“Varen,” he finally interrupted. The elf paused, looking up at him in surprise. “Er... I couldn’t see any of the orcs in the camp, except for some preparing food. But I would expect they have scouts of their own. Or maybe even another druid. We should be cautious.”
Varen smirked, and somehow Korik was both annoyed and charmed at the same time. “Don’t worry. We’ll be perfectly careful. Just follow my lead, and if I tell you to do something, do it and question me later. Alright?”
That could imply all sorts of things; but Korik only nodded silently, unwilling to press the elf now. He had to trust Varen knew the risks as well as he did—the tricks Varen had shown him to be more stealthy had certainly helped, too. Maybe he was overthinking things.
They set out as the morning sun rose behind the cover of thick, fluffy clouds and bathed the landscape with a pale, cool light. The air was cold against Korik’s skin; not uncomfortably so, but he knew it would have more and more of a bite to it in the coming days. Winter was well and truly beginning now. It made him wonder if this sort of mission was really wise to be attempting, when the days would only grow darker and colder.
He had vague memories of spending the winters of his youth bundled up tightly, tramping through snow or being dragged on a sled, and struggling to sleep with the light of nearby fires that flickered against his closed eyelids, but being too cold for him to move further away. The wandering clans would often hunker down for the worst of the winter in the same place each year, if at all possible; but sometimes an unexpected storm would stop them in an inopportune place. He could remember spending days on end in the same tent, too, as a blizzard raged outside.
He did not miss any of that. As much as he had enjoyed being out in the wilderness so far—and even that was questionable at times—he had grown more than accustomed to city life and was eager to return to it before the snows began to fall.
When they had traveled a few miles, Varen paused and asked Korik to check again, to see if the camp had moved or was lingering where they were. Korik sent his awareness out until he found a little bird perched nearby: a lark that resisted him at first, but then set off into the air. Flying was quicker than the journey on foot, of course, but it was a rather arduous trip for such a small creature. Still, he could see the signs of the camp in the distance, and it did not look like they were any closer to setting out for the day than when Korik had first spied it.
Korik released the lark and reported what he saw to Varen.
“Let’s get a little closer and check again to see if they end up traveling today,” Varen sighed, folding his arms across his chest. “Maybe someone’s injured, or they’re just taking a rest day. It would be great if we could figure out for sure...”
From the way he trailed off, Korik could tell what the elf wanted of him, but he shook his head quickly.
“If they have their own druid, it would be too dangerous to spy right in their camp,” he said. “They would notice the presence of any animal, would tell easily it wasn’t behaving naturally... And I’m sure they monitor their own horses often, if they have a druid of their own. Horses are smart enough to remember if a druid finds them. It’s too much of a risk.”
“Alright, alright,” Varen sighed. He didn’t sound entirely disappointed, though, as if he had expected Korik’s answer. “We’ll be careful. With any luck, they’ll still be heading out today, and we won’t have to follow them for long.”
They continued on their way, traveling through rocky hills at the same slow, cautious pace. When there were clusters of trees—after seeing the forests in Aefraya, Korik could hardly call the trees here a forest—they would travel under the cover of their branches; but mostly they were largely out in the open, which made Korik nervous. But Varen seemed unconcerned. He was certainly less chatty than he had been before they’d found the camp, and often Korik could see a glimmer of magic flash across his eyes as he examined their surroundings.
By the afternoon they had traveled as close as Varen said he would risk, near enough that Korik could just make out the occasional distant hint of smoke on the horizon now. It seemed the camp would not be traveling today.
“No fire for us when we’re this close,” Varen sighed. “Thank the gods for magic, at least. Help me gather up some stones to keep warm.”
“Stones?” Korik asked, frowning. Varen laughed, but it was less teasing and more surprised.
“Have you never warmed up some stones to put in your sleeping bag?” he asked. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Having a fire is always nicer. But warm stones will do in these circumstances. And the nights aren’t too terribly cold yet, so we should only need a few each.”
Korik chuckled at the thought of putting rocks in his bedroll, but he supposed the idea was a good one in a pinch. It would be like a hot waterskin placed between his bedsheets in the coldest months, though much less comfortable.
They gathered up a handful of stones. Varen selected ones that were just a bit larger than the palm of his hand, mostly flat and smooth; and Korik watched as Varen squeezed the stone in his hand, filling it with his magic until it warmed to the touch. It would be an hour or two before they would sleep, but they still placed the heated stones in their bedrolls to start warming them now. Their supper was just bread and dried meat—another thing Korik wouldn’t miss when he returned home. Imagining fresh vegetables from the garden, or even just some garlic and onions from the root cellar, nearly made him tear up with longing.
Varen must have noticed his glum expression. He raised an eyebrow before asking,
“What’s on your mind?”
He didn’t exactly want to say to Varen that he just wanted to go home and be done with all this; and some small part of him did sort of like being out here in the wilderness, relishing in the adventure of it all. So he only replied,
“Just wishing for a hot meal.”
Varen smirked. “You and me both. With any luck, it’ll only be a few days of following them, and then once we break off, we can have a fire going all night. Sounds good?”
Korik managed a tiny smile in response. It was a minor comfort, but Varen offering it to him at all made his stomach squeeze, and not with hunger. “Sounds good.”
Korik had feared that if the orc camp remained where it was for any longer, they would almost certainly be discovered. Luckily, the following morning, he spied a flurry of activity in the camp through the eyes of another rock dove. They were preparing to leave.
Once the camp got going, it was relatively simple to track them. Their pace was unhurried, and there were telltale signs of where they had passed through—so many hooves and feet tamping down the dirt or crushing grass underfoot created a pathway through the rocky hills that even Korik could follow without difficulty.
They trailed far behind the camp for a day, then two. Korik watched them from the skies when he could, but now it only told them how quickly the camp was moving and in which direction. The path they left behind was easy enough to follow that Korik was sure Varen would have had no problems keeping up with them without his help. It was Varen who could tell when they needed to linger further back in case of scouts, or when it was safer to draw nearer based on factors Korik would have never considered—things like the surrounding landscape, or the weather, or the time of day.
On the third day, Korik was peering ahead at the camp through a barn owl that had placidly accepted his presence in the faint light of sunrise. He spotted more smoke on the horizon, further out beyond the camp. His heart leapt up into his throat—was this the greater rebel force?
He flew past the orcs that they were following to try to gather any information about the larger camp. The more he could tell Varen, the more he would be satisfied with watching from afar, and the quicker they could start heading back—maybe even today. A rush of emotion surged through his chest at the thought, surprising him with a tinge of sadness that lurked beneath the relief and anticipation of going home.
