stars above, they were a dramatic little shit back then...

Their extended tantrum had eventually gotten them their way. But Slate had one condition.

Gossan had to agree to become the next pilot for emergency situations.

Of course Gossan threw a small fit of their own. But all Feldspar had to do was give them a soulful look and beg a little.

They were a manipulative little shit too...

It took more than a year before Feldspar could fly again, both because Slate refused to fix Trailblazer until they had a 'backup ship' (the one that Gossan would pilot), and because Feldspar took months to recover from the pneumonia, and even longer to recover from the physical damage of the crash.

They busied themself by going on a 'Promotional campaign' of sorts for the Ventures. They designed an emblem, drafted posters, and set up a little station for anyone who was interested in joining the Space Program to learn more and sign up (with Hornfels help).

Rutile didn't argue with them this time. The dark glare Feldspar had given them after their last 'conversation' had discouraged that.

Yeah, even Feldspar had to admit that they weren't the same after the crash. Extensive facial scarring aside, Gneiss had warned them that severe head injuries could cause personality changes. And that was indeed the case for Feldspar.

They became even more callous. Their sense of humor had taken on an entirely dark tone. They were more confrontational than charismatic with certain individuals. It was probably the reason they'd gone bonkers and trashed their cabin after arguing with Slate.

And after that threat of ending the Space Program, they became even more stubborn (if that was even possible). Not to mention a little cynical and irritable, to the point where they couldn't bear to share a living space with anyone anymore.

Which later resulted in them spending all of their post-recovery free-time building their own small cabin.

Then when Slate finally started working on Trailblazer, after PathFinder's completion, they'd slowly managed to reconcile things between them.

It wasn't long after that before they fell back into old ways. Only now, there was the added dynamic of intimacy.

But it was different. It didn't feel as warm as before. It had become more of a... 'mutual understanding'.

Feldspar didn't think about it too hard. Whatever happened, they were focused on one thing, and one thing only.

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish Feldspar...

So much occurred over the next few years.

They landed on the Attlerock.

Gossan followed. And crashed. Then they'd danced on the moon together before repairing Gossan's ship enough that the could return to TH (at which point Gossan and Slate had a massive argument about what was considered pilot error, and what was simply shoddy engineering).

Chert signed up to train as an astronaut soon after their Sapwine ceremony...

Then Gossan was strapped with the job of Flight Coach (which Feldspar thinks they were probably relieved about).

Feldspar explored the Ash and Ember Twins, and somehow didn't die.

But there were plenty of crashes...

Which called for an off-planet mechanic...

Which resulted in Esker learning to fly...

Which resulted in the establishment of the Lunar Outpost.

Hornfels began work on the museum exhibits after Feldspar started bringing back Nomai artifacts.

Slate got clever with their ship upgrades thanks to the help of Nomai technology.

And Feldspar lived their dream.

They were absolutely addicted to the Outer Wilds.

To Extraterrestrial exploration.

To new discoveries. To the vast, endless playground that was Space.

To being Free...

Until one morning when their safety harness felt a little tight around their waist when they got dressed.

And continued to feel tight over the following days.

And tighter still after a few weeks.

Which had been confusing, because Feldspar wasn't someone who put on weight easily, if at all. Sure, at twenty-six their metabolism had probably started slowing down. But still...

After returning from a campaign on Ember Twin, they'd taken a good look at themself in the mirror-

Seen their distended abdomen-

Remembered how a few months back they'd come into season for the first time (they'd been a late bloomer), and had been absolutely overwhelmed and driven by carnal desires.

Slate's efforts to dissuade them hadn't worked, not even when they offered to reverse roles if it helped sate Feldspar's...needs (which had been fun- more fun than sex had been in a while, in fact, because Slate had laughed at the look on Feldspar's face when they...).

But their void-may-care attitude had overridden any logical thought, and Slate's voice of reason had fallen on deaf ears in the end, and they weren't really giving Slate a choice (not that the engineer had put up that much of a fight after a little bit of persuasion)-

That had been a dumb idea.

They rushed to Gneiss' cabin.

They'd asked Gossan to let Slate know that they wouldn't be launching as scheduled. Slate had come looking for them, demanding to know why.

