"Yeah..." Peter looked up again, though not for long. The ground was a little rougher here, uneven enough under his feet that he had to concentrate.
"Never looked like that back home, even in the middle of nowhere." It seemed more like the sky that Nicolai had described looking up at as a child. The sky of his ancestors.
He overtook Phaedra, hopping easily up onto the open back of the wagon, offering her a hand up with a quirked eyebrow. He knew she didn't need the help; didn't mean he wouldn't offer.
The wagon creaked as he sat down, dropping the tobacco pouch onto his lap and crossing his legs. It didn't take long for him to roll a cigarette, even in near-complete darkness; the moon and stars were enough to see by out here.
Lifting it to his lips, the only sound was the rasp of the match as he lit it, the slow exhale as he took a long, slow drag.