Cleaning and cooking the two quails was quick enough work; but it was snowing in earnest when they were finished, and the wind kept blowing Korik’s hair in his face annoyingly. Finally, they retreated into the den, and Korik pulled the wooden panels as flush as he could against the cave.
Then, with his hands pressed into the earth, he pulled it upward. The soil responded to his magic and rose in a neat row to close up the gaps and bolster the panel, sealing them inside. It was pitch black for a moment, then Varen murmured an incantation under his breath, and the cave brightened with a soft, warm light. The elf was grinning over at him as they were illuminated once again, looking relieved.
“Let’s eat these while they’re hot,” Varen said, handing one of the skewered quail over to him. Korik took it, and they ate in silence for a moment, the sound of the wind picking up outside the only noise between them. But this was the best they could manage, Korik thought; and all things considered, he was feeling better about their chances now than he had been just a day ago. After the downward spiral his thoughts had taken, even this dire situation felt like an improvement.
“Well,” Varen sighed when he was done, wiping his hands. “Guess we’re in it for the long haul now.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Korik
Theyhadbeenhunkereddown in the cave for a few hours, and Korik was filled with regret at ever having agreed to travel with Varen on this ridiculous mission. He could have been warm and safe in his own home right now, yet here he was: just a few uncomfortable feet away from the elf, with nothing to do and nothing to say, for an indeterminate length of time. Death might have been a better option.
Varen had tried to talk with him at first, and Korik had gone along with it for a little while; but he only had so many things to say, and eventually the conversation had trailed off. Then Varen had busied himself with adjusting and re-adjusting his bedroll, which he was now sitting on, humming softly to himself as he brushed his hair. Korik sat on his own bedroll, and despite his best efforts not to stare, was mostly watching Varen.
The elf paid him no mind, though, as he set down his comb and braided his hair. It was a style of braid Korik had only ever seen elves wear–starting at his crown, but pulling all his hair back as the braid traveled down, leaving no loose pieces. His fingers deftly pulled all the strands into the motion, while still holding the braid itself tightly. Each weft was incorporated into the length and pulled flush against his skull until it reached the nape of his neck, where it was all pulled into one braid that he quickly completed. That he could do such a careful, even plait without a mirror was rather impressive in its own way.
They had nothing to do but talk, and he had been trying to push himself lately, so he forced himself to ask, “How do you do that?”
“Hm?” Varen asked, looking over at him in surprise. “What, this?”
“That… style of braid,” Korik said, already feeling self-conscious. “I haven’t seen it before.”
Varen grinned. “They do call it an elven braid, you know. Just keeps everything nice and compact. I figured this would be the best way to keep it clean and out of my face, since we don’t exactly know how long we’ll be stuck in here.”
“I see,” Korik said. But he knew that such a remark alone wouldn’t keep the conversation going. He had to get better at talking when they had nothing else to do. “It’s not like a bath, but we could always just, you know... magic ourselves clean.”
Varen chuckled, then wrinkled his nose. “I know. That’s a last resort, though. I hate using magic instead of a bath. Always leaves my skin feeling itchy.”
“You just have to be gentler about it,” Korik replied, and Varen grinned again.
“Maybe you can show me how,” he replied. Korik nodded, feeling heat rising in his face, as he tried to think of how to respond. But then Varen added, “I can show you how to do this kind of braid, if you’d like. Or I can braid it for you, for now.”
His hair had been blown all over his face earlier, he thought. If he needed it out of his eyes, he usually tied it back in a simple ponytail, but mostly he just left it loose. Even when it was in his face, he often preferred it that way, like it was an extra layer of separation between him and the rest of the world.
But it was an interesting-looking braid, and it was kind of Varen to offer, so he nodded despite his trepidation. “I... Yes. Please. Thank you.”
Varen’s smirk softened into a more genuine smile, and he gestured for Korik to come sit before him. He was too tall to stand up straight anywhere in the cave, so he carefully crossed the space between them and sat cross-legged in front of Varen, facing away from him.
“I’ll brush your hair, too. I saw how the wind was messing it up,” Varen said, his voice low and soft. It sent a shiver running down Korik’s spine. But it was just because they were closer now, only inches apart from each other. Right?
He nearly flinched at the feeling of the comb tugging at his hair. Varen started brushing through, near the ends, working out the knots, and moving up closer to his scalp. Korik couldn’t remember the last time anyone might have touched his hair. Maybe as a child.
When the comb brushed against the nape of his neck, Korik had to stifle the low sound that threatened to rumble up from his chest. It felt—well,good, sending soft tingles racing up and down his spine with each brushstroke. He closed his eyes, clamping his mouth shut tight. Despite his embarrassment, he didn’t pull away.
When the comb ran smoothly through the length of his hair from root to end, Varen put the comb aside and used his fingers to gather three sections at the crown of Korik’s head.
“It can be a little tricky to figure out the right thickness of each section and when to add them,” Varen remarked, as he started to braid. “But it’s simple once you get the hang of it. I’ll just do it for you now, but I can teach you to do it yourself next time.”
Korik nodded, then froze, feeling the motion pull his hair out of Varen’s hands. But the elf only laughed and started again, the light touch of his fingers in Korik’s hair like tiny thrills of electricity. Korik didn’t trust himself to speak, so he said nothing, and remained motionless as Varen set about braiding his hair.
The elf’s hand rested for a moment on the nape of his neck, the touch lingering for a brief second—more than enough to send Korik’s heart racing. Then Varen’s fingers smoothed the underside of Korik’s hair to gather it all neatly, and the sensation was utter bliss. His hand lingered at the nape of Korik’s neck again, but this time the touch was so welcome that Korik couldn’t bring himself to wonder why the elf was moving so slowly, when he had braided his own hair so quickly.
Varen’s fingers brushed through first one side of his skull, then the other, braiding in careful, even sections. Even when he pulled the sections tight to keep the braid firm, the tugging on Korik’s scalp wasn’t painful—hadn’t it been painful when his hair had been braided or tied as a child? The entire process seemed to go on far longer than it had taken when he was watching Varen, yet was still over all too soon.
“Korik,” Varen said, his voice soft. “Look at me.”
Korik turned. They looked at each other for a moment, then Varen smiled—Korik flushed and glanced away, embarrassed to have so readily obeyed.