Feldspar refused to see them. Told Slate they were sick and didn't want any visitors. Told everyone else who knocked on their door the same. And didn't leave their cabin for days until Tektite came in and gave them a lecture on taking proper care of their health during this phase, and that meant regular walks and fresh air and proper nutrition and-

Feldspar had complied reluctantly, but made sure to wear the baggiest tunic they could find anytime they stepped outside.

It was hard to avoid anyone when you lived in a tiny village such as theirs. Whenever they crossed paths with someone and were forced to interact, they reverted to their old 'Feldspar' ways of joking, deflecting, misdirecting, and quickly scurrying off. That worked with most, except with Gossan (who was sensitive to these things and started keeping tabs on them... after a healthy amount of worried looks, and questions about the potential effects of radiation exposure on a developing egg).

It was harder when it was hatchlings that stopped them to talk, because Feldspar always had a soft spot for them (which was amplified now that they had a rising concentration of nurturing hormones simmering in their brain.)

It was Gabbro (who was in their teens at the time and already taller than Feldspar then) who actually noticed something was different.

"New pal?" They'd asked Feldspar casually after only a quick look at the pilot.

Feldspar had chuckled darkly and cocked their head to one side, "Yeah! Outer Wilds Ventures could use more space cadets."

And Gabbro had twirled their flute in one hand, nodding slowly because they were probably taking it literally.

"Gonna take a while before they can start training, though."

Feldspar's next laugh had been genuine.

"Well then! Why don't you sign up to join the Space Program? Then maybe you'll be the one to show them the ropes!"

Gabbro continued to twirl their flute expertly before they answered.

"Shouldn't you be the one who does that?"

Feldspar had felt their blood run cold at that question.

Void knew if they'd be around long enough to even dream of doing that...

The possibility that they wouldn't get that chance had hurt more than they'd expected...

[The trees had grown even taller by the next time they woke up from another slumber cycle.

It had probably been at least three months since they arrived here, then..

They were starting to feel weak from lack of nutrition now. They didn't bother playing their harmonica.

Sometimes they thought they heard voices. Footsteps. The sound of a breeze through pine trees.

Sometimes they saw shadows in the mist that looked alarmingly Hearthian-shaped.

They didn't talk to themself. They were afraid that if they did that, they might lose their mind.

Maybe they already had.

Get up-

Their bones ached...

Stretch-

They could barely lift their arms above their shoulders...

Eat-

...

They'd run out of food.

The jellyfish wasn't an option.

Maybe they could fabricate a giant harpoon and spear an anglerfish. Haha.

...

There were all these little centipedes floating around, though. Is that what the fish ate?

Not as if they had any other options at this point.]

They stopped visiting Slate outside of Ventures-related business after that. It just didn't feel right to continue things as they had been after Feldspar had so blatantly avoided them. Especially given the circumstances for doing so...

They'd asked Gneiss to look after their tadpole once they'd hatched from the incubation cave (they really didn't want Rutile doing it, and Slate had their hands full).

Gneiss had agreed without question, and hugged them tightly. Feldspar thinks it would have been appropriate to cry or something then, because they had no right to shunt this responsibility on their old caretaker.

But they'd lacked the proper degree of remorse to shed any tears back then.

They returned to the Wilds as soon as they could fit back into their harness.

And when word of the arrival of a new hatchling circulated through the village a few months later, Feldspar kept their distance.

Slate radioed them the day after. They didn't ask outright, but the question hung over the line loudly.

Feldspar didn't say anything about it. They were too ashamed. Not because they'd borne Slate's offspring. But because they knew all too well that they had no intention of filling the parent role.

Sure, raising hatchlings as a community was the Hearthian way of life. But there was the silent understanding that if you bore a tadpole, you at least made an effort to be present. It was the decent thing to do.

But Feldspar had come to accept the fact that they were probably Timber Hearth's 'Number One Asshole' by then.

It was best for everyone if Feldspar stayed away, really. They were good for a thrilling story and some laughs, but other than that, they were a pretty cruddy person.

They really could have spent a bit more time thinking that one through.

Their next return to Timber Hearth was a tense one, because they'd expected to be bombarded with questions unrelated to their travels.

There weren't any. And somehow, beyond all sense or comprehension, that had made Feldspar angry.

No one really cared after all, huh?

They'd brushed the anger off quickly with a push of their mental kill-switch, and returned to their cabin hastily after checking in with Slate to give a brief damage report. Slate didn't even try looking them in the eyes.

