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Winter was approaching, and with that came a semi-annual responsibility that Brassius never took lightly, though the burden wasn't all that great. Not really. In fact, he was rather fond of doing it most times.
His parents’ old home – the one he grew up in, before they retired in another small town just outside of Paldea in the Kalosian countryside – was still held in his family’s name. Between him and his older sister, who lived across the straight in Galar with her family, they split responsibilities for its upkeep.
They’d been doing it for years. When his sister would come, she’d bring her kids for a long summer stay. They liked it here in Paldea where it was warm and sunny, and the chance of rain was low. And when his parents wanted to come visit, they’d settle in their old place for a few weeks, or months, whatever they wanted. Retirement had been good to them for many years now.
But between the last frost, and the first warmup of the spring, as long as no one was staying then it was more or less his burden to bear.
He’d take a weekend here and there to check in, make sure the water was still running, the gas wasn’t left on while no one was around, and that all the bulbs were working.
It wasn’t too far outside of Cortondo, a private little cottage in the rolling hills of the south province that in some ways resembled his own in Artazon. It was in the endless tiers of green fields and the rows and rows of olive trees where he would play with the Smoliv and the shy Petlil as a child.
And when he had played too far from home, a little too close to the rocky shoreline, he remembered there was a little cave where the pokemon would take shelter when the weather turned for the worse.
He knew it well, because they led him there to stay with them to wait it out.
He’d eventually get home, still soaked down to the bone and his parents would be wracked with worry, but thanks to the little grass pokemon who befriended him, he would be safe.
And when he started getting art supplies, when he as old enough to start indulging in a hobby that would one day become his livelihood and his obsession, he’d plan around how much he could carry with him on his journeys, when the scent of rain was in the air hours and hours before it would come.
Every time he went back to his parents house, and that misty current of a sea-laden rain was carried on the breeze, he thought of that little place that only he and the wild pokemon of the grasslands knew.
He hadn’t even told Hassel about it. There was no real reason to tell him. Not for the years and years they’d been together.
It simply would never be relevant to bring up.
But it was one of those chilly Saturday mornings in late November, after saying the night in the old master bedroom – his old bedroom had long since been turned into a storage space, then back into a kids room for his sister’s little ones when they stayed - and making himself and Hassel some coffee and allowing his pokemon all to roam about, he got that itch to go for a nice, long walk.
“I’ll come with you, if you don’t mind,” Hassel said, getting up and stretching in his long morning robe. “It would be a wonderful day for a picnic.”
Brassius hummed and smiled.
He thought he had caught that metallic scent of a cold autumn rain, but it left as soon as it had arrived. It fleetingly tickled a little place in his brain where he kept fond memories of innocent days long gone by.
The morning was sunny and bright, and the clouds above large and billowing against the cerulean sky. Crisp and clear.
“I think that can be arranged,” he replied. He slid his arms casually into the folds of Hassel’s robes, invading the tall blonde’s personal space in a way that was expected between them. He stood on his slippered toes and gave his partner a kiss just on the edge of where lips met with a soft cheek. “I think the basket is still in the storage closet. What were you thinking for snacks?”
Hassel wrapped his robed arms around Brassius’s back, and looked down with an expression that could only be described as adoring.
“Allow me to surprise you. Why don’t you go get ready?”
The blonde kissed the top of Brassius’s head and released him so that they could both prepare for the day.
An hour later, after a long hot shower and tossing on casual clothes, Brassius took the rare opportunity to let his public persona evaporate for a more natural look. He tossed on an old pair of brown slacks and walking shoes that he hadn’t worn in years. He put on a newer forest green turtleneck and an ochre corduroy jacket. He didn’t even style his hair, opting to let the waves flow naturally.
Hassel had his usual gray slacks but threw on a fashionable plaid jacket over a burnt sienna jumper. He pulled his hair back in a modest ponytail, prepared to keep his flyaways out of his face as the open fields were shockingly windy, but they fell to the side anyway and framed his jawline elegantly.
The picnic basket was filled to the brim for brunch. A red blanket to lay on, utensils, two glasses and a thermos of water alongside a small bottle of wine, bread and sandwich supplies that they’d picked up in Cortondo, and a pastry to share that was gifted to them by Katy who caught them as they meandered near Patisserie Soapberry.
They walked side by side through the open fields and down the winding paths leading through steep, sloping, rocky hills. The wind whipped around the brush and the trees and the tall grass, but it was no deterrent.
