Varen turned and went back the way he came. He didn’t think Korik would leave immediately, and some time to cool off for both of them would be best; but he couldn’t wait too long, either. A night of rest, a day or two to think out the exact right words, then he would return.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Korik
Therealityoftrulypacking up his entire life was settling on Korik. Unless he just left everything behind, it was going to take longer than he initially thought,muchlonger; but in his rush of emotions, he also hadn’t considered that they were heading into the worst of winter now, too, so leaving soon would be unwise.
No clans would venture into the mountains until the snows started to melt, and that was probably three months away or more. He berated himself, remembering how he had said aloud to the king and to Varen that he would leave within the next few weeks, as he took stock of his home and belongings. Oddest of all, everything felt far more cramped now than he remembered it; the tight hallways and shelves full of herbs and medicines were claustrophobic after so long out in the open beneath an endless sky, surrounded by nature. He already missed the sun on his skin and the wind in his hair.
K’lir did not like it much, either. For the whole first day they were home, the little kit was constantly following Roz, who would eventually bat him away in annoyance; he would then go meow at Korik until he took the cat outside, at which point Roz would want to go out, too. So Korik would sit in front of his door and watch as the two cats played amongst the flowerbeds. But K’lir was curious about his new surroundings, and Korik often had to chase him up and down the street to make sure he didn’t get into too much trouble.
This meant he was running into orcs who knew him, his neighbors and customers who had known he was gone. Most seemed relieved to see him, and some even asked to schedule appointments with him, which meant he had to explain his intention to leave the city within the next few months. Being confronted with their disappointment was strange; he knew some would only miss having a healer nearby, but several looked genuinely sad when they said that they would be sorry to see him go, and his next-door neighbor even asked him to reconsider.
Guilt made his chest ache to deny them, but when he answered each of them honestly that being out in the wilderness made him miss roaming, each took on a knowing expression and relented. To be an orc meant to yearn for travel, to be consumed with wanderlust, to live in open plains and sleep beneath a blanket of stars. Why else would there be only one orc city, if not for the urge to travel written in their blood? Even the ones who lived here felt it, too, but chose to remain for reasons of their own.
At least it meant that there might be more time to figure out a replacement, or at least sell off his extra stock and pack everything else away without being in a rush. But it also meant more time to dwell and ruminate on things, more time to talk himself out of what was feeling more and more like an impulsive and foolish decision.
But then he thought of Varen, and the possibility of encountering the elf in the city, and it steeled his resolve. Maybe he couldn’t leave just yet, but he would not remain in Drol Kuggradh for long.
Korik had taken to braiding his hair the way Varen had shown him, what felt like a lifetime ago during the storm. It was convenient for keeping his hair out of his eyes when he was bent over his many shelves and cabinets, counting bundles of herbs and organizing containers of tinctures and ointments. It wasn’t as clean as when Varen had done it, but he was getting there. Maybe someday he could braid his hair himself, without wishing he had someone else to do it for him.
It was hard not to think about Varen when he spent his time cataloging and organizing his stock in preparation for the eventual move. It was tedious work, but not especially mentally taxing, so his thoughts often wandered. Too often they drifted back to the topic of the elf, sometimes wishing for what they once might have had, sometimes bubbling with anger and sadness at how things had so abruptly ended.
Roz could sense his feelings and worried over him, but she was kept busy with K’lir while Korik worked, so her concern was limited to curling up with him in the evening. She was actually doing quite well at keeping K’lir out of trouble, and out of Korik’s way as he worked. The kit had taken to Roz much better than he had hoped and would follow her all day long—Korik had even managed to get her to practice some of K’lir’s training with him, when he was too busy to do so.
The razorfang cat seemed to grow by the day and would soon overshadow Roz, but for now, the kitten was entirely obedient to her. Her smug satisfaction at remaining the alpha made Korik smile. In reality, they both knew that K’lir had recognized the same magic in Korik as in Roz and likely saw her as exactly what she was: an extension of him, not a true cat. Still, the image of her sitting on the flowerbeds and chirping down at him to make him sit, and lay down, and jump was most amusing.
On the third day, Korik was organizing all the drawers behind the counter when a strange sense of alarm flashed in his chest, making his heart race suddenly—it was coming from Roz. He peered out the window in concern to see her looking to the side, focusing on something intently on the street.
“The elf is here,” she thought at him, her tail twitching in annoyance. Korik’s heart sank. The only elf she could mean was Varen. He had not needed to tell her about him—she could see it all in his memory, could sense it all in his emotions, which were her own. Seeing Varen in the flesh had agitated her, but he could sense something more, too—curiosity and maybe even hope.
“Be nice,” he thought, and even through the window he could see how her eyes narrowed in annoyance. But she remained sitting there with her tail swishing, and made no move to jump down, either to approach the elf or escape into the shop.
Then a shadow passed over the window, and there he was. Korik had grown so used to seeing him in his leather armor that it was almost startling to see him dressed in regular clothes: a grayish-blue woolen sweater with a high collar, his hair loose and flowing. He had not noticed Korik through the window, instead looking down with a smile—K’lir had spotted him, too, and was sniffing at his boots. He reached down to pet the kit, then straightened and offered a hand to Roz.
The calico cat first hissed at him, then butted her head against his hand—quite a mixed message, reflecting his own feelings, he supposed. To his credit, Varen didn’t pull away, and the amused smile remained on his face as he lightly scratched behind her ears.
Then he stepped closer to the door, and Korik could no longer see him through the window at the angle they were at. Several long seconds went by.
“He’s just staring at the door,” Roz thought. “He smells terrified.”
That could mean any number of things. Part of Korik hoped Varen would turn around and leave without bothering him, but it was only a small part—the rest of him was up and moving before he could even process what he was doing, reaching for the door on impulse.
He pulled the shop door open; Varen appeared on the other side, visibly startled. For a moment, they both stood motionless and staring at each other. Korik wasn’t sure what he had been thinking—wasn’t even sure what to say now that he’d opened the door.
“Hello, Korik,” Varen finally said, a forced calm to his voice. “I, um, I was hoping we could talk.”
The smaller, vindictive part of Korik wanted to slam the door in the elf’s face, just so he knew he was being soundly rejected. He wanted to ignore Varen the way he had the few times the elf had tried to initiate a conversation with him when they were still in Solitude.
But he didn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. So he stepped aside and gestured for Varen to enter.
Before he could, Roz leaped down from the flowerbed, darting inside ahead of him with her tail still swishing angrily. K’lir followed quickly, though without any hostility. A faint smile flashed across Varen’s face as the two cats ran away.
“Come in,” Korik said. “I’ll make tea.”
Varen’s mouth opened like he might protest, but he seemed to think better of it as he stepped inside. He glanced around for a beat, then nodded.
“Lead the way.”
