Lir brushed aside the hanging tapestry and stepped out of the cold desert morning into the quiet murmur of the small café. News bulletins and abstract holographic art pieces floated over low tables. A few packs sat kneeling discussing recent events, personal business, or whatever else concerned them. At the center of the irregular tent was a bar counter where a genial, elderly Avali mixed herbal drinks for her patrons. In the corners and edges of the tent, a few Avali were catching a quick nap amongst the piles of cushions.

Lir was alone, as always. He brushed the dry snow off of his traveller’s cloak and walked toward the counter, his armor sliding silently beneath. He’d headed here to see Reksalya immediately after being sent on leave. Under his arm he held a small, thin, cloth-wrapped package.

It’d been a long time since he’d first met her. She’d had nobody then, had just been a tiny young kit alone in a cold universe. But Lir had taken her in and helped her as best he could. Helped to teach her, to advise her. Lir had never had a pack, but Reksalya was the closest he’d had. But now she was fully-grown, ready to explore on her own. And so here he now was, with one last gift.

Lir studied each of the handful of packs seated in the café as he walked. Not many up while the day was still so cold. A few that had the look of grizzled miners about to begin a shift controlling extraction drones, a few researchers absorbed in scientific journals and notes. On a table to the side he noticed Reksalya, listening to a handsome young male who appeared to be telling a story. Lir walked over to the counter and ordered a spiced Kiri cider.

As he waited, he sized up the young Avali. Despite his somewhat over-confident attitude, he carried himself with the measured tension of someone with military training. Lir slowly looked around as the kindly bartender prepared his drink. The young one seemed to have three packmates with him. One, the biggest Avali Lir had seen, was looking right back at Lir, no doubt sizing him up as well. Lir gave him a nod as a sign of of professional acknowledgement. Two others, a coffee-brown male and a dusty tan female, looked to have unintentionally fallen asleep against each other.

“Here ya go,” said the bartender as she slid Lir a mug of steaming cider. “What brings you here? You don’t look like a miner.” She winked at him.

“Meeting a friend.” Lir took a sip from his drink and looked over at Reksalya. She was listening politely, but her emotions were unreadable. He’d let her finish talking with that young one first.

“Alone? Where’s the rest of your pack?” Lir simply smiled at her and said nothing. The elderly Avali raised her hands. “Fair enough. You let me know if you need anything else.” Lir nodded, and continued to watch Reksalya. She glanced over her shoulder and waved at him. He raised a hand in response and took another sip. He’d had a few short flings himself when he was younger. He hoped Reksalya would be able to open up and have some fun like that too.

Reksalya said something to him, and the young Avali stepped away and started to say his goodbyes. Lir took his cider and walked over to the table. Reksalya was clearly ready for the fellow to leave, but he seemed reluctant. He hid it well behind a mask of nonchalance, but to Lir’s eye, it looked that Reksalya’s response had confused him. Lir sat down across from Reksalya, positioning himself between her and the young man. He winked at her and she gave the slightest grin back. Behind him, Lir could hear the dejected young Avali walk back to the rest of his pack. “Making a close friend?” Lir asked with a teasing grin.

“Hah,” Reksalya smiled faintly, “no, he came over to me.”

“He seemed nice enough. Certainly quite charming.” Lir kept his easy smile, but watched Reksalya’s response closely.

“I’m not going to open up to someone just because they’re charming. Sike is charming with everyone he meets.”

Lir nodded. “Just be sure to open up sometime. I know that’s a whole mess of pain for you, but it’s also a part of life that I don’t want you to regret missing. I know I regret I didn’t take such things more seriously when I was your age.”
Reksalya broke into a full-fledged grin. “And what was it like back then, having to hunt with ice spears?”

“Ah, Reks, you wound me!” Lir rocked back in the maglev chair and took another swig from his cider. “I could be your packmate you know. On some planets.”

“A very few planets.”

“Well, alright, practically none. Still, I’m not that old.” Lir smiled into his cider. They both sat in silence for a few minutes. Then Lir reached into his cloak and pulled out the cloth-wrapped bundle, and placed it on the low table. “Though,” he finally continued, “I’m certainly not getting any younger.”
Reksalya looked at the bundle curiously, then back up at Lir. “What…“ she trailed off as she saw how serious Lir’s eyes were.

“I’d like you to have something, Reks. Something of mine that I hope you put to better use than I have.” Carefully, slowly, Lir reached out and unwound the grey cloth. Now that it had come to it, he was discovering that he was... afraid. Afraid of how Reksalya would react. He revealed a long combat dagger in a polymer sheath. The blade was metal. It was his old blade, still carefully maintained and in strong as it had ever been. Lir knew every scratch and mark on its surface by heart, knew its grip and its balance. He wasn’t interested in those. He was looking intensely at Reksalya, his four ears all perked in her direction.

She reached out and brushed the weapon’s worn hilt, feeling the scrapes and scars and chips. She didn’t know how bloody that weapon was. How many lives it’d claimed in his hands. She looked up at him, her expression impossible for Lir to read. “Why-“

“Why give you this? My old combat dagger?” Lir paused, reinforced his external composure. “Reks, I’ve lived a… dark life. You know that I can’t ever tell you most of it. But I’ve killed people who deserved to live, and saved people who deserved to die, and inflicted pain and death and sorrow everywhere I’ve gone. All that in the name of the people’s greater benefit, our race’s future. In my hands, this dagger has tasted more than its fair share of blood and torment. Reks, there’s no hope for me. I’d do it all again if I were told. But I hope that in your hands, this weapon will be used for good.”

Lir felt his voice starting to crack. “I want to believe it can be redeemed. I-“ He silenced himself. No more. Only to wait.

Reksalya lifted the weapon carefully by the sheathed blade, inspecting the accumulated wear of years of service. Lir focused only on her, on her eyes as they glanced from point to point on the weapon. Her ears as they twitched unconsciously to track sounds in the café. Then she carefully put it back down and wrapped it in the cloth again. Lir felt a pang of sadness. He’d hoped she’d accept. But perhaps it was too much to ask anyone. Perhaps it was too dirtied by its past.

“I will,” she said. And she smiled at him.