The distant scent of rain was picking up, even though the clouds only collected a little on the horizon over the sea off in the distance. Even Hassel noticed it, after they’d meandered for about forty-five minutes on the trail.
“Why, I can’t quite place it, but it feels like it’s going to rain.”
Brassius nodded knowingly. He threw a smile over his shoulder at his companion as he took a step off the well-trodden trail and into the grass.
“I think you’re right, my dear,” the artist said, hinting at Hassel to follow. Dolliv was at his side, excited about the little journey they were on. “Which is why I’m going to show you a little something.”
Hassel looked down at Gible, who shrugged but, mostly unperturbed, hobbled off in pursuit of the grass type trainer.
“Show me what, exactly?”
“You’ll see – at least, if I remember precisely where it is.”
“Brassie, that gives me little consolation—”
“Don’t be slow, now. Come along!”
Hassel smirked a little even as he was growing slightly frustrated, and a little hungry. Time to pick up the pace! When on a mission, his beloved would not be dissuaded.
And usually those passions created beautiful and memorable results, so the dragon trainer had no option but to obey and follow whatever unmarked path Brassius was leading him down.
There was a youthful sprig in the artist’s step as he guided everyone through the browning grasses and past the yellow-orange trees of the Paldean late autumn. Tiny grass and bug type pokemon scurried away as the humans and their own pokemon approached, though a few of the Petlil peeked around corners at the sight.
Something about Dolliv and Brassius’s demeanor gave the shy little things reason to pause. And Brassius had to withhold the temptation to bring out his beautiful little Lilligant to charm them into following.
But a few of them were following, anyway.
In ten short minutes, the wind picked up, and the skies turned gray. How quickly the weather can change so close to the sealine. Why it wasn't much different from Artazon, though it was just the slightest bit warmer on that side of the peninsula.
“How much further is it?”
They were passing a tiny, shimmering lake, which meant Brassius knew they were in the right place.
“Just up ahead. Come on, we can set everything up inside!”
“Inside?”
“You won’t be disappointed, Hass. It’s just past those rocks. You see that tree and the boulder up ahead? That way. Hurry!”
It seemed that the clouds were chasing them, but they managed to be a few steps ahead. The Petlil trailed them to a vine-covered opening in the ledge overlooking the little lake. Brassius confidently pulled back the vines, crunchy autumn leaves underfoot, and led everyone inside.
And as Gible and Hassel stumbled in behind them, Brassius let the vines fall like a curtain, and the cold November rain started tumble down from the clouds and onto the earth.
The cave wasn’t particularly big, but it still felt spacious. There were already a handful of pokemon inside, a little afraid but mostly curious of the humans and the trained pokemon at their side.
Somehow, without the cold wind from outside, the cave seemed ever so slightly warmer – and now also drier – than the world outside of it. Yet somehow, even with the dark overhanging clouds and the downpour of rain, the walls seemed to glow and the place was awash in a dull luminescence.
The ceiling at its height was about twice as tall as Brassius was, and was deep enough to spread the picnic blanket out three times over.
Dolliv went in and spoke gently to the Pokemon at the back of the cave along with the Petlil that had followed them in. Gible stood back and watched for a moment before pattering along as well, grumbling something low. The squat little dragon was used to wild pokemon being wary of him – all tame dragons faced this judgment, as they were technically at the top of the food chain in the wild.
It was at this point that, to some surprise, Brassius released Arboliva, Lilligant, and Sudowoodo. The cave seemed a little smaller for their presence, but immediately they recognized where they were and turned back cheerfully toward the artist.
Almost immediately they made a cacophony of noise at him, which made him laugh – a joyful, childish sound.
Hassel found himself very confused between the sound of the pouring rain just behind him, the picnic basket in his hands, and the intriguing sight before him.
“Yes, it has been a while, hasn’t it?” Brassius said cheerfully to his beloved pokemon, taking Arboliva’s leafy arms in his hands. “Do you remember the last time we were in the secret base?”
Dolliv stayed at his side, looking up, confused. She was a little bit too young to know what was going on; Gible, who was old but definitely out of this loop, put a tiny had on her shoulder in mutual comfort.
“Secret base?”
Hassel quietly spoke the question, mostly to himself. But of course, Brassius’s keen ears picked up on it, and the artist spun around.
