Lira had seen her uncle’s powers, even though he used them sparingly, but sizing up the rescue party, she suspected he wouldn’t need them.
As they headed for the door, Sass called out, “If you happen upon any halfling honey, we wouldn’t say no to it.”
Laughter followed them out into the winter night, and Lira pulled her cardigan tighter around her neck as she, Sass, Cali and Iris stepped outside to watch the group pile into the back of the cart.
Klaff eyed the group in the back of the cart warily. “You sure you’ll all fit in there with the ostrich for the return trip?”
“You aren’t going with them?” Lira asked the orcs.
Vorto snorted a laugh. “Where would we fit?”
He made a good point.
The halflings from Elmshire hopped into their wee cart, sitting on the buckboard behind the hitched pony.
“We’ll lead the way,” they called, throwing jaunty waves behind them. “Farewell, cousins. Write to us soon.”
Pip jumped up and down, flailing one arm as the pony whinnied and the cart pulled away. “And you write back!”
“And tell us all about the ostrich aftermath,” Fenni added with a laugh.
Sass shoved her sleeves up her arms as the carts disappeared into the night. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m ready to put this festival and night to bed.”
“As soon as we help you clean up,” Iris said as everyone filed back inside.
Lira lingered outside for a moment before following her friends back inside the Tusk & Tail, sucking in a breath filled with wood smoke and frost and the faintest wisp of chai spice.
The longest night had passed, and the light was returning. But more than that, Lira had found her home, her family, and her place in the world. If that home occasionally involved missing ostriches and surprise visitors, well, that just made it more interesting.
CHAPTER8
Korl held on to the sides of the wagon as it bounced along the snow-dusted road, glad that the flurries had stopped. It was cold enough riding in the back of an open wagon without being snowed on, and despite orcs running hot, his fingers were feeling stiff.
He hadn’t imagined that the Solstice Festival would have ended with him on his way to Elmshire to retrieve a drunk ostrich. Truth be told, he’d hoped it would end with him cuddled up with his fiancée by a roaring fire. He thought of Lira back in the tavern, and his pulse quickened. He wished he were there instead of here, although his muscle was needed to wrestle such a large, inebriated bird into the cart.
A sigh escaped his lips, and he caught Thrain’s lopsided grin behind a face full of dark whiskers.
“Not how you thought you’d be spending your night?” the dwarf asked, his voice rumbling over the creaking wheels.
Korl grunted, not wanting to tell Thrain how he’d rather be spending his night. The orc found most things were best left unsaid.
“Almost there!” Poppin called back from the cart ahead of them.
Vaskel lifted a hand in acknowledgment from where he sat on the buckboard next to Erindil and steered the horses.
“Thank gods,” muttered Val, rubbing her hands together.
Rog nudged her, producing a slim bottle from beneath his jacket. “Take a swig of this. It’ll warm you.”
Val eyed the amber liquid. “I don’t think my being drunk off apple brandy will help things.”
Korl snorted a laugh, imagining having to tuck Val in next to the drunk ostrich for the return trip.
Korl leaned his head out to take in the view as the cart crested a hill and entered the halfling village of Elmshire. Even with snow and ice slicking the landscape, he could make out the distinctive mounds of the halfling holes dug into the sides of the rolling hills. The horses clip-clopped over a stone bridge and down the narrower lane of the village, gates on both sides leading to winding paths through gardens that ended at colorful round doors.
This wasn’t his first trip to the halfling village, but he was reminded just how much smaller everything was, especially compared to him.
“Do you see him?” Thrain called up to Vaskel and Erindil.
