“We’re taking them with us,” Korik said.
“We can barely feed ourselves,” Varen protested, shaking his head. “We can’t take them along.”
“We’ll manage. They won’t survive on their own.”
“The outpost might not let us in with them,” he argued, and Korik forced down a grimace,
“They may not let me in anyway,” he replied curtly, adjusting his hold on the kits. “I don’t care.”
When he looked back at Varen, the elf had a disturbed expression on his face; but he didn’t protest as Korik bundled one kitten into his coat. It had grown calm quickly, so he suspected it was the one whose mind he had touched. The other still hissed at him. He held it in the crook of his elbow and pressed it against his chest, so it would have a harder time swiping at him.
“They’ll let you in,” Varen said softly, when Korik crouched back down to look into the den once more. “You’ll be with me. Of course they’ll let you in.”
“Hopefully,” Korik grunted. He could see the small shape of the dead kit at the very back of the den. The kit in his shirt squirmed, trying to get out. He placed his free hand on the ground and churned the earth up again, this time collapsing the den and burying its little body. The soil wasn’t frozen here, kept warm by their body heat, and was more malleable with his magic. The deceased kit would nourish the roots of the tree that had sheltered its siblings. It might have been kinder to bury the kit with its mother, but he wasn’t sure how long it had been there and was hesitant to move it.
When he straightened back up, Varen was looking at him with an expression that he couldn’t read. They walked in silence for a long while; the kitten under his arm kept squirming and meowing in complaint, while the one in his shirt had settled and was now sitting quietly.
“Wait,” Varen said, and Korik stopped short. There was a small commotion at the base of a nearby tree. Korik felt Varen’s magic whip out toward it, then the elf was jogging over to pick up the carcass of a rabbit. Korik hadn’t spotted it. When Varen returned, he sighed and offered the carcass to Korik.
“Shall we feed them, then?” he asked. He smiled faintly at Korik, who managed a slight smile in return. It was a decent enough peace offering.
Varen cut up pieces of the rabbit, still warm and fresh, and handed them to Korik so he could hand-feed the kits. The restless one took the pieces without any caution, its needle-like fangs digging into Korik’s fingers; the calmer one was more gentle and licked the blood off Korik’s hand. Its tongue was rough and reminded him of Roz.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Varen
Takingtherazorfangkittenswith them was not the smartest course of action. Still, Varen couldn’t bring himself to argue with Korik about it. He had not wanted to kill the mother cat, knowing how rare the creatures were; but it had been her or them, so the choice was clear. But they didn’t have enough food as it was, much less enough for two more mouths. Even if they were small and fluffy.
He wasn’t sure what they would do when they finally arrived in Solitude. But that would require them to arrive there alive first, so he tried not to think about it. Their food reserves were depleted; food was scarce whether hunted or foraged, though they found enough to just be hungry, rather than starving. Trees with edible bark were the easiest to find, but he hoped he would never again have to look at the pale strips of fiber.
It was a good thing the kittens were cute. Their long fangs were already poking out from their fluffy jowls. One kit was much more rambunctious, batting and swatting at them in mock play as it followed them through the snow. The other was timid, following Korik closely; he would often bundle it into his shirt, its little head peeking out at the base of his throat as it napped. After they were fed the first time, they both warmed up to him and Korik considerably, which was promising. Varen only hoped they were decently well-behaved by the time they got to Solitude, or if not, that they developed enough to survive on their own.
They were warm, too, which was another benefit. They cuddled up between Varen and Korik at night, which was rather endearing—it did mean an interruption to their other nighttime activities, though, which was less so.
That was it, he supposed. They were only a few days away from the outpost now; it would be the end of their little adventure, and their tryst along with it. They’d agreed it would just be something casual. Korik hadn’t asked for more, and Varen didn’t think the orc wanted more from him, if he were being honest with himself. Sometimes, it maybe seemed like there was more—a lingering gaze, an unnecessary touch—but nothing came of them.
Occasionally, he regretted ever pitching their situation to Korik as temporary and casual; but he’d been so sure then that Korik wouldn’t agree to even that. If he had pushed his luck, maybe he would have had nothing happen between them at all. If this was all they would have, he supposed that would have to be enough.
What was it the bards sang? Better to let someone lovely go, than never hold them in your arms at all? Maybe there was some truth to that.
“I think I saw it in the distance,” Korik said softly, when he came back to himself in the morning. “So it probably won’t be today, but tomorrow. I hope.”
“Youthinkyou saw it?” Varen asked, frowning.
“I don’t know what to look for,” Korik said, shaking his head. “But I saw what looked like a small village in the distance. I was already getting ready to turn back when I spotted it. So I think that was it.”
“That sounds right,” Varen agreed. “There was a village there once. Now it’s just the outpost. I don’t think there’s anything else around here, so if that wasn’t it, I don’t know what else it could be.”
Korik nodded, still looking pensive. But then Varen’s stomach growled, and Korik let out a small huff of a laugh. They had little to eat: a single rabbit that Varen had snagged the evening before and a handful of berries. Varen prepared the rabbit—the head and innards went to the kits, and the rest was split down the middle for him and Korik to share. He’d set it over the fire when Korik had been scouting ahead with his magic, eating his portion of the berries while he waited. The half of the rabbit wouldn’t fully stave off his hunger, but it would have to be enough for now.
Once they’d both eaten, they buried the remnants of their campfire and set out. The razorfang kittens trailed behind them; the shy one never more than a few feet away from Korik, while the other followed from a distance, stopping to explore and smell things before dashing to catch up.
“I noticed you haven’t named them,” he remarked to Korik as they walked, glancing back at the kit at Korik’s feet. The orc looked down at the kit and sighed.
“Not yet,” he said. “I’m hesitant to... feel too attached. In case we have to let them go.”
Varen winced. It was probably for the best; but some part of him felt something of a loss, remembering how Korik had named the horse they’d given him when they’d first set out, but not the others. It felt like a lifetime ago now.