“Why yes, a secret base!” he proclaimed, arms outspread enthusiastically. “Do you see the pokemon back there? All the darling little Petlil? They’re here hiding from the rain. When I was a boy, this is where my sweet Lilligant led me – well, along with Arboliva and Sudowoodo, back when they were all very small, indeed – whenever it was about to rain and I had hiked too far from home to make it back in time.”
Hassel found himself smiling along. So that’s what it was.
“Ah! I see!” said the blonde, feeling a sweet bubbling in his heart at the sight. “A nostalgic place you could be safe in, so far away from your home. How positively wonderful. I’m envious of you, Brassie."
Brassius pivoted slightly to glance briefly at his partner, who had started to sniffle with a little smile. The artist knew better than to try to sway the tears from falling, but still he felt a bit of aching in his heart knowing why it was happening at all.
He dared not ask if Hassel had any little places to run and hide away from the world in his youth, because he already knew the answer to that question.
So instead he swooped back and threw an arm firmly around Hassel's waist. He stepped up on his toes to plant a warm but playful kiss on the man's wet cheek. Then he leaned in deviously to whisper –
“You're the first person I've ever brought here, you know.”
A faint blush spread across the dragon trainer’s cheeks, particularly on the side where Brassius’s lips grazed his ear faintly.
“G--Goodness, Brassie. I’d have thought you'd bring all your old lovers out here back in the days of your youth. To the middle of nowhere, for a little privacy.”
Brassius huffed and took a half step back.
“You wound me with such an accusation! There's only ever been one that's been worth bringing around."
“Is that right?”
The artist tapped firmly on Hassel’s chest.
“There was never anyone serious before I met you. You know this. Besides, this place doesn’t give anyone much in the way of privacy…”
He waved vaguely in the direction of all the pokemon scattered about the cave, some looking up expectedly and others just hovering around.
A clap of thunder broke through the moment, startling all the little pokemon and causing them to run either further towards the back of the cave, or around Arboliva and Lilligant.
Hassel pulled Brassius along with him a few steps further inside.
Gible ran up and grabbed at the picnic basket, which had been dangling from Hassel’s arm like an accessory. The dragon trainer looked down at the squat little dragon – his senior, really – with a chuffed expression.
“Alright, alright, I can see you are hungry. Let’s set up right here!”
His booming voice pierced through the sounds of the sudden downpour and the rolling thunder, captivating the Petlil and causing a few of them to peek out from behind their hiding spots.
The humans distracted the nervous pokemon with the highly deliberate clinking and clattering of dishes, the laying of the long blanket, the uncorking of the water bottle and the wine, and the placement of an array of sandwich materials.
Not one to overlook a detail, Hassel had of course packed a number of berries, enough to satisfy a few dragon pokemon, and so he knew there would be enough to go around.
Dolliv and Lilligant eagerly rolled a few to the wild pokemon at the back of the cave. Gible handed one to a particularly brave Hawlucha, who shared it with its especially shy Hatenna companion.
Eventually, once both humans sat down and properly started to pick at their sandwich toppings, the pokemon started to gather around them. Arboliva brushed the handful of Petlil gently toward the blanket, and Brassius held out a hand to them with a few berries he’d sliced into tiny pieces.
“Why yes, these are for you, little darlings. Come, you can eat with us.”
After only a brief minute of hesitation, even the Hatenna came out to pick at a berry slice taken from his hand. The rain didn’t bother them now.
Hassel, charmed as ever, simultaneously observed the sight while throwing together ingredients into a sandwich that his easily distracted partner would eat.
And in a little while, the two artists, each with half a glass of wine, did a small cheers.
“Salud!”
The pokemon gathered comfortably around them, covering most of the picnic blanket with ease.
“My dear, would you mind passing the—”
“It would be my pleasure—”
“Could I have a little more of--?”
“Here, let me help—”
And so they passed the time. Hassel even pulled out his rotom phone and started playing music, a soothing playlist that suited the atmosphere – he had curated many different ones, often for use in class while his students were working on various projects - even as the skies outside started to brighten and the clouds began to part.
But the rain was still falling, and they sat closer together. Hassel draped an arm comfortably around his partner’s shoulders, and Brassius leaned in against him.
It was just as peaceful as their morning coffee had been, if a little more intimate.
As the pokemon interacted with each other, and a few Petlil took a nap against Dolliv, the men began to speak to each other in low voices.