They were relieved when they didn't meet anyone on their way back to their cabin-

But they hadn't expected Gneiss to show up at their door with their hatchling in their arms that evening.

They'd almost screamed at the artisan to take them away, because they knew that as soon as they saw that tiny face, their heart would be torn again...

And that's exactly what had happened.

"You need to name them, Feldspar." Gneiss had said gently as they held the infant out toward them.

Feldspar's hands had shaken even more than usual when they reached out instinctively to cradle their hatchling to their chest. Feldspar was one of the 'soft types', having a higher concentration of nurturing hormones than others. Gneiss was the same; Gossan was even worse.

They didn't feel anything as they studied the infant, because they forced themself not to. But they quickly memorized their scale pattern (a mixture of pebbles and swirls), the amber hue of their unfocused little eyes, the upward tilt of their ears, the curve of their cheeks, the tiny fingers that grasped at nothing...

They'd felt their legs go numb as they stood there, so they moved into the cabin and sat on a chair at the table, not taking their eyes off their hatchling.

They don't remember how long they'd studied them before they eventually decided.

"Mica."

Over the next four years, Feldspar spent even less time on planet. Spent less time at the campfire when they returned. And they avoided any hatchlings as much as possible (although little Reg had become something of a firecracker and would follow them like a shadow whenever they got the chance).

Gabbro had signed up with the Ventures then, and Feldspar still had it in them to be happy about that. So far, the only other real astronaut was far less interested in exploration than in science. It would be nice to show Gabbro around the 'neighborhood,' when they graduated from Gossan's training program. They'd finally have someone to share their dream with.

Maybe then it would feel like everything else they were giving up was worth it...

They'd begun to run out of thrilling stories to share during their visits home. That was partly because they'd gotten sick of the fact that the only time anyone thought to pay them more than a cursory glance was when they wanted a story. And as soon as the story was over, Feldspar was just the living Ghost again.

The other part was because they didn't enjoy space travel as much as they used to. They just didn't experience that same level of adrenaline, or wonder, or freedom.

Because they were distracted. Because half of their heart was here on Timber Hearth. And no amount of trying to ignore it had stopped the nagging in their brain that they were missing something.

But at this stage in their life, Feldspar had already trodden a path so deep it was inescapable, and it only went in one direction: away from here.

There was no getting out of it, no turning back now. Not for anything.

Or anyone.

Maybe if they finished exploring the solar system, they'd retire...

If they even lasted that long...

They'd started to feel... Off.

And it was ominous.

[The centipedes didn't taste like much, thanks to the numbing effect of what Feldspar supposed was their venom.

The first bite had made them gag, and when their tongue had started tingling they'd thought 'ah, so it'll be the bugs that kill me in the end. Go figure.'

But they didn't keel over a couple of hours after ingesting one, much to their surprise (and more than a little disappointment). And, although the insects lacked any real depth of flavor, they were their last hope of surviving long enough for a rescue...

If it ever came.

They tried roasting them next. And later, boiling them. Neither methods made them any more palatable. The boiling reduced the tingling sensation, though.

They didn't even try to fight their thoughts and memories anymore. It was all they had for company - something Feldspar thought they'd be just fine without.

What had even possessed them to tackle Dark Bramble straight after riding the GD cyclones and 'feldsparring' the water planet in the first place?

Oh, right.

They were dying.

At least, they were pretty sure that was the case. Yet, here they still were...

Unbidden, the memories of their last moments with Gossan and Slate assaulted them.

"If you leave... That's it... I'm done with this."

"I'd like it if you could bring the ship back in one piece..."

Feldspar swallowed hard.

They were a real piece of shit.

They'd lied to Gossan.

They'd used Slate.

They'd abandoned everyone else.

As always, they'd only ever thought about themself.

Did they even deserve to be rescued?

...

Feldspar huffed.

Nah.]

It had started with their appetite decreasing steadily.

Followed by tingling in their fingertips.

And lightheadedness.

And breathlessness.

Then they started waking up coughing and choking on fluid in the middle of the night.

And after a while, that fluid had turned from clear to pink.

As usual, they didn't tell anyone.

Feldspar knew their body. Knew this wasn't pneumonia, or anything to do with their lungs.

And they had been certain it was their death knell.

They were running out of time. But they hadn't conquered Giant's Deep. They hadn't set foot in Dark Bramble.

Their life would end meaningless if they couldn't do those. They were absolutely convinced of that.

