Chapter Four - Making it Work

They made it to the edge of Millbrook without further incident, though Morrigan caught several curious glances directed their way. Word had definitely spread about the strange northern cousin, but thankfully it seemed to be the kind of mild gossip that would fade once something more interesting happened.

"That went better than I expected, but worse than I hoped," Morrigan said once they were safely on the forest path.

"Did it?" Cassiel shifted the bundle of bedding in his arms. "I felt like I was failing some sort of test I didn't understand."

"Welcome to dealing with people," Morrigan said dryly. "It's all tests you don't understand, and half the time they don't understand them either."

Soot padded contentedly beside them, occasionally wandering off to investigate interesting scents before returning to their side. The familiar rhythm of the forest - bird calls, rustling leaves, the soft sound of their footsteps on the worn path - helped ease the tension that had built up during their time in the village.

The simple act of walking with no distractions, being able to enjoy the fresh air and nature in its purest form was something Cassiel hadn't gotten to enjoy yet. The walk to the city had Cassiel plagued with anxiety and intrusive thoughts, but the walk back was free of such nuisances.

He liked it. It let him order his increasingly frustrating thoughts about his new situation.

"Morrigan," Cassiel said after they'd walked in comfortable silence for several minutes.

"What?"

"Thank you. For... all of it. The story about northern cousins, stepping in when that merchant got aggressive, helping with the measurements." He paused. "I know I'm not the easiest person to cover for and I would have never thought to come up with a story like that."

Morrigan was quiet for a moment, considering her response. "You're not that bad," she said finally. "A little obvious, maybe, but not bad."

"High praise from someone who once told me I stand like I'm about to take flight."

"You do stand like that. But you're getting better," Morrigan allowed, turning away and kneeling down at a tree stump.

The mushrooms she had planted there a while ago were doing fine, now about as big as her balled fist. It was still a nice white colour and springy. Even in this unfamiliar area, it seemed to strive.

Cassiel set the big bundle of cloth down before finally pulling off his cloak with a sigh. It felt good to finally pull off the restrictive covering. "That's a mushroom, isn't it? I didn't know any grew here."

"They grow everywhere. Well, these particular mushrooms don't- that's my work," Morrigan explained, standing back up. "You don't usually notice them because they often grow in shady spots or out of the way. I bought some off of a merchant and planted them here as they should be edible."

Cassiel crouched down to examine the pale fungus more closely, careful not to disturb it. "You cultivate them? That's... actually quite clever. Like having a pantry scattered through the forest."

"More reliable than hunting, and easier than hauling supplies from town every few days," Morrigan said, brushing dirt from her hands. "Though I should probably harvest this one soon before something else decides it looks appetizing."

She produced a small knife from her belt and carefully cut the mushroom at its base, wrapping it in a piece of cloth before tucking it into her pack. The casual efficiency of the motion spoke to long practice.

"Is that how you've been managing out here? Hidden food stores?" Cassiel asked, genuinely curious. The more he learned about Morrigan's self-sufficiency, the more impressed he became.

"Partly. There are berry bushes along some of the less traveled paths, a few fruit trees if you know where to look. The stream has fish, though they're getting warier now that Soot's been practicing his fishing technique." At the mention of his name, the wolf looked up from where he'd been stalking something in the underbrush, tail twitching with barely contained hunting instincts.

Cassiel positively glowed at her explanation, his wings spread fully behind him. It would have been intimidating, if he didn't remind Morrigan of a puppy. "That is very impressive!" he said.

"It's just a product of living alone outside for years," Morrigan deflected, standing up with a grunt. "I know I've been saying it a lot, but it really does come down to experience. You'll learn with time."

Cassiel looked down at Morrigan, his wings still spread behind him and twitching as they caught the drafts of wind drifting through the forest. "How long will it take?"

"I don't know- years?" Morrigan guessed, looking up at Cassiel.

