“I suppose not,” he stammered, looking away. He felt, more than heard, Krujha chuckle with how closely they were sitting.
“Me neither,” Krujha sighed, now speaking between spoonfuls of porridge. “Though I can’t say I’m some morning songbird either—getting up before the sun has just never felt right to me. I had to beg Gorza not to put me on breakfast duty.”
Alwyn had to stifle an annoyed sigh. The last orc he’d traveled with, Korik, had barely spoken a word to him the whole time. Just his luck the next one would talk his ear off.
His poor luck continued as they traveled.
Gorza divided them into pairs to cover all necessary tasks for their travel. G’mol and Myrra were tasked to scout ahead, while Torlag and Daine would find a water source to ensure everyone’s waterskins were topped up each day. Gorza and Galred would share cooking duties; lastly, Fionia and Cithrel would pair up to oversee the horses and gear during camp setup and breakdown.
Of course, that meant Alwyn and Krujha were paired together to hunt and forage as they traveled to supplement their supply of rations.
Alwyn would have much rather been assigned to the horses, but somehow doubted Gorza would be sympathetic to such a request. She seemed friendly enough, but had a no-nonsenseair about her as she delegated duties, which left little room for discussion.
And so at midday, he grudgingly broke off from the group with Krujha. As their band continued northward, they veered more west, toward a cluster of trees that Krujha claimed looked promising.
“I take it you haven’t done much foraging,” Krujha chuckled, slowing his larger horse so they could remain side-by-side—presumably to chat, which only annoyed Alwyn further. “You seem like a city boy to me.”
Alwyn frowned. It was true that he had lived in Castle Aefraya most of his life, never having to hunt or forage for his own food. His earliest memories were of an orphanage in some town or city; then he was taken to the Library, where he’d remained when not on assignment for the Order.
“I suppose so,” he said simply, unsure of what else to say. Luckily, Krujha seemed more than capable of keeping a conversation going with minimal input.
“I grew up in a clan that stayed mostly along the western coast, actually,” he said, gesturing to the west, as if the coast were somehow in their line of sight. “So most of my foraging skills are for a much different climate. We did more fishing than hunting. But I’ve traveled enough through the rest of the wildlands now to have a decent sense of what can be foraged in other locations. If we were closer to the beach, though, we’d be heading back to camp with baskets and baskets of food.”
“Unfortunate that we’re here then, and your talents are wasted,” Alwyn mumbled. Krujha laughed, which took him by surprise.
“Well, at least we don’t have too many mouths to feed,” Krujha said, grinning down at him. “I think we’ll get by just fine, however slim the bounty. After all, Gorza made sure we were well-supplied before setting out.”
Alwyn nodded. But Krujha seemed to wait for him to say something, so after a beat, he asked, “Is your clan still on the coast, then?”
For the first time, Krujha’s grin seemed to falter, and he glanced away.
“No,” he answered. The brevity spoke loud enough for Alwyn to know that he must have hit a sore spot, but he had no intention of pursuing that thread any further.
For a while, they were both silent, only the sound of their horses’ hooves between them. But when Krujha finally spoke again, it was with the same friendly tone.
“Have you been to Drol Kuggradh at all? Or anywhere else in the wildlands?”
Alwyn couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped him this time. It seemed it didn’t matter how little he engaged with the orc—he was going to be forced into a conversation one way or the other.
So he told the orc that he had been to Drol Kuggradh once, before tracking an offshoot of the rebel camp on his previous mission. For his part, Krujha went on at some length about his experience tracking the rebels; but also that he had spent several years in Drol Kuggradh. He had also traveled along the full range of the elf border, but never into Aefraya itself. As they finally reached the treeline, the orc turned the conversation back to the task at hand, informing Alwyn that at this time of year, they could hope to find the dregs of autumn’s bounty, along with a handful of winter fruits and tubers.
“Some of these trees have edible bark, too,” Krujha finished, gesturing to a tree as they passed it. “That’s more of a last resort, though. It doesn’t taste good, but it has nutrients.”
Alwyn wrinkled his nose. “Let’s hope it won’t come to that.”
Krujha nodded, then pointed to some fruit in the highest branches of the trees. After some effort, they managed to gather a handful of small apples. Two were soft, probably full of worms,so Krujha tossed them to the ground; but the rest they put into a cotton sack that he pulled from a saddlebag. Next, he led them to a wild crop of plants that had edible tubers, pulling a few out at the base to reveal their roots and the plump growths beneath them.
“You can use magic to clean things, can’t you?” Krujha asked with a teasing grin, shaking the worst of the dirt from the uprooted plant. Alwyn sighed, and with a swish of his hand, the dirt came flying off the plant and fell into a pile at Krujha’s feet. The orc laughed, kicking the soil away.
“You aren’t going to take the rest?” Alwyn asked, frowning, as Krujha placed the now-clean tubers in the same cotton sack and moved to mount his horse.
“Not from this cluster, no,” Krujha said. After a beat, he added, “If you take them all, there might not be any more here next year. You never take all of them. Some have to go to seed.”
That made sense, though it was something Alwyn had never considered.
“I see,” he said, then pointed toward another cluster of the same plant a little further away. “What about those?”
Krujha grinned down at him, and Alwyn felt heat rising in his face. He hadn’t met many orcs in his life, but this one had to be more cheerful than most.
