It was only natural to supplement words with action, to express what was in his heart, to give voice to what his voice could not; there was no way to separate it all from each other. Each had their different uses, each had their own meaning, and each had their proper place right by the others' sides--all part of a whole, the desire to reach out and touch someone, to understand and be understood, to form a connection. There was no need to think about what seemed so obvious and natural and right; interactions were meant to be about what you could give to each other, and to do that, all you could do was offer what you had, what you knew and felt.

You didn't always need much to make yourself understood; sometimes, words weren't even necessary. And Jara was pretty sure that Daniel had understood him, that he was summing up in few words what he hadn't been sure how to explain. Jara nodded his confirmation, hand settling to curve his palm over the pod they stood near. That was exactly it--they had died. Something had happened, and he had died, and they had climbed up to Mother Sky, even if he didn't remember doing so. They must have, because why else would Mother Sky tell them they were here, and how much she loved them? Why else would they be standing in the sky, surrounded by the stars?