Korik nodded. Varen could practically feel the nerves roiling off him. Might as well get it over with, then.
“Here we go,” he called, then pushed them the rest of the way forward. Gravity took over, and they were descending the slope.
They gained speed rapidly, sending adrenaline pounding through Varen’s body. Despite his own fear, he found himself laughing with the rush and whooping as they turned, the momentum throwing their bodies back and forth. The landscape flew by in a blur, and within moments, they were beyond the course that Varen had mapped out. The path narrowed, and he had to think quickly, throwing out his hands and sending bursts of magic out to help make the sharp turns down narrow pathways.
Every bump and rock in the snow sent them jostling up into the air, making his stomach drop each time—he was acutely aware of how tightly Korik was holding onto him. He couldn’t stop himself from laughing from the rush; but between that and the sound of the makeshift sled grinding against the slick snow, he couldn’t tell if Korik was doing anything other than breathing hard and fast behind him.
“Left!” Korik suddenly exclaimed. True to his word, Varen immediately leaned to the left, the orc leaning with him. They banked hard, and he could see that they were going to crash into a bush. As they went sailing away from the path they were on, he saw what Korik must have spotted from his higher perspective: there was a sharp drop and a rocky outcropping jutting up near it. He’d much rather land in a bush, he thought, just before they plunged into the leaves and sticks.
He shouted as wood stabbed and scratched him, the momentum sending them far into the dense brush. But as the adrenaline faded, he took stock of himself, Korik just beside him. The makeshift sled, which had somehow launched itself into the air, was laying upside-down in the snow nearby. He was a little banged up, but it was only superficial scratches.
“You alright?” he panted, somehow still half-laughing. Korik cautiously pushed himself up—his hair was a mess of twigs and leaves, but he seemed mostly unscathed.
“Yes,” he grunted, wincing. “And you?”
“A little roughed up, but nothing too bad,” he chuckled, shaking his head. He didn’t move until Korik had fully extricated himself from the bush. “Look, we landed in a gem berry bush. Thanks for finding us lunch.”
To his surprise, Korik finally did laugh at that—not a little huff or stifled chuckle, but a genuine laugh, which made him grin all the wider.
“We just had breakfast,” Korik protested, but once they had both gotten to their feet and retrieved the sled, they spent a few minutes filling their pockets with berries. They were not quite ripe, but their food reserves could use the bolstering.
The makeshift sled was looking worse for wear, with some holes already worn into the bottom from the friction. There were several trees around them here, so they looked for some long sticks they could affix to it, creating something a bit more akin to a sleigh than a sled. It took some time, but once the modifications were complete, Korik carried the sled through the snow to a more suitable drop-off point. It was still steep, so each step was careful and measured; they didn’t have to go terribly far, but it took a long time.
“Think we’ll make it to the bottom of the mountain on this?” Varen asked as they settled back into position on the sled.
“No,” Korik said flatly. “But it’ll be close. Once we get past this steep point, I think we’ll be able to walk the rest of the way, though.”
“Tonight, maybe?”
“Maybe not. Tomorrow, I think.”
“Damn,” Varen sighed, looking out once again. This part of the mountain was just as steep, but had more trees than the part they’d just sailed through. They would have to be more cautious, but at least the sled was a little more fortified. “Ready?”
Korik nodded, and with a shove, they were flying down the mountainside once again.
Just as Korik said, they didn’t make it all the way to the foot of the mountain on their sled. It was slower going here: more trees meant they had to swerve around to find more convenient paths to follow. They had to make quick stops a few more times to avoid obstacles, but luckily had no more crash landings.
The slope evened out to a more manageable angle just in time; even with the fortifications, their sled was on the verge of falling apart when they finally came to a stop on a smooth plateau. Even Korik thought it was beyond salvaging now, so they left it behind as they continued on foot. It was still slow going with the snow, and the terrain was growing more rocky, but the end was now in sight.
When the sun dipped below the horizon, they set up camp between a cluster of trees, where they were able to clear away the snow without much issue.
“I hate to speak too soon, butgods, I can’t believe we made it,” Varen groaned, when he finally sat down in front of the campfire that was crackling away. He had snagged only two rabbits the whole day, which now roasted over the fire, the smell making his stomach growl. “With any luck, it’ll be just a few days to Solitude.”
Korik nodded, his expression pensive as he looked at the fire. Varen glanced sidelong at him, wondering if the orc was quiet just because he had nothing to say, or if his thoughts were elsewhere. More likely, he was just hungry—if Varen hadn’t eaten enough today, then certainly the orc must have been even more ravenous.
For a moment, he argued internally about whether he should ask Korik what was on his mind. He wanted to know, but the orc was so cautious with his words that even if he did ask, there was no guarantee he would get an answer. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from worrying, so after a moment, he asked gently,
“Everything alright?”
Korik gave a slight start, glancing over at him as if surprised Varen had noticed his worry. The firelight cast long, flickering shadows across his face and made his eyes glow golden with the warmth. Had he ever thought any orc was handsome before Korik?
“Yes,” Korik finally answered, his voice low. “Just hungry.”
He looked away as he said it, so Varen was sure there was more to it than hunger. But if Korik didn’t want to say, he wouldn’t press.
“Me too,” he chuckled. “Hunting tomorrow should be better, I hope.”
“Right,” Korik agreed softly. “Tomorrow.”