"Years..." He whispered, more to himself than to Morrigan. "Do you really think I'll have years down here?"

Morrigan didn't want to answer honestly. She didn't want to tell him that he was most likely stuck on the mortal plane for the rest of his life, whatever that may be now. Destroying his hopes of returning to all that he knew, his home.

Yet she couldn't bring herself to do it. She couldn't lie to him.

"I think you'll spend a lot of time down here, with me. Ascension is... thought impossible," she admitted, fidgeting under his hopeful stare. "I had a one in a million chance that you crashed into. Maybe your divine heritage could make it easier, but it'd still be extremely expensive and time-consuming."

Cassiel was quiet for a long time, even his wings freezing up to the point where she wasn't sure whether he would start moving again. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, a mere whisper, "Oh... Are- Is it alright if I stay with you for... a lot of time?"

"Of course," Morrigan said, her voice softer than usual. The weight of his question- the vulnerability in it- caught her off guard. She'd been bracing herself for anger or despair, not this quiet acceptance tinged with something that might have been relief.

Cassiel's wings slowly folded back against his shoulders, the tension bleeding out of his posture. "I... I thought you might want me to find somewhere else eventually. I know I'm not exactly convenient to have around."

"Where would you go?" Morrigan asked practically. "You can barely pass for human on a good day, and that's with me running interference. Besides," she added, picking up her pack and settling it more comfortably on her shoulders, "It's good to have someone besides Soot to talk to."

The wolf in question looked up at the sound of his name, tongue lolling out in what might have been amusement.

"He's not much of a conversationalist," Cassiel observed, a hint of his earlier humor returning.

"No, but he's an excellent listener. Never interrupts, never judges." Morrigan started walking again, and Cassiel fell into step beside her, hefting the bundle of bedding. "Though he does have strong opinions about my fishing technique and his space."

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the afternoon light filtering through the canopy in shifting patterns of gold and green. Cassiel seemed more at ease now, his movements less rigid, though Morrigan noticed he kept glancing up at the sky through the gaps in the leaves.

"What's it like?" she asked eventually. "Flying, I mean. Before... all this."

Cassiel was quiet for so long she thought he might not answer. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a wistful quality she hadn't heard before. "Like being part of the wind itself. There's no weight, no boundaries- just endless space and the whole world spread out below you." He paused, adjusting his grip on the bundle. "I never realized how... heavy everything feels down here. The ground, the air, even thoughts seem to weigh more."

Morrigan could hear the longing in his voice, the deep ache of something fundamental that had been taken away. "I'm sorry," she said simply.

"Don't be." Cassiel's response was immediate, almost sharp. "You didn't do this to me. If anything, you've..." He trailed off, seeming to struggle with the words.

"What?"

"Made it bearable," he finished quietly. "I don't think I would have lasted this long without someone willing to help me figure out how to exist like this."

Morrigan felt an unexpected warmth in her chest at his words. She wasn't used to being needed- not really needed, not in a way that mattered. Her life had been solitary for so long that she'd forgotten what it felt like to have someone depend on her for more than just trading goods or casual conversation.

"You're... what I wish my siblings were like..." Cassiel eventually said, oblivious to her internal musings. "You're... direct, brash, but I feel like you care more about people than you'd admit."

Morrigan turned away from him, pretending to study the trees so she could focus on her voice not cracking. "Did- Do you see the other angels as your siblings?"

"I... kind off- it was never personal, they're... coworkers?" He said, his gaze drifting up to the sky. "I guess none of us really wanted to get personal. We talked little and mostly about our duties. I still miss them."

"You don't have to. Miss them- I mean," Morrigan immediately replied, unable to keep the bark out of her voice. "They cast you out, didn't they? You're better off without them."

"No? We angels don't get to cast others out, that's the goddess's choice," he said, glancing down at Morrigan. Her sudden disapproval of the other angels seemed so random that it took him by surprise. "I still miss them, even if our relationships weren't... stellar."