That's what they'd told themself. That was their main concern: Their yearning for the Wilds. Their desire to feel that freedom and peace one more time.

(Maybe they had just been in a rush to get those under their belt so they could finally...)

This time, they didn't succeed in hiding their illness

They collapsed outside after they'd returned to Timber Hearth from a shorter-than-intended campaign. Because they'd used up their oxygen stores too quickly.

They'd started running a fever. They were weak.

They were out cold for two days straight.

When they came out of the delirium, they'd heard Gneiss and Gossan whispering.

'Their heart is...failing.'

Heh. That explained it.

Gossan had tried so hard to act like everything was okay. They made Feldspar promise not to try anything stupid.

Slate had even come to visit, which was mildly surprising. What was more surprising was the ache they'd felt when they saw the look in their friend's eyes.

It had been a couple of years since they'd locked gazes like that.

Feldspar had joked. It fell flat.

Then they'd had a coughing fit that left pink spatters all over the bed sheets, and Slate had almost left to call Gneiss.

Feldspar begged them not to.

Then, for the first time in who knows how long, they spoke seriously. They told it to the engineer straight.

They couldn't die here in a cage. If it was their time, they wanted to return home. To go out with the stars.

Slate had stayed quiet at that. Then they'd demanded to know what the hell it was Feldspar was asking for.

'A ship ready to launch', had been Feldspar's answer. And a kill-switch for the radio. And time to get far enough away that no one would have a chance to interfere.

Slate called them an asshole for what they were asking, and for what it would do to Gossan.

Feldspar had smiled self deprecatingly and said 'Yeah, I know'.

They didn't manage to evade Gossan as they snuck out of their cabin toward the launch pad.

Didn't manage to not lock eyes with Slate before they entered their ship.

Didn't manage to block out the images of everyone they were about to leave behind for good.

But they'd hit their mental kill-switch at the same time as the mechanical one Slate had quickly installed for the radio.

[When they really thought about it, it was pretty obvious that no one would be coming now. The trees had grown tall, so at least five months had passed.

No one would expect a pilot lost in space to survive after that long.

Feldspar's lip curled up on one side.

Yeah, they'd really gone and done it. This wasn't how they'd expected it to go.

There were no stars here. Just a grave within a grave.

Just what someone like them deserved, then.

The universe was cruel, making them promises and giving them a taste of what it felt like to really be, only to snatch it all away again at the very end..

Or perhaps they were finally just reaping the consequences of their actions...

Probably the latter.

And besides...

How would they even be able to face everyone back home, now that they'd confronted just how much of a rotten scumbag they were?

It was better this way. Things were as they should be.

They'd run. They'd chased. They'd flown. It was over now.

They decided there and then that they wouldn't add more fuel to the fire.

Wouldn't hack up any more ice for water.

Wouldn't bother catching anymore centipedes.

Wouldn't try sleeping to prolong the inevitable.

Feldspar took out their harmonica.

And played.

And thought.

About Gneiss.

And Tektite.

And Slate.

And Gossan.

And Hornfels.

And Tuff.

And Spinel.

And even Rutile.

And Chert.

And Riebeck.

And Gabbro.

And Porphy.

And Marl.

And Hal.

And Regolith.

And Mica.

Mica.

And they didn't cry, because it was too late for that.

...

They almost stopped when they saw lights-

Heh. Must be an anglerfish drawn in by their music. At least someone would benefit from their death.

Then they heard the rushing of displaced air-

Hopefully it would be quick. They wondered if they'd taste as bad as the centipedes.

They heard footsteps-

That wasn't new...

Saw a figure in the mist-

Neither was that...

The reflection of firelight on gold-lined glass-

...

The figure came into focus-

lifted a three-fingered gloved hand in greeting-

"Hey Feldspar. Time to go."

They dropped their harmonica in their lap.

The figure walked closer.

Feldspar brought their knees up to their chest. Then they grinned even as their hands shook.

"Whoa! Where'd you come from? No one's been here in-"

"'Ever, right? That makes me the second Hearthian to reach Dark Bramble," the figure - astronaut- had said this while making impatient gestures with one hand, "Yeah yeah, I know. Up you get."

Feldspar frowned. They felt like they'd just had their mind read. They weren't about to let some rookie onto that little fact, however.

