She paused for a moment, certain in some recessed part of her brain that she heard a sound she’d thought to never hear again, the distinctive whine of a Firefly coming into atmo. Ever graceful, she blinked slowly and smiled at the children looking up at her questioningly.

“You are right, Miss Inara?” Maggie asked, her little brown eyes bright with curiosity.

“I am well, thank you,” Inara replied calmly. “Now, where were we?”

Relieved, Maggie hopped a little on her feet. “S’cussin’ proper etiqu….eti…manners,” she finished.

Inara smiled at the child gently. “Of course,” she said. “The word is ‘etiquette’. And it is a very important word indeed.” Gesturing gracefully for the little girls to take their seats around the long table, she began once again to patiently teach her young charges while relegating the hauntingly familiar sound of a particular engine to the back of her mind where it belonged.

The morning, as mornings typically did, passed quickly into afternoon and the children, eager to be free of their classes, ran down the dirt road that led from Inara’s home to the small settlement a few miles away. Inara stood in her doorway for a moment, watching them go with equal parts sorrow and relief. Every day with the small group of girls was a treasure to her, and yet their restless energy reminded her all too well of the restlessness that had once driven her from a life of wealth and privilege out into the Black. The memory was not something she allowed herself to dwell upon for very long.

Sighing, she turned back into the house just long enough to retrieve a basket and a small pair of gardening scissors. She realized that unconsciously she had been expecting to have a visitor all day long, though she knew the very idea of it was patently absurd. Blowing out a deep breath, she set out for her small garden. It was a daily ritual, much as meditation had been in years past. And she could allow that working the soil in her well-worn gloves was indeed a sort of therapy for her e