Something Extra - Hungry Heart - Ch. 9 (Patreon)

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Chapter Nine – The Call of The Road

Toru moved without making a sound. One last look at Duril’s sleeping form curled on the bed made him hesitate for a moment. That was a home; it was warm and had the one he wanted. But his soul was growing restless, as he had foreseen it would. Tomorrow, he would ask Duril again about coming with him. But now, his mission was to find the old witch and ask her what he was missing from his memories.

The town was deserted, and not even the birds of the night could be heard in the chill air. Toru didn’t need light to find his way, and the pull from earlier was stronger now. The glimmer of the moon and the stars was enough for him, and even that he could do without. Guarded by darkness, he was the true king. No one was his equal; the poor orphan cub had grown into a powerful tiger.

His strength only continued to grow, had done so for as long as he could remember. For a while, Toru had mistaken his hunger inside for a desire to be more; more powerful, more cunning, faster. But things weren’t that way. His hunger longed for something else, or better said someone else. All the orphans he had known growing up as a shifter were the same.

And yet, he had never nurtured a strong desire to know who the ones who had given him life were. Shapeshifters were either part of a pack or the accidental offspring of the communion between humans and animal spirits. Toru didn’t care for being part of a pack. His strength came from inside, his muscles and bones and joints, and from his wit. Being reliant on someone else didn’t make him who he was.

He moved through the town like a spirit of the night. Agatha would tell him what he needed to know. The old witch had the answers. She had to.

***

A long, wailing howl faded in the distance. Could it be Varg was hunting with his pack? Duril feared the night, but for Toru and Varg, she was a friend.

He crouched by the wooden gate guarding the old witch’s yard. Guarding was a bit of an exaggeration since it only hung by one hinge and was singing a sad mournful song with each gust of wind.

Why was he hesitating? He didn’t believe in bad omens and whatnot. And that lonely hut, at the outskirts of the town, could only belong to Agatha. Standing tall, Toru pushed open the gate and entered the yard. From inside the hut, a soft humming accompanied by a bubbling sound could be heard.

Toru peeked through the window. The old witch was perched on a small stool and staring into a pot over a big fire. Who was crazy enough to make such a big fire indoors? Apparently, old witches. She seemed taken with whatever she was doing, probably reciting incantations.

For a while, he did nothing. The polite thing to do would be to wait for the old witch to finish with whatever witchcraft she was doing, but it looked like she was going to take forever. Patience had never been among his virtues, and anyhow, he had never been a virtuous tigershifter to begin with. He liked eating, brawling, and cuddling with handsome men who wanted him.

He knocked on the door once, and finally, the humming stopped.

“Go away,” a hoarse voice advised him from behind the door.

“I need to talk to you, old witch,” Toru said.

“Go away, tigershifter,” the voice warned him again.

“No way. You took my memories, didn’t you? What did you take? I need to know.”

“Young tiger,” the voice softened, “go away.”

Toru didn’t like busting down doors, especially when they belonged to old witches, but he was growing annoyed with being denied. “I’m coming in,” he announced.

Maybe the door was open he thought just as he was ready to slam his shoulder through the flimsy wood. He pushed it hesitantly, and it opened in front of him.

Agatha turned toward him, still perched on her wooden stool. “What are you doing here, at the hour of the witch?” Her voice was deep, cavernous, and for a moment Toru felt his hackles rising.

No, he knew no fear. “You don’t scare me,” he said.

Agatha got down from the stool, and Toru looked down. She was so tiny she probably lost herself sometimes among all of the strange pots lying around the room. “It was worth a try,” she replied, this time in the normal voice of a gentle old lady.

Toru snickered. So the witch couldn’t be taken too seriously. Duril was afraid of bad omens and whatnot for nothing.

Agatha pointed at a stool for him to sit on. Toru sat gingerly and threw a curious look inside the bubbling pot. Were those eyes floating on the surface? He leaned a bit closer, drawn by the glassy globes.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the witch warned.

Toru moved away and scrunched his nose. While he was busy looking around the strange room filled with vials, pots, herbs hanging from the ceiling, teeth that had once belonged to animals and other items that he couldn’t even begin to guess what they were, Agatha appeared to be looking for something.

“Ah, there it is,” she said. It looked like the old witch didn’t even have to ask him why he was there.

Toru was about to ask her about the memories she took from him when he noticed what she was holding. It was a long hair, thick, white at one end, golden in the middle, and black at the top. He recognized it for what it was right away. “That belongs to me,” he shouted.

Agatha held it high, swinging it in front of his eyes. Toru made a move to snatch it, but the old witch was certainly nimble for her age, moving out of his arm’s reach.

“I will ask you,” Agatha said gravely, “do you want to hear the call of the road again?”

Toru stood still, unsure of what to make of that question. In the end, he shrugged. “Sure.”

“Young tiger, to receive you must give,” Agatha said patiently. “Is this your true answer?”

