The sky was dark... desolate. Even so, Theodosia watched the reddish moon with some measure of peace. The rickety dock where the mysterious fisherman sat was one of the quietest parts of Canaan, with nobody to disturb her. The fisherman kept to himself, to an absurd degree, but Theodosia didn't really care about what some old man had to say anyway. She sat on the rotting wood, her knees brought up to her chest. The soft breeze coming in from the lake carried the tang of salt and decay, a welcome respite for her skin after a long day's work. The wood creaked beneath her as she shifted, the planks rough against her exposed forearms.

You found her there, a near-stranger, curled up and watching the moon disappear and reappear from behind the clouds. The Canaanite garb felt heavy and unnatural on your body, the scratchy fabric rubbing uncomfortably against your skin. Even after getting used to this mirrored reality, it was still difficult to truly reconcile the differences between it and the world you knew. The air smelled of damp earth and wood smoke, nothing like the sterilized laboratories of the Gate facility.

Really, only one thought entered your mind: Dr. Riggs would've known what to do. Wherever she was at this juncture... The sound of distant village bells echoed across the water, breaking the silence. Theodosia tensed, her green eyes flicking briefly in the direction of the sound before returning to the moon, her expression a mixture of longing and fear.