"What's the rush, traveler? Why not take a load off and-"

"My oxygen tank's full, thanks."

...

Whoever this person was, they sounded young.

"Riebeck?"

"Good guess, but no," the astronaut kneeled down in front of them, "I'm gonna be straight with you, Feldspar. We don't have time for chitchat."

They were a sassy little bugger, whoever they were...

"Who-?"

"I'll tell you when we're in the ship."

Downright rude, in fact.

"Listen to me carefully," the astronaut leaned closer.

Feldspar leaned back against their log instinctively. Up close, they got a brief glimpse of a face that almost looked familiar, although they couldn't be sure...

"Gossan and Slate are dying."

They felt their entire body go numb. They opened and closed their mouth dumbly a few times.

"What-"

"Like I said, no time. We need to get you back before it's too late. Let's go. Now."

They'd rushed to their feet shakily, their mind reeling, their ears ringing, their heart sinking as the mysterious astronaut led them away from their would-be coffin. When their feet stumbled, they were grabbed by the elbow and steadied as they walked towards the maw-end of their 'camp'.

Then they were jolted as the gravity crystal lost its pull and they were both thrust forward by a short burst of the astronauts jet pack.

The ship was obviously one of Slate's newer models. It looked similar to Gabbro's, but it had some Nomai tech serving as an elevator.

When their feet landed on the wood of the ship's cabin, Feldspar noticed there was someone already sitting in the pilot's seat.

"Alright 'Bro, let's blow this shitshow," their rescuer had said firmly as they brushed passed Feldspar

"Haha. Did you rhyme that intentionally?" The figure at the controls stood up from their seat lazily. They were tall and lanky.

"Knew you'd appreciate that. Now, move your ass already." Their rescuer shoed the taller figure away.

"Gotcha. Your controls, buddy," Said taller figure turned toward Feldspar and approached.

Feldspar stood rooted to the floor when they recognized the suit.

They opened their mouth to say a greeting, but the young astronaut's earlier words had rendered them speechless.

The taller astronaut broke the silence first.

"Hey pal. Long time no see."

Feldspar's legs gave out under them, but Gabbro was quick to grab them under their arms before they hit the deck.

"Woah there. I gotcha."

Feldspar shook, but couldn't bring themself to look up "Gabby?"

Gabbro helped them settle against the wall before answering, "The one and only."

"Both of you keep it down back there. I need to concentrate," came a voice from the pilot's seat.

Feldspar watched Gabbro throw a thumbs up in the direction of the voice. Then they sat down beside them.

They'd wanted to say more to their old friend, but Feldspar couldn't stop thinking about what they'd heard.

'Gossan and Slate are dying'.

They licked their super-dry lips, "What-"

Gabbro put a gloved finger to the mouthpiece of Feldspar's visor. Then they signed 'talk later'.

Feldspar shut up. They found those next few minutes to be the most distressing of their entire life (and they'd been through more than their fair share of distressing situations).

They tried to distract themself by watching the astronaut fly the ship.

It was terrifying. They were flying right past those Hearth Damned fish!

They were all going to die-

Gabbro was signing something...

'Fish... Blind...'

What?!

Two minutes in, and they hadn't been eaten yet. Other than their precise maneuvering of the controls, the pilot was as still and silent as a statue.

Then suddenly-

Screeeeeech~!!!

"Shit!"

Both Feldspar and Gabbro fell toward the ship's hatch as the thrusters were engaged full force. Gabbro grabbed them around the shoulders to stop them tumbling around like a ragdoll.

"Kiss my ass, you fuckers!"

There was that blood-curdling sound those gnarly things made when in pursuit. Feldspar shut their eyes.

They were absolutely going to die.

They were-

...

Things went deathly quiet, then-

"Ha! You're welcome!"

Alive?

They looked up. The astronaut was punching something in on the controls, then they got to their feet and cracked their knuckles. As the flight chair swivelled, they got a good look at the scene outside the viewport.

They saw stars.

Feldspar blinked.

"Auto pilot will do the rest. Now," the astronaut knelt in front of Feldspar again, "a few points to get you up to speed..." They unfastened and removed their helmet-

Feldspar's eyes went wide.

"Regolith?"

The hatchling(?!) smiled at them. It wasn't an entirely happy one. Their eyes looked far too tired.

"Yep, it's me. They made me an astronaut," they grinned, but it was little more than a show of teeth, "And I haven't blown myself up yet. This time..." They trailed off looking at Gabbro briefly.