“So tell me,” Hassel began inquisitively, “What did you used to do out here when it rained a while? I imagine it must have been rather boring.”
Brassius sighed.
“Oh, it was boring the first few times it happened. There's not much to explore in here, as you can see, but I scoured every bit I could reach. Eventually I planned ahead and brought art supplies. Nothing extravagant, mostly just sketchbooks, but it was enough.”
“And you really never brought a single soul out here? Not a friend? Your sister?”
Hassel looked right down into Brassius’s gray eyes when he asked, so the artist could tell the man wasn’t teasing, but genuinely curious.
He blinked, thinking about it seriously, then shrugged his shoulders.
“I suppose I never did. None of my friends from school or even from in town were terribly interested in hiking so far from home. We were too young to do much pokemon battling at the time, so they preferred playing where it was safe.”
Hassel chuckled lightly. “And you didn't, of course. Sounds just like you. You've always been just a little bit different from the rest, haven't you?”
“Look who's talking!”
“I didn't really get to choose where or when I could play, but I don't suppose I would've chosen to walk towards danger; Not if I could help it.”
Brassius nudged the taller man playfully.
“Danger! Hah! Don't be silly. It's only a little bit wild, a little untamed, but that's simply how nature is. And look at where it took me.”
“What if you'd run into something dangerous out here, though? Have you ever?”
“Oh, Hass… You sound like my mother!”
“Don’t say that! It's just in my nature to make sure you're safe, Brassie!”
“Well I survived, didn't I?” Brassius said with a dramatic wave of his hand. “Listen, I suppose you could say I did run into some dangerous things out here before, but that's the fun part—”
Hassel shifted where he sat, but the arm around Brassius’s shoulders tightened visibly.
The artist couldn't really complain that he was loved, even as Hassel defensively quipped -
“—How is that fun?”
Brassius pat the dragon trainer’s chest soothingly.
“You might say… it's not quite as exciting as the night I saw Black Rayquaza, but it sure was exciting when I was six or so. I’m actually hoping to see it again once the rain lets up just a bit more. It doesn't happen every time, but whenever there's a good strong rain like this… we’ll just have to wait a few more minutes and see.”
Hassel looked down, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.
“Something exciting that happens when the rain lifts…”
“I'm certain you'll like it.”
Hassel hummed as he leaned his head against Brassius’s. The blonde was perplexed, the gears in his head visibly turning as he pondered the mystery.
Thankfully, they didn't have to wait too much longer, as the clouds had parted just enough from the sea winds that the wild pokemon who had eaten with them in the cave started to leave. One by one, they slid past the humans and their partner pokemon, and quietly slipped through the gaps in the vines at the entranceway.
Brassius stood excitedly, jumping up suddenly to gently part the vines and peek through.
Hassel stood much more slowly, stretching his back and then his legs as he regained his bearings.
But Brassius was bouncing on his heels suddenly. The small artist turned with a wide smile, the kind that Hassel couldn't help but replicate whenever he saw it.
“I think I see them, Hass! A bit hard to see with the tree in the way, but…” he said in a loud whisper. “Come on! But be quiet or you'll scare them.”
“Them?”
“Come look!”
Hassel found himself being pulled by the hands to peer out where Brassius had just been standing. The vines were wet but still brittle, uncomfortably cold to the touch.
But through the amber and sienna leaves of the trees, he could see what his partner had found so alluring.
And it was a lovely and surprising sight.
The small lake that they had to pass by in order to reach the cave was now filled with Goomy, and a handful of Sliggoo. The cold mist over the water after the rain had surely called them there.
There were dozens of them, little purple dragons meandering about aimlessly as a herd, or perhaps a few herds gathered together. Many dragon types were loners, but not these ones. And everything glistened with a silvery sheen from the rain and the mist so beautifully that Hassel had to cover his mouth to stifle a gasp.
“There's so many..!” He grinned as he watched them. Brassius leaned up against his arm to see. “I can see why you might have been frightened, Brassie. You might assume that accidentally frightening them might cause them to stampede, or even to attack! But Goomy are actually quite gentle…”
“Oh, I was never frightened of them,” Brassius said, clinging warmly to Hassel's arm now. “They were always exciting to see like this. I just didn't know how to talk to dragon types… not back then, anyway.”
Hassel smiled down warmly. His heart felt full.
“You know how to talk to them now well enough. Would you like to go introduce yourself?”
