Crum had learned at an early age to polish and shape stones he gathered from the tailings of the nearby mines. Not only was he able to sell them on the street for credits that would buy food and occasionally a night in one of the flop houses, but the work made him feel like he was a part of something meaningful. Once or twice he had found shards of the crystals that were mined here and he would feel great comfort in their touch. But always those had more value than any of the stones he formed and he would invariably have to sell them to eat. Each time it was harder and harder to let them go though and he knew that one lunar it would not be possible for him to let them go.