Before Feldspar could question that, their rescuer continued.

"Listen to me, Feldspar. We both know that time in Dark Bramble works different. However long you've been gone according to your watch, it's been eight years back on Timber Hearth. Got that?"

Feldspar nodded automatically. This was a little too much for even their brain to keep up with.

Gabbro's hand squeezed their shoulders which helped keep them in the present.

"You've been gone for eight years. Things have changed. People have changed. We thought you were dead."

Feldspar nodded again.

"S-slate and... and Gossan...?" They croaked.

Reg looked at Gabbro again quickly, before locking eyes with Feldspar. Then they looked away.

"They've suffered," is all they said.

Feldspar swallowed thickly. Before they could say anything else Reg put their helmet back on and returned to the pilot seat.

Feldspar watched them while trying to compute everything they'd just heard. Gabbro squeezed their shoulder again a moment later.

"Wanna see?" they asked, gesturing to the viewport with their head.

Feldspar stared at them stupidly for a moment, then nodded.

Gabbro lifted them to their feet like they weighed nothing. Then Feldspar took the few shaky steps needed to stand just to the left of the pilot seat.

It was all still there like they remembered. Giant's Deep, and the Wandering moon was orbiting this time. The Ash Twins. The Attlerock. Timber Hearth.

Feldspar blinked. Feldspar breathed.

They heard a few artificial chirps as the autopilot completed it's course.

"I'm going to land. Hold on to something."

Feldspar's pilot instincts kicked in, "You not gonna radio Ground control first to makes sure the landing pad's clear?" Their voice was much too raspy for their liking.

Reg chuckled. It sounded awfully like themself.

"The landing pad is clear. Trust me."

A minute later, they touched down. Then Gabbro was helping them towards the hatch.

"You not coming, time buddy?"

Feldspar glanced back at Reg, who hadn't left their seat.

"No. Got an errand to run," they murmured, "I'll be right back after."

Gabbro said a quick 'gotcha', then continued to escort Feldspar out of the ship.

When their feet hit the wooden boards of the landing deck, the gravity hit them harder than expected. Their knees buckled again, but Gabbro held them up.

"You okay, pal?" They asked gently, and somehow they seemed even taller without a roof over their head.

Feldspar laughed (gasped for breath), and patted the younger astronaut on the back weakly.

"Oh yeah, I'm good. Don't worry about me," they barely managed.

By the time they made it to the elevator, they felt more steady. Just as they were about to step onto it, Gabbro turned them around by the shoulders.

"Let's take that broken ol' helmet off for you," they said as they reached for the fasteners.

Feldspar didn't have it in them to object. But the feeling of sun on their skin and fresh air on their cheeks made their eyes water.

They blinked rapidly. Then Gabbro handed them their helmet, which they took with numb, shaky hands.

As they watched, the younger astronaut lifted their hands and removed their own helmet. Through bleary eyes, Feldspar took in the sight of Gabbro's face.

Their blue eyes shone dully, but they were just as gentle as Feldspar remembered. And just as sad looking.

Then Gabbro grinned at them, something Feldspar wasn't used to seeing on the younger's face...

Actually, if it was true that eight years had passed then...

That would mean Feldspar and Gabbro were almost the same age now...

Huh.

"I think you should head down first. I'll wait here for when Reg gets back."

Feldspar stared dumbly again for a long moment, then nodded and stepped into the elevator-

"Oh, and, haha-" Gabbro called from behind them, "don't be mad, okay?"

They gave Gabbro one last baffled look before lowering the carriage.

They had a few moments to steel themself while the elevator descended.

They needed to find Gossan and Slate...

"-dying."

Feldspar felt their throat start to close up.

...

Then the elevator landed. Feldspar stepped out.

They heard irate talking, radio static-

"-just got off the elevator-"

That-

That voice.

"You little shit! What in Hearth's name-"

Feldspar froze.

So did the tall figure that was pointing an accusatory finger at them from a few feet away.

There was silence, save for the crackling of fire and the whine of radio speakers.

"-I'm heading down there right now. Don't let them set one foot out of that gorge-"

There was a thunk as a handheld radio hit the ground.

"-Slate?! Do you hear me?!"

Feldspar blinked and swallowed hard.

"Hey-" they croaked, "you ol' wingnut."

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