The transport shook a little as it entered atmosphere, wobbling as the transition from void to air rocked across its fuselage. A few words flew between the pilots, faces obscured by their helmets, reflecting the myriad sensors and gauges that poured across their eyes.

Thick clouds, invited them toward them, swept across their view by torrents of wind, the occasional pocket swirling open like windows to the green below. The ship banked, pilots recalculating their landing path. The Lambda class dipped lower yet, a wing tracing lines in the clouds before a wave of vapor washed over them, bathing their view in bright fog.

And then the world opened up below them.

Wild and unkempt, the forest snarled at the landing zone in the distance, pale flickering lights marking their way past verdant woods that seemed to stretch further than they could see. The Force sang to them all now, hushed tones and conspiratorial accents retelling the tales of love, of life, of hunger, of loss. There was a look exchanged between them all, half nods and a shine behind their eyes.

No words.

Words would only complicate the feeling.

They all felt it.