Cassi steered me at a much slower pace, his arm firmly around my waist, supporting me with each uncertain step.
"This is my home," he said at last, parting the final curtain of thick brush.
I gasped before I could stop myself.
When Cassi had called it a camp, I'd pictured a ragged cloth tent pitched beside a fire ring, a few chopped logs doubling as chairs and tables. I'd imagined something temporary. Makeshift. But I couldn't have been more wrong.
Cassi's camp was alive with personality, just like him.
My eyes were immediately drawn to the shelter—perched on the largest tree stump I had ever seen, like a bird nesting in the palm of an ancient giant. Its roof was thatched with what looked like broad jungle leaves, woven so tightly they shimmered in the dappled light. A hand-braided rope ladder dangled from the small doorway, swaying gently in the warm breeze. The fire wasn't a simple ring of stones, but a carefully built hearth surrounded by smooth flat rocks, flames still dancing merrily like it had never gone out in our absence. Instead of log stools, there were carved wooden bird stands scattered about, each shaped lovingly and with precision, the kind of care one reserves for sacred things.
But something was missing. There were no voices, no laughter. No family gathered near the fire. I looked around, craning my neck, there was no evidence of any other people. Just the birds, chattering softly from the trees above.
I looked to Cassi and found him watching me closely, his brow furrowed, anxiety written plainly across his face.
I wondered what he was thinking.
"Did you build this all by yourself?" I asked in a strained voice, still absorbing the wonder of it all.
It finally clicked in my head, he was worrying I didn't like his home. At my question, his eyes lit up like a lantern catching a sudden breeze. "Welcome to my home, Vie."
He released me for a brief moment to spread his arms, presenting the scene like a proud performer taking a final bow. But when he noticed my body sagging without his support, he darted forward again, catching me in his arms with surprising gentleness.
"I don't know what I was thinking… just letting go of you like that," he mumbled, already chastising himself.
I looked up at his face—open, earnest, that same eager expression I'd come to expect—and felt a sudden ache. "You live here all alone?"
He nodded. But I could tell he'd misunderstood me.
"Where are your family?" I asked softly, trying to meet his eyes.
His face dropped. The glow vanished, and his shoulders hunched inwards.
"I'm an—" He lowered his voice to a whisper, barely audible. "Orphan."
We stood in silence for a moment, the fire crackling behind us being the only noise, the birds had even seemed to stop talking.
"My mother died when I was little," I said, voice low. "And my father wanted nothing to do with me or my sister."
I reached for his free hand and gave it a squeeze.
Cassi stared down at our joined hands, eyes wide. A faint blush crept up from his neck to his ears. I started to let go, afraid I'd startled him, but then his fingers curled tightly around mine.
"Alone together, then?" he said, his voice lighter—hopeful, even.
I smiled, small but genuine. "Alone together, I suppose."
He helped me to the base of the ladder and then paused, frowning at the obvious problem. My legs were too unsteady to make the climb. He glanced between me and the shelter, a flurry of thoughts clearly racing behind his eyes. Then, with a determined breath, he shifted and lifted me into a fireman's carry.
The sudden movement startled me, but before I could protest, I caught the scent of sun-warmed leaves and jungle spice on his clothes. The muscles in his back tensed beneath my cheek, strong and steady. He climbed the ladder with one hand and both legs like he'd done it a thousand times before.
At the top, he gently placed me on the wooden threshold and hoisted himself up beside me with a final grunt.
"How did you—?" I blinked, breathless.
"Years of practice carrying thatching up for the roof," he said with a sheepish shrug, cheeks still flushed. He didn't quite meet my eyes as he helped me upright again.
If the outside of the camp was impressive, the inside was something close to magic.
Inks stained the wooden walls with sweeping illustrations—birds mid-flight, leaves curling in on themselves, delicate blossoms dancing on unseen breezes. The cot in the corner was raised slightly, a thick fur blanket tucked neatly over it. Real carved chairs surrounded a table made from a sanded slab of bark, its edges smoothed and polished. Wooden cups were arranged atop what looked like an upturned crate, each one unique and handmade.
Bundles of herbs in every shade hung from a woven thread along the wall, their scents mingling into a comforting tapestry—earthy, floral, and tangy. These, I guessed, were the ingredients he used to brew his tonics.
Cassi hovered nearby, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes downcast.
"It's brilliant," I whispered.
His gaze snapped up, surprise flickering in his expression like a flame catching a gust of wind. I could imagine that if he were a dog his tail would be wagging furiously.
He guided me to the bed, laying me gently onto the soft fur. My body sank into it like a sigh—I could have melted right then.
"Get some rest," he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead.
"But where will you sleep?" I asked, my voice thick with oncoming sleep.
He tilted his head, considering.
"Under the stars," he said at last, quiet and sure. "Sweet dreams, Vie."