I found myself lazing on a sun-warmed rock at the edge of a stream, watching Cassi make a fool of himself fishing. He clearly wasn't used to having an audience. Every time I burst out laughing—usually because a fish smacked him in the face with its tail—his face went redder.
My ankle was bound with a makeshift cast of bark and heavy vines, and Cassi's bitter brew kept the worst of the pain at bay. The sunlight felt like a soft, golden hand stroking my skin.
He showed me first how he stretched the net across the river, aiming to catch the bigger fish swimming downstream. The net was wide enough to let the minnows through, but any larger fish should've been stopped cold—at least in theory.
In reality, the fish made fools of him.
They leapt over the net like tiny acrobats, flinging themselves to freedom while Cassi lunged and slipped after them. I was grinning so hard my face hurt. Then, to my astonishment, he caught one—right out of the air.
It smacked him squarely in the cheek before he clutched it tightly and marched over.
"I call them Rainbow Skipping Fish," he said, holding it up to the light. It shimmered—iridescent blues and golds dancing along its scales.
And then he pulled out his knife and stabbed it through the head.
I let out a gasp.
His eyes met mine, and I saw regret shadow his expression. "Vie, this is the best way," he said quietly.
I looked down at the fish, now limp, its blood mingling with what had once been one of the most beautiful things I'd seen. The light no longer danced.
"That was awful," I whispered. "It was alive and you just—"
"We have to eat too, Vie." He slipped the fish into a bag and stood straighter. "Didn't you eat meat before?"
"I... yeah," I admitted.
"Then you just had other people do the killing," he said, a little sharply. "It's easy to judge when someone else stains their hands for you."
I didn't know what to say. I crossed my arms, suddenly cold despite the sun. "I won't eat meat again."
He tilted his head, appraising me with something between amusement and resignation. "You'll change your mind when you smell it frying."
I hoped every fish escaped him after that. If I could've stood, I would've limped away from the river and his bag of glimmering corpses.
He looked over and seemed to deflate. "I was harsh," he said, voice softening. "But this is how I've survived out here. The birds and fruit aren't always enough. Sometimes we do hard things to stay alive."
Cassi sat beside me. "When I eat this fish, it becomes part of me. In a way, it lives on."
"You yanked it from its world," I said. "Showed me its beauty, then—"
He held up a hand to stop me. "And now I'll show you its purpose. I'm making my famous fish fry tonight. You'll see."
My ankle throbbed suddenly, as if in protest.
Cassi frowned and handed me more tonic. I hesitated, then let him tip it back into my mouth.
"Just one fish," I pleaded. "Please."
His smile returned. "It's a good size. It'll be enough."
"I'm sorry I got upset," I murmured.
He chuckled faintly. "It was funny watching me get outsmarted by a bunch of fish."
"Performance anxiety," I said, teasing gently.
He helped me up and carried me toward camp, careful not to jostle my leg. I didn't lean into him—the scent of fish still clung to his shirt. As we walked, he said, "When the stars come out tonight, I'll tell you stories about my mother's people. They shine brightest on moonless nights."
"Your mother's people?" I perked up. Finally—something useful for my research.
"But you have to promise you'll eat the fish fry," he teased, voice close to my ear. "I can't have you trying to live off berries forever."
Something inside me fluttered at the thought of the stars. Tails and I used to read about them. We'd made charts, dreamed up constellations... but I'd never seen them clearly—not from behind Father's windows.
If Tails were here, she'd press close to me and ask every few seconds if we'd seen a shooting star. She'd want us to whisper our wishes together.
I wish we could get away from here, just you and I.
I wish to go on an adventure.
And then, silently: I wish we could see Mother again.
Cassi carried me gently into camp. A small smile tugged at his lips. "I almost forgot—I had another surprise for you."
He whistled a soft, unfamiliar note.
A tiny pinkish bird fluttered down from the canopy and landed neatly on his outstretched hand.
He bowed slightly. "For you, Vie—my best friend. I bestow upon you your own bird."
I blinked. I'd never had a pet before.
The bird flitted to me and landed on my index finger. Its downy head nuzzled against me like it had known me forever.
"She just hatched a few days ago," Cassi said with a proud smile. "I thought you'd like her."
"I love her," I blurted out, and for a moment, I wished I could hug him.
"She can keep you company while I cook," he said, turning to unpack his bag.
The little bird stayed perfectly still. I expected her to flit away.
"Go on," I encouraged gently. "Be with your friends."
But she didn't move. She just sat there, watching me.