But Brassius took a step back, putting his hands in front of his face in a defensive posture. In spite of what he had said, he was clearly nervous about the idea.
“I’m not interested in such things, Hass. I think it's enough to observe… I am already envisioning a new statue to commemorate this occasion…! I've already come up with a name for it!”
“What would that be?”
Brassius laughed as he shook his head and wagged his finger.
“That—would spoil the surprise!”
“Of course. And we wouldn't want that, now would we?”
“Perish the thought!”
While Brassius and his pokémon turned back to clear away the plates and the remaining supplies, folding up the blanket and placing everything back in the picnic basket, Hassel snuck out of the cave with Gible at his side.
Eventually the grass types and their trainer realized the other two had left already. And peering out from behind the thick trunk of the tree, catching stray drops of water caught in the branches above, the artist could see Hassel and Gible at the lakeside. They were surrounded on all sides by inquisitive Goomy.
The Sluggoo had stood back defensively at first, but were already warming up to the dragon tamer and his short senior. Gible stood back a little, unwilling to get goo on his paws if he could help it.
Ideas swarmed in Brassius’s head, the kinds of art he could make from such a scene. Goomy Cups and Gible Saucers and a Sluggoo Creamer pourer and a Goodra Kettle and Sunflora Spoons. A vase with a Goomy pattern. A flowerpot with Sluggoo handles. Sunflora faces on watery blue tiles.
The loud sounds of Hassel's distinct laughter broke the enchanted artist out of his endless visions and back to reality.
Hassel was having fun, but playing in the wet grass meant his slacks were now soaked, and his jacket and his hands were covered in Goomy goo, and now all Brassius could think about was how cold his partner would be facing the brisk, cold winds back to his parents' old home.
But his thoughts betrayed him again, and returned to art.
…Lacquer. Encasing everything in a pale lavender lacquer, or a Goomy figurine made entirely out of blown glass…
“Ah, yes. That's brilliant. How truly avant-garde!” Said the artist aloud to himself as he cautiously pulled out his Rotom Phone to snap a few pictures of the sight. The smile on the blonde man’s face as he played with the joyful little Goomy was worth capturing, and would end up as part of his own private collection.
Shared memories. Now that the little cave wasn't his secret base alone, he had a sudden need to preserve this feeling.
It was gratitude and elation. Happiness.
Hassel noticed him standing there snapping photos and called him over, but Brassius continued to stand back.
“I think I’d like to keep my clothes away from all that—oh, dear. I think that one’s stuck in your hair.”
The blonde twisted around and pulled a particularly mellow looking little dragon off of his back with a quick, “Ah! That's not food!”
It made a gurgling sound back at him as it was placed back on the ground.
Gible, a few paces away, grumbled a few words that must have implied “Alright, it's cold, it's time to get moving, lad.” Because Hassel stood up and shook off as much of the goo as he could with a, “yes, yes, I'm coming,” in reply.
And the wind picked up around the curve of the rocky grasslands, and suddenly he felt the bitter chill on his face. He scrunched his nose cutely.
“You've got to be freezing, Hass,” Brassius chided bemusedly as the dragon tamer stepped away from the crowd of tiny, sticky dragons with a small wave of goodbye, like a child parting with new friends. “Can you wash any of that off in the water? We can carry your jacket on the basket and throw the blanket around your shoulders in the meantime so you don't catch a cold.”
Hassel laughed as he slid the now very gummed up jacket off of his shoulders, wiping his hands on the insides like it was a towel. Meanwhile, Brassius unrolled the blanket and Gible shooed away two Goomy who attempted to get too close.
“Their residue can't be washed off with water. In fact, it becomes more viscous when in contact. Something they love, as you can see!”
“It seems you like it fine, as well. Just show me how to clean it when we get back.”
“Oh, no, I'll do it myself. But I can still show you, if you like. It's not far off from cleaning up an oil spill...”
“Turpentine?”
“Not oil paint—”
“Ah, oh, yes. I think I know what you mean. Yes. I can probably find something for it…”
Hassel chuckled quietly under his breath. It was rare he was able to throw his clever partner for a loop, and he enjoyed watching the man’s eyes shift as he thought about a solution to the problem.
Brassius, wrapped up in these thoughts while also moving mechanically, reached up and pat at a swath of sticky blonde hair with the picnic blanket before helping to wrap the thing around Hassel's shoulders. But the dragon trainer quickly took over the job, enveloping himself in it like a cocoon.
