Cassi kept the fire alive all night long. It cast odd shadows on the sand — like dancers twirling — or maybe it was just my vision swimming. He kept up a steady stream of his creations for me to drink.
"You should sleep," I groaned, my voice thick and slurred.
When he looked at me, I could almost imagine a wagging tail. My concern only seemed to make him more determined.
I finally drifted off after he gave me a strong, sweet, syrupy drink. It reminded me of a candy I once begged our tutor to bring for Tails and me — a bribe, really, to encourage her during our lessons. We waited until Father was gone, then peeled off the colourful wrappers and let the sweetness warm our mouths. We finished the bag too fast, drunk on sugar and excitement. When Father found the wrappers, he punished us with an early bedtime.
That was when Tails revealed one last piece — hidden in her pocket. She insisted we split it. It tasted the best of all.
The potion stuck to my insides the same way, making me feel soft and warm. I nuzzled into the sand and let sleep take me.
When I next opened my eyes, the sun was blinding. Cassi lay on the far side of the fire — he must have finally fallen asleep. I tried to move, but a sharp pain bloomed behind my eyes.
"Vie?" Cassi was suddenly beside me, wiping my forehead. I realized I was drenched in sweat, the heat pressing in from all sides.
I tried to smile reassuringly, but he didn't buy it. He tilted another bowl of the tart stuff to my lips, and I swallowed gratefully. My mouth had tasted, until that moment, like I imagined a desert might.
"We need to go back to my camp today," he said gently as if I were a sick child who needed coaxing.
I nodded — just barely — and the pain receded a little.
"I'll cook another tonic, then we'll see if you can stand," he said. He already had an armful of ingredients, which he dropped into the pot before coaxing the fire back to life. As he stirred, he watched me from the corner of his eye. I pretended not to notice.
Instead, I looked up at the sky — cloudless, pale, impossibly gentle. I tried to picture the house, what it might look like now, but gave up quickly. It felt too far away to imagine. A burst of color caught my eye: birds, flashing with bright wings and long, jeweled tails, swooped low over the trees. I craned my head to follow them.
"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Cassi said, reverence clear in his voice. "Ever seen ones like that, Vie?"
"No," I rasped. "I've never seen anything like them."
He laughed softly. "You'll see plenty of them around here. They come looking for treats."
I could picture it easily — Cassi with arms full of birds, feeding them from his palms as others circled him. His eyes gleamed with light, scolding them gently for taking too many like he was some forest caretaker and they were his spoiled children.
He poured the tonic into a bowl and crouched beside me.
"This one's a family recipe," he said, eyes twinkling. "Passed down from my father, and his father before him."
He raised the bowl to my lips. I tried not to flinch at the smell — not sweet, not exactly unpleasant, but like flower pollen left too long in the sun. The taste, though, was a surprise. Explosive. Tangy and wild, balanced by just enough sweetness to feel like a ballad dancer spinning in perfect form.
Strength returned to my limbs. It felt as if the pain was melting away, dripping off my fingers with the sweat.
"What's it like?" he asked, I could see a twinkling in his eyes.
"It's the best thing I've ever tasted," I said, with surprising energy. I wanted more — so badly it almost hurt.
He grinned and gave me three more sips. Each one was just as good as the last.
With Cassi's help, I stood.
My legs felt strange beneath me, wobbly, like they were still at sea.
When he saw me stumbled, he caught me and he kept one arm braced behind my back as I straightened slowly, my breath catching at the sudden lurch of blood rushing to my head.
"Easy," he murmured, "No need to rush."
The world around us had changed since last night.
The sand felt warmer, golden beneath my toes, and the air had a sweetness to it, as though every breath I took was laced with something blooming. I could not distinguish each scent, or name the plants they came from.
Cassi gathered what supplies he had left — a handful of flasks, a small leather pouch of powders, a cloth-wrapped bundle of herbs — and carefully packed them into a satchel.
"We'll take the long way around," he said, adjusting the strap over his chest. "It's easier, less rocky. And prettier, too."
I wasn't sure I could make it five steps, let alone however many it would take to find shelter again — but something in the way Cassi held me gave me confidence that I would make it. We would make it.
We walked slowly, winding from the sandy shore into the deep green.
The forest was like nothing I had ever seen. Not the gardens in Tails favourite picture books. This was wild. Towering trees stretched endlessly overhead, their leaves forming a canopy that shimmered in emerald. Light filtered through in patches, dappling the ground in complex mosaics that made my head feel light.
I stumbled once on a root and Cassi caught me by the elbow, holding me up like it was the easiest thing in the world.
"We're lucky," he said, his voice hushed, as though afraid to wake something. "This time of year, the jungle is quieter. The louder things are still sleeping."
"What kind of things?" I asked.
He glanced at me and grinned. "You'll see."
We passed vines with flowers the size of dinner plates, and trees that seemed to hum with insects when we brushed past. At one point, Cassi stopped and pulled a round fruit from a low-hanging branch, split it neatly with a curved knife, and handed half to me.
It bled violet juice, staining my fingers.
"Tastes like cinnamon and sea wind," he said with a small wink, already biting into his half.
I laughed — a small, surprised sound — then took a bite. It felt like I hadn't eaten in years and I finished off three fruits.
After a while, we stopped to rest beside a stream so clear I could see every rounded stone on the bottom. Cassi knelt and dipped his hand into the current, then motioned for me to do the same.
"It's safe," he said. "Cold, but pure."
The water stung at first, waking my skin like I had dipped my hand into a bolt of lightning. Then it settled into something calm. I let the cool run between my fingers and tried not to think too much — about my boat, about what came next, about whether I would ever see Tails again.
Cassi showed me how to cup my hands and drink. The water tasted so cold on my tongue I shivered.
"Almost there," Cassi said gently, and I nodded, rising slowly.
I didn't ask what "there" meant.
I simply followed.