“No, no,” Korik stammered, flushing with embarrassment as he shook his head. “It’s nothing like that.”
“Are you sure? You’re welcome to join us,” Rhagir pressed. “Our clan would gladly accept a druid, especially if you’re a healer. Our druid passed of old age before the peace treaty, and Dekir has the gift, but no one to train him. And several of our clan succumbed to ash fever this spring. A healer would be sorely appreciated.”
“He’s my... friend,” Korik said, glancing at Varen, who looked at him in confusion. “We didn’t mean to end up here. It’s a long story, but we... got lost. We’re headed for the elven fort. I don’t need rescuing, but I would be happy to heal any of your clan should they need it.”
Rhagir stared at him for a long moment, clearly not believing his story. But then the boy, Dekir, approached with two bags, one large and one small. She took them with a sigh.
“If you insist,” she said, then opened the bag. “Let’s see. I’ve got a pair of snowshoes Dekir outgrew for your elf friend. And here’s two spares for you—try them on and see which set fits better.”
“What do they want for these?” Varen asked suspiciously, as Korik handed him the set of child’s snowshoes.
“They haven’t asked,” Korik replied. “But I’ve offered to heal any of their wounded or sick. They have no healer with them. That alone should make for an even trade.”
Varen nodded, looking at the snowshoes that were obviously of a far finer quality than the ones Korik had managed to cobble together during the snowstorm. Eying Rhagir uncertainly, he slowly sat down to pull off his makeshift snowshoes. The new ones fit him well: the shape and length of them were much more suitable and had straps made of actual thick fabric to tie more tightly around his feet. The ones Korik had made just had loops woven from strips of bark.
“I’m surprised they had any this small,” Varen said, and Korik nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to tell the elf that the pair he wore were meant for a child.
He tried on the snowshoes that Rhagir had given him. The first pair fit well enough, so he handed the extra set back over, which she took with the same pensive expression.
“You’re sure you don’t want to come with us?” she asked. “Dekir could really use a teacher. And the more the clan grows, the better it is for all of us. We’ve suffered losses lately. More will always be welcome.”
The orc boy looked to be ten years old, perhaps younger. He had remained beside Rhagir, watching Korik silently with big, hopeful eyes. Trial and error was a difficult teacher; a pang of guilt wracked Korik’s stomach at the thought of leaving one with the gift to their own devices. But he couldn’t leave Varen behind, and they had to get to the outpost in Solitude.
“I’m sure,” Korik replied, looking away from the boy. “Sorry. But I plan to return to Drol Kuggradh after this.”
Rhagir sighed, shrugging. “Alright, well. If you ever change your mind, you have a standing invitation to join up with us.”
Korik wanted to protest, but she seemed insistent, so he only responded, “I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you.”
Thankfully, she did not bring it up again. Instead, she called for any sick and injured in her clan to come to him; and he spent the next half-hour healing various injuries and ailments. Mostly, they were small injuries that were common enough from walking so long in the snow: a twisted ankle that still ached; skin that had split from the cold, dry air; the youngest child, not yet two years, had the beginnings of a respiratory illness that he was able to isolate and extract before it could develop beyond a stuffy nose. The girl glared at him after she coughed up the thick phlegm, but her mother thanked him generously, giving him an extra bag of grain from her own belongings.
When Korik was done with everyone who had approached him, Varen was sitting on a rock with their payment: in addition to the snowshoes they now wore, they had two bags of grain, a thick cut of salted pork, a banged-up pot, two knitted scarves, a pair of mittens that would only fit Korik, and a fur cloak sized for a child that Varen had already wrapped around his shoulders. The cloak had some damage—some fur singed off near the shoulders, and a long tear near the bottom—but with the little they had, it would be a welcome supplement. All in all, it seemed a very fair trade.
Varen appeared less on-edge now, too, though he’d been watching Korik closely the entire time.
“All done,” Korik said, turning to him. Varen grinned up at him.
“Seems like this worked out well for us, all things considered,” he said, and Korik nodded.
“Healer,” a voice came from behind him. Korik turned back to see Dekir standing there, wringing his hands nervously. “Do you really have to go?”
Korik sighed, trying to push down the guilt of not helping. “I do. I am sorry.”
“Is there anything you can teach me before you go?” he asked, though his eyes darted nervously over to Varen as he said it. Korik bit his lower lip, considering. There was nothing he could do with Varen around—he particularly didn’t want them to know that he had shared the secrets of druidic magic with an elf. He tried to recall the things that his father had told him when he was young: how he had instructed him when his efforts were clumsy with youth. It had all come so easily now for so long, it was hard to remember how he had gotten to the point of it being second nature.
“Don’t try to push into the earth,” Korik finally said. “Open yourself to its power instead. Invite it in, and it will be more welcoming to you.”
The boy looked unimpressed, his eyes turning down to the ground. “I see... Thank you for your wisdom.”
He scurried away through the snow before Korik could respond. Korik frowned as he watched Dekir go, wishing there was more he could say. But it would take more than just a few sentences to give the boy any meaningful information, so his request was an impossible one.
Before they could leave, Rhagir approached them again.
“Thanks for your help, Healer.” She offered her hand to Korik. They shook, and she added in a low tone, “I meant what I said about a standing invitation. You’ll always be welcome if you decide city life isn’t for you anymore.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Korik muttered. Rhagir glanced at Varen, who was hovering a few steps behind Korik, then waved at him with a stifled grin. Varen gave a start, grimaced, and returned the wave with some awkwardness.
“Safe travels,” she said, then turned to rejoin their clan.
