With my belly full of fish, I half lay on the warm sand and watched the sunset.
Colors spilled across the calm water like spilled paint on a mirror. The last streaks of orange and pink melted into the darkening sky, surrendering to twilight.
The jungle around us seemed to suddenly breathe to life. The rustling of the trees sounded strange to my ears when I could not see into the jungle. Then somewhere in the distance, a creature began an eerie, haunting song.
I shuddered.
"Tree frogs," Cassi said, startling me. I yelped as the pain in my leg flared again. He was carrying the fur from his bed, the firelight flickered across his face and he gave me a small smile. I watched him laying it down on the sand, just beyond the tree line near the water's edge.
"May I?" he asked, holding out his hands.
I placed mine in his and let him pull me upright. I wobbled awkwardly on the uneven sand, trying to find my footing. When I started to tilt, Cassi caught me without hesitation and lifted me gently. He carried me to the blanket and lowered me carefully onto my back, face turned skyward.
No stars yet. But I knew they were coming.
"Each star is its own sun," I murmured, recalling a textbook passage. "Each one has its own planets, just like our solar system."
Cassi lay beside me—not so close that we touched, but close enough that I could feel his warmth radiating like a second fire. He stretched, hands behind his head, and turned slightly to glance at me.
"You comfortable?"
I shifted a little to find the sweet spot in the blanket, then gave a soft hum of assent.
We both looked up in silence. My heart fluttered—not from the pain this time but from the quiet awe of it all. Wonder. That childlike wonder Tails and I had shared so often. How strange to feel it now beside a boy.
My fingers twitched the impulse to reach for his hand rising unbidden. I stopped myself.
Then, the stars appeared.
One by one, they blinked into being, scattered like glowing seeds across the dark velvet sky. I lost count after fifty. Some were faint, like old memories. Others shimmered as if burning through time itself.
"A shooting star!" I gasped, unable to hide my excitement. It streaked across the sky and vanished.
"They're supposed to bring good luck," Cassi murmured.
Then, in a swift and unexpected motion, he took my hand. Gently, reverently, he lifted it toward the sky.
"The stories of my mother's people are written up there," he said. "And we can trace them through time. All the way back to Grandfather and Grandmother—the first of the nature spirits."
With my hand in his, he traced a shape in the sky. A moment later, impossibly, the stars responded. A glowing image bloomed: a towering tree with wide, sheltering branches. It shimmered, alive with magic—and then, just as quickly, vanished.
He moved my hand again, guiding it to a new cluster.
"Here are their daughters dancing—the first tree nymphs. Some were strong and broad, others tall and graceful. And then… there was Willow."
Another vision shimmered into being: a ring of girls dancing, skirts flowing like petals in a breeze. They were laughing, radiant, like a dream from long ago. I gasped as they faded.
"Willow is my mother," Cassi said quietly. Then he corrected himself. "Was. She wasn't strong like the others. Or tall. She was the youngest. The quietest. The most gentle."
An image of her formed—soft and pale, with tears streaming down her face. She glowed less brightly than the others. Then, she too disappeared.
I turned my head to look at him. Tears tracked silently down his cheeks.
Carefully, painfully, I shifted onto my side and reached out to wipe them away. He didn't stop me, but he also pretended not to notice.
"My mother died when I was young," I whispered.
The crying woman appeared again—fainter this time. I stared up at her.
"I know almost nothing about her," I admitted. "She died giving birth to my sister."
And suddenly, the memory gripped me.
A little girl—me—toddling down a long hallway. Screams tearing through the air, making me shrink inward. A pale-faced doctor rushing past. My feet stumbling on the carpet as I followed him, too young to understand but too curious to stop.
I remember sitting in the doorway, peeking through the crack.
Mother's hair spilled over the bed. Brown. A rich chocolate brown. Not like anyone else's in the house. It was a colour that didn't seem to belong to the decor.
I took in Father standing still beside her, his eyes blank. He had on a formal shirt and jacket, not a hair on his head unruffled despite the agony in the room.
I tried to cover my ears as I watched.
A baby's cry split the air.
"It's a girl," The doctor held the newborn out toward Father, but he didn't move.
"Take it away," he said tonelessly.
The doctor turned and saw me. He gave me a strained but kind smile, then he placed the baby in my arms, and rushed back to the bed where Mother was.
I stared down into her wide hazel eyes. I kissed her forehead.
Behind me, my mother was dying.
I never knew that I was hearing her last breath until she breathed no more. I turned to see the doctor listening for a pulse and shaking his head.
Father never looked back.
I felt the tears come—and suddenly, Cassi's arms were around me, strong and sure. Holding me tightly like he was trying to shield me from the memory itself.
"I just stood there and held Talla," I whispered. "Held her until the servant came. He just stood there."
"Vie…" Cassi murmured into my hair.
"How could he just… let her go?" My voice cracked. "Let us go?"
"Vie," he said again, this time with more urgency.
"The doctor said to the servant if he had been called sooner..." I choked.
He held me tighter. "You know I would never let go of you. Not like that. What he did—it was wicked. If he were here right now…"
He didn't finish. Just cursed under his breath and pulled me closer.
We lay like that, under the stars, saying nothing more. I watched the sky grow brighter with constellations until sleep found me, safe in the shelter of Cassi's arms.