They were the only family he had. How could he not miss them?

Morrigan felt her jaw clench at his gentle correction, though she couldn't quite articulate why his defense of them bothered her so much. Maybe it was the way he said it- with such quiet acceptance, as if their indifference toward him had been perfectly reasonable. As if he deserved to be lonely.

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"Right," she said curtly, quickening her pace slightly. "The goddess's choice."

Cassiel noticed the shift in her tone immediately, his steps faltering for a moment before he caught up. "Morrigan? Did I say something wrong?"

She wanted to snap at him that yes, he had- that his casual dismissal of how he'd been treated, his willingness to excuse angels who had apparently cared so little about him that losing him was just another Tuesday, made her irrationally angry. But she couldn't explain why without revealing more about herself than she was comfortable with.

"No," she said instead, then added more softly, "I just don't understand how you can miss people who didn't seem to care much about you in the first place."

Cassiel was quiet for several steps, considering this. "I suppose... it wasn't that they didn't care. It was more that caring wasn't... encouraged. We had our duties, our purposes. Personal attachments were seen as potential distractions from serving the goddess." He shifted the bundle in his arms, wincing slightly as the rough twine used to bind it together caught on his still-tender wing joints. "But they were still familiar. Still... there. Even if we barely spoke, I knew they existed, that they were part of the same order I belonged to."

"And now you don't belong to anything," Morrigan said, the words coming out harsher than she'd intended.

"No," Cassiel agreed, but his voice held no bitterness. "Now I don't. But I suppose..." He glanced sideways at her, something almost shy in his expression. "I suppose I'm starting to understand what I was missing. What it might be like to have someone actually care what happens to you."

The words hit Morrigan like a physical blow, stopping her in her tracks so suddenly that Soot, who had been padding along ahead of them, turned back with a questioning whine.

"I don't- " she started, then caught herself. Because she did care, didn't she? Somewhere between his first stumbling attempts at appearing human and his genuine gratitude for her help, she'd started actually caring about what happened to him. When had that happened?

"You don't have to say anything," Cassiel said quickly, misreading her hesitation. "I know this whole situation is strange, and you didn't ask for any of it. I just wanted you to know that I'm grateful. For all of it."

Morrigan stared at him- this earnest, damaged creature who thanked her for basic decency as if it were some great gift- and felt something crack open in her chest. How long had it been since someone had looked at her without expecting something in return? Since someone had seen her efforts and acknowledged them?

"You're an idiot," she said finally, but there was no real heat in it.

Cassiel blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sudden shift. "I... what?"

"You're thanking me for not abandoning you in the woods," Morrigan said, shouldering her pack more securely and starting to walk again. "That's not... that's just basic human decency. The bar is on the ground, Cassiel."

"Maybe," he said, falling into step beside her again. "But you still cleared it. That has to count for something."

Morrigan didn't trust herself to respond to that, so she focused on the path ahead, on the familiar rhythm of walking, on anything but the strange warmth spreading through her chest at his words. She sped up to hide her smile.

The rest of the walk back to Morrigans hut was spent in not quite comfortable silence. Cassiel kept wanting to ask her about the ascension ritual he had crashed. It felt too personal, like something he hadn't earned yet.

Once at the hut, Cassiel started arranging the pillows and blankets into a proper nest. He didn't get to test it out before Soot decided to test it for him.

The wolf sat himself down in the middle of the nest and curled up, his tail laid across his front legs.

"I... guess I won't be trying out my nest until tonight," Cassiel deadpanned, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Morrigan was already busy at her workbench, taking half of the copper filings and pouring them into a mortar to pound them into something more uniform. She barely glanced over her shoulder, having already figured out that Soot had claimed the nest, before saying "Give him a bit to nap. Enjoy some alone time, do some hobbies."

"Hobbies?" He asked, walking up next to her and peering over her shoulder into the mortar. "I... don't think I have any."

