It was a small clan with only about twenty orcs, about five children and fifteen adults. They were all bundled up and wearing snowshoes; behind them, two mules pulled a sled that was piled with wood and other supplies. A mountain clan preparing for the worst of winter, Korik suspected. They might spend a month or more here, waiting for the coldest, cruelest weeks to pass in a place of relative safety. The adults were all armed, but none were reaching for their weapons. When they reached the opposite end of the springs, the one who had called to them—likely the clan’s leader—lifted her hands up in a show of nonaggression and walked around the perimeter of the pool toward them, stopping a few paces away.
“We weren’t expecting to see anyone here,” she said, now speaking normally instead of shouting. Her skin was a deep green with lighter freckles sprinkled across her face; a small gem was inlaid on one of her tusks, and her long black hair fell in two tight braids over each shoulder to nearly her waist. “But no need to leave in a hurry. We’ve room for another.” Her eyes flicked to Varen, but her expression remained cautiously curious, with no hint of hostility. “Or two.”
“We were just about to leave,” Korik said, shaking his head. “Just camping here for the night.”
“Only the two of you? It’s dangerous to be traveling this time of year with so few,” the woman said.
“Our destination is not far,” Korik replied. The woman eyed him with curiosity, then gestured at the elf.
“How much orcish does this one understand?” she asked. Varen tensed beside Korik, but he could tell from the guarded expression on his face that he wasn’t picking up more than a few words from her—on edge just from her pointing at him.
“Little,” Korik answered. “We come from Drol Kuggradh, where elvish is spoken more and more these days.”
Her eyebrows raised. “You’ve come very far, then, cousin.”
“A long tale,” he replied, still uncertain how much he should share.
“Are you accompanying him to the elven outpost, then?” she asked. “I can’t imagine anything else this far north the elves would be interested in.”
Korik glanced at Varen, who looked at him uncomprehendingly.
“Yes,” he answered simply, looking back at the woman.
For a moment, the three of them stood in silence. Korik watched her as she glanced between the two of them, then turned back to her clan, waiting on the opposite side of the spring.
“You’ll need better snowshoes, both of you,” she said, gesturing for the clan to approach. “Let’s trade.”
“What’s happening?” Varen asked sharply, frowning as the group drew closer.
“She’s offered to trade with us,” Korik said. “Be calm. We could use the supplies.”
Varen frowned, but nodded.
“I’m Rhagir, by the way,” the woman said, looking back at Korik. “Tell your elf friend there’s no need to be so standoffish. He looks like he’s ready to make a run for it any second.”
“I’m Korik,” he answered. “And... This is Varen.” The elf eyed him sharply, recognizing the exchange of names, but said nothing. “He’s harmless.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” Rhagir laughed. “But I can’t blame him. Being outnumbered by this many orcs—his ancestors are weeping in their graves, surely.” She turned toward Korik. “You’re a druid, right? I can smell the magic on you.”
Korik blinked, taken aback. “Smell it?”
She laughed again. “Unfortunately, that’s the extent of my own magical ability. Not enough to be a druid myself, but enough to sense whoever has the gift.”
“I... I see,” Korik stammered. “Well. Yes. But I’m a healer in Drol Kuggradh, mostly.”
The rest of her clan had arrived now, and she turned to them.
“Dekir, bring me the extra snowshoes,” she called. A young boy in the group nodded, turning toward the sled being pulled by the mules. “And some of the salt pork, too, I think.”
“There’s no need, really,” Korik protested, but she shook her head.
“Snowshoes at the very least,” she said, gesturing to the worn out panels at his feet. “Those would be better as baskets. No offense, but I can tell you made them yourself.”
He winced, but nodded. “Yes. We were... unprepared.”
Her eyes lingered on him for a long moment. Beside him, Varen remained tense, but Korik could tell some of it was fading into curiosity as he watched the boy rummaging through their bundles of supplies on the sled.
“Are you safe?” Rhagir asked abruptly, though she said it in the same calm tone. Korik stared at her, blinking in surprise. “With him, I mean. Neither of you look like you’re prepared for a winter journey this far north. Is he forcing you to go with him or something?”