And then Hassel snuck up quickly and wrapped Brassius in the blanket, too.
“Ah!!” Brassius flailed slightly, complaining but with no meanness behind it. “Your hands are still sticky!”
“It’s terrible, isn’t it? I suppose you’re stuck with me now.”
“Hass, that’s…”
Hassel only held on tighter and leaned forward to kiss his fussy partner twice on the cheek. They remained there for a few beats, until Brassius burst out laughing. A rare sound that the blonde cherished.
So he leaned in and said -
“Unfortunate to be caught in such a sticky situation, isn’t it?”
Brassius groaned.
“Oh, which of your coworkers is teaching you these things?”
“Hmm,” Hassel said, contemplating it while cheek to cheek. “That would be Mister Salvatore after Mister Saguaro brought in a few extra sticky cinnamon rolls made by his freshman class.”
“I would expect better puns from the languages department!”
“I’ll let them all know your grievances, Brassie,” another kiss, this time on the top of the head, and a squeeze for good measure before finally releasing the shorter man from his grip. “But the fun must end sometime. Let’s get going before it decides to rain again.”
Gible stopped them this time, just before they set back off on the trail home. The little dragon tugged on Hassel’s pant leg and pointed as best he could behind him.
The pair turned around to the relatively expected sight.
Most of the crowd of Goomy had returned their attentions to each other, but one had separated from the crowd and had come up behind them with some great effort. It looked up sadly and made a little sound.
The men glanced at each other and smiled. It was obvious what was to happen.
Hassel knelt down, looking rather princely in spite of the blanket, or perhaps because it draped behind him a little like a cloak. He looked down at the little lavender dragon with a welcoming smile.
It was the one who had chewed on his hair. The silly thing still had a strand sticking out of its mouth, which Hassel removed with a laugh.
“Would you like to come with me?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “We might not be back to see your clan, you know. Can you handle going on such a big journey away from them?”
He asked such a serious question with the gentlest voice that the Goomy danced about merrily in reply.
“Then I welcome you to mine.”
And so, with no additional fanfare, Hassel pulled out a spare pokeball and captured it. He cradled it between his hands for a moment, like he was keeping an egg warm, before securing it at his side.
Brassius couldn’t help but smile at the exceedingly simple exchange. Hassel didn’t capture pokemon in the same way he did, not by a longshot, but there was something extraordinary in the way it felt so personal, so very loving.
He extended a hand to help his partner stand up, and Hassel took it. This time, Brassius didn’t complain when it felt like honey sticking their palms together. He wasn’t about to let go so quickly.
“I’m so glad you decided to come out with me today,” the artist admitted with a fond smile. “Now I have even more ideas. I can’t wait to get back and document them, design some mock-ups. You’ve given me ample material – ever the inspiring muse.”
Hassel blushed and held tight to Brassius’s hand. He was so used to hearing those words, but they still made him feel giddy.
“You might be up for work, but my first priority will be another shower.”
“Then I will get the fireplace going. I bet you're chilled to the core.”
Gible said something, interrupting the conversation with a low but happy grumble.
“You’d like that, too, wouldn’t you?” Hassel smiled down at his ever-present companion. “We dragons are weak to the cold.”
Gible replied again, with a wave of a tiny hand.
“Baxcalibur can come out when we're back. He might enjoy the weather, but he's not really made for long walks.”
“Though a little exercise might do him some good,” Brassius interjected.
But Hassel shook his head. “Maybe when we're back on the main path.”
The wind picked up again, the men huddled together a little more closely as they began their journey back to the old cottage.
Brassius couldn't help but think of how arduous the journey back had been in his youth. How weak and sluggish he had often been, but he didn't know why yet, because he was always pushing his own limits to the point of exhaustion. His pokémon had been too little to carry him back, but they did keep him motivated.
Or perhaps it was that now he had someone holding his hand and helping him along, the old struggles seemed so imposing by comparison.
How had he ever managed it? Living so long without his beautiful muse at his side?
He laced their fingers tightly together once they got back to the main path; Hassel squeezed back, and began to hum and sing a little something on the way.
A song that, years and years ago, Hassel had made just for him. A humble little tune that always brought them both back to a simpler time; though it could be said that things became simpler over time, too.
It was nice to share little secrets together.
These little things made even a day’s walk into a precious memory.