Chapter Text
“Here.” One of the femmes sat down next to him and handed Sunstreaker a frame threaded with some kind of fiber. He didn’t think he knew her name, but that clearly didn’t matter in the moment. “Learn weave.”
Her attempt to speak Iaconian made him smile, even if it was broken. He nodded. “Okay.”
Her smile was brilliant at his agreement. Then she picked up another frame and a tool with a ball of colored fiber in the center of it. “Watch.”
And Sunstreaker did, with rapt attention, as she created a piece of cloth in front of him. Then she carefully wound the tool with new fiber and handed it to him. “Try.”
Sunstreaker nodded, and carefully started weaving the tool through the threads the same way she had. He wasn’t nearly as fast, and his cloth wasn’t nearly as perfect, but when he was done with the thread on the tool, he had enough to make a small pouch if he wanted to try that next.
And he had never felt so proud of anything in his life. For the first time, he had created instead of destroyed or just repaired.
“I want to try again,” he told the femme, blinking back tears. She beamed at him in response.