Morrigan stopped her pounding, letting the pestle thud into the copper and stemming her hands onto the sides of the mortar. "What do you mean, you have no hobbies? What did you do when you had free time?"

"I didn't really have free time," Cassiel said, pointing at the mortar. "What are you doing?"

"I am pounding the copper filings as far down as they will go so that there are no impurities that could alter the effects of my potions," she explained, grabbing the pestle and grinding the copper further down. "It's busywork, but copper dust so pure costs too much to be worth it. I've got all the time in the world after all."

Cassiel watched her methodical grinding with the same fascination he'd shown the village activities. "May I try?"

Morrigan paused, considering. "It's not exactly exciting work."

"Neither was guiding souls to their eternal rest, but there was something... meditative about the routine." He flexed his fingers experimentally. "And I find I need something to do with my hands now. They feel restless when they're not occupied."

She handed over the pestle, their fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. "Keep the rhythm steady. Too fast and you'll send copper dust everywhere."

Cassiel took over the grinding with careful precision, his movements deliberate and measured. The repetitive motion seemed to calm something in him, his shoulders gradually relaxing.

"This is nice," he said after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"Pounding metal filings is nice?"

"Having a task. Something useful to contribute." He glanced at her sideways. "Is this what hobbies are? Finding purpose in small things?"

Morrigan found herself studying his profile as he worked- the concentration on his face, the way his wings shifted slightly with each motion of his arms. "I suppose it could be. Though most people do hobbies for enjoyment, not just purpose."

"What's the difference?"

The question caught her off guard. She opened her mouth to explain, then realized she wasn't entirely sure herself. When had she last done something purely for enjoyment, without some practical goal in mind?

"I... don't know," she admitted finally. "Maybe there isn't always one. How about we try out some hobbies for you?"

Cassiel looked down at her, his gaze thoughtful. "Yeah. Although I don't know how that'd look. Do you have a list we can just... work through?"

Morrigan laughed despite herself- a short, surprised sound that seemed to startle them both. "A list? You want to approach finding joy like it's... inventory management?"

"I approach everything like inventory management," Cassiel said matter-of-factly, still grinding the copper with steady precision. "It's the only framework I have for understanding how things work."

"Right." Morrigan rubbed her forehead, leaving a small smudge of copper dust. "Well, let's see. People carve things, I suppose. Or they collect interesting stones. Some draw, though I'm terrible at it. Others..." She gestured vaguely at the forest around them. "They watch birds, or press flowers, or tell stories."

Cassiel considered this, his rhythm never faltering. "What do you do? When you're not grinding copper or tending mushrooms or keeping fallen angels from making fools of themselves in villages?"

"I don't know." The admission came out more honestly than she'd intended. "I survive. I prepare for whatever might come next. I..." She trailed off, realizing how hollow it sounded when spoken aloud.

"You exist," Cassiel said quietly, and there was no judgment in his voice, only understanding.

"I exist," she agreed. They worked in silence for a moment, the only sounds the grinding of metal and Soot's soft snoring from the nest. Finally, Morrigan spoke again. "Is that what we're doing? Just... existing?"

Cassiel paused in his grinding, looking down at the fine powder they'd created. "I used to think existence had to have a grand purpose. That everything- every action, every moment- had to serve some greater design." He resumed his work, slower now, more thoughtful. "But watching you tend your mushrooms, seeing how you've carved out this life in the woods... maybe existence is just the accumulation of small purposes. Small choices."

"Very philosophical for someone pounding copper dust."

"The repetitive motion helps me think." He smiled slightly. "Though I suppose that's what hobbies are for, aren't they? Giving your hands something to do while your mind wanders."

Morrigan found herself watching his hands as he worked- long fingers, careful and precise despite their obvious unfamiliarity with such mundane tasks. There was something almost reverent in the way he approached even this simple chore, as if he were trying to understand the sacred geometry of ordinary things.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"How strange it is that everything feels heavier here, but also... more solid. More real." He set down the pestle and flexed his fingers, examining the copper dust that had settled into the creases of his skin from when he pounded too hard. "When I was... before- everything felt important but insubstantial. Like I was moving through a dream of purpose. Now even grinding metal feels like it matters."

"Because it does matter. We need pure copper for the healing salves I sell in the village." Morrigan realized how practical she sounded and added, more softly, "But I think I understand what you mean. The weight of things."

"Do you ever wonder," Cassiel said, still studying his hands, "what the point of it all is? Not just our tasks, but... this. Consciousness. The ability to question whether there's a point to questioning the point."

Morrigan turned away, continuing to sort the rest of her ingredients. "Sometimes... but I always end up at something depressing or something that just... doesn't fit the grandiose subject."

"Does it have to be something grandiose? Not everyone needs to save the world or defeat large monsters," he said, hesitating for a moment before wiping his hands clean on his robe. "You help others. Even tiny acts of kindness are important, right?"

Morrigan's hands stilled among the herbs she'd been sorting. "Small acts of kindness," she repeated, the words feeling foreign on her tongue. "I don't think anyone's ever called what I do kind before."

"What would you call it then?"

She was quiet for a long moment, listening to Soot's gentle snoring and the distant rustle of leaves outside. "Practical. Necessary. Self-preservation, maybe- having someone around means I'm less likely to die alone in the woods if something goes wrong."

Cassiel made a soft sound that might have been disagreement. "You could have left me in the forest. You could have pointed me toward the village and wished me luck. You could have let that merchant intimidate me today instead of stepping in." He paused, considering. "Those weren't acts of self-preservation."

"Maybe I just don't like bullies."

"Maybe," he agreed easily. "But you also planted cookies in plain sight for me to find when I was hungry. You shared your blankets before you knew whether I'd be staying. You- "

"Stop." The word came out sharper than she'd intended. Morrigan set down the herb bundle with more force than necessary, sending a few dried leaves scattering across the workbench. "You don't need to... catalog everything. I'm not keeping score."

But Cassiel's gentle persistence had stirred something uncomfortable in her chest- a recognition she didn't want to examine too closely. When had helping him stopped being a temporary inconvenience and become something she actively chose, day after day?

"I'm not keeping score either," Cassiel said quietly. "I'm just... trying to understand what this is. This thing between people who care about each other."

The words hung in the air between them like a held breath. Morrigan felt exposed, as if he'd somehow seen through layers of carefully constructed armor to something vulnerable beneath.

"We barely know each other," she said finally, but even as she spoke the words, she knew they weren't quite true anymore.

"I know you grind your own copper because you don't trust anyone else's quality. I know you talk to Soot like he understands every word, and maybe he does. I know you planted mushrooms along forest paths because you think ahead, always planning for what might be needed." Cassiel's voice was thoughtful, almost wondering. "I know you lie easily to protect people, but you can't seem to lie about your own feelings without your voice going all tight like it is right now."

Morrigan's hand went unconsciously to her throat. "My voice doesn't-"

"It does." There was something almost fond in his observation. "And I know that you're probably going to change the subject now because this conversation is making you uncomfortable."

She opened her mouth to do exactly that, then caught herself and laughed instead- short and rueful. "You're learning entirely too much about people."

"Only about one person," Cassiel corrected. "And only because she's been patient enough to let me."

The warmth in his voice made something flutter in Morrigan's chest, dangerous and unwelcome. She busied herself with measuring out precise amounts of dried herbs, using the familiar routine to steady herself.

"So," she said after a moment, proud of how normal her voice sounded. "Hobbies. We were talking about hobbies."

Cassiel accepted the subject change with grace, though she caught the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Right. The list."

"I've been thinking- maybe we start with something simple. Something you can do with your hands while your mind wanders... Whittling, maybe?"

"Why not? Let's give it a try."