“I’ve been on the road all my life.”

“But here you found friends,” Agatha pointed out.

“Yes,” Toru admitted. “I’ll come back to visit.”

Agatha shook her head slowly. “The path before you is long and filled with dangers. You could turn your back on it and live a happy life. Your tiger years can be blessed with kindness and love.”

Toru had an idea of what the old witch was telling him. He could forget about the strange scent drawing him like an irresistible lure and settle down. But as much as he loved Duril’s warm embrace and brawling with Varg, he saw the choice clearly in his mind. A blessed life, the witch was saying, but all in life came with a cost.

“Will I still feel this?” He placed one hand over his heart, pressing hard. “This … longing?”

Agatha cocked her head and looked at him with eyes full of pity. “You will.”

“But why? What does it mean?”

Agatha sighed. “The call of the road is your destiny, Toru,” she said slowly. “Will you follow it? Do you want to hear it, feel it again?”

Toru nodded.

“Say it with your words, young tiger,” Agatha demanded.

“I want to hear it again,” Toru said with determination.

The old witch nodded and gestured for him to follow her to a corner of the room. He noticed a worn-out table, surprisingly clean of any of the pots and potion supplies that lay everywhere else.

Agatha used her free hand to grab ashes from a tall pot and spread them on the table, while her lips moved continuously. Toru watched as from the tips of her gnarly fingers a tiny flame suddenly grew. She set fire to the hair in her other hand.

“Blow over it and it will tell you the path you must take.”

Toru obeyed and sparks flew over the table, setting the ashes ablaze like dry grass. At a loss for words, he watched as the sparks died down and the ashes arranged themselves into a map of sorts. With the eyes of his mind he could see the road he had come thus far, so short compared to the vastness stretching in front of him. And there was Whitekeep; the lake where he had killed the rocs, even Duril’s tiny hut and the Tinker Inn.

The rest of the table was covered by fog and forests, and the road that had brought him to Whitekeep pointed now toward an unseen path that lost itself in the tangling of wooden limbs, but led in the direction of what appeared to be a building standing tall, with crenelated walls, grey like mist.

His heart filled as he watched, but the hunger grew with it, too. His toes were tingling, all the muscles in his body wanted him to move, that strong the call was. But while his heart pushed him forward, now it was pulling him back, too. He looked at Whitekeep again, so small, so insignificant on that huge world map, and his heart jolted with feelings he had recently grown accustomed to.

His eyes stopped on the lake. “You took my memories away,” he said.

“I helped you,” Agatha said. “Doubt has no place in a tiger’s hungry heart.”

“What doubt? I never doubt,” Toru protested.

“You are brave, as you are strong. But your heart,” the old witch added and touched his chest lightly, “in here, is a home with many rooms. Until they’re all full, you won’t find your peace.”

“I have to leave.” Toru raised his head and sniffed the air. The scent was there, again.

“I know. What will they think?” Agatha said, but her head was turned away from him already.

“Who? Of what?”

“Your friends, about your forgetting to say goodbye,” she replied, and there was a note of sadness in her voice.

“I have to go,” Toru said again. The call of the road was a hum brought by the wind; he could feel it deep inside his bones, filling him.

He hurried out and shifted in a split second. His heart grew wings as he broke into a sprint. Shackles he hadn’t felt before set him free from their confines.

He ran.

***

Duril took his time to adjust to the first rays of sun sneaking in. It wasn’t like him to sleep so deeply and shaking off the last grains of slumber from his eyelashes took a feat of strength.

“When did I get so lazy?” he scolded himself as he stood up and shivered with the cold of the morning.

The bed was empty, and Duril stared at it for a bit. Could it be that Toru had already woken up? It wasn’t impossible, but now the healer had to ask himself again just how deeply he had been in his dreams not to feel the other getting up.

He had probably gone with Varg on an errand, or maybe hunting. He was so young and full of life, Duril thought and smiled. They were taking things slowly indeed, but it didn’t hurt if they hurried just a little. Just remembering the kiss Toru had given him was enough to make his entire skin feel on fire.

“What am I thinking, the first thing in the morning?” Duril muttered under his breath.

And then, there was Varg, someone he had looked up to all his life. The man was a force of nature, as his shifter abilities caused him to be. But there was no one as generous, as strong or as protective as he was. And he had kissed Duril, too.

He shook his head and hurried to begin brewing his potions. It was a new day, and daydreaming was bad for business. Especially now that he had a new shop, he needed to be even stricter with his routine. Later, when he had finished all the chores, he would come home, prepare a hearty dinner to share with Toru, and then maybe he would find time to allow himself to daydream or … even more.

With that alluring thought, he set himself up to work. There were so many things to do, and Toru would like to come back to a warm meal and someone who liked him very much. Duril shook his head again. He was getting ahead of himself. First, he needed to work.

***

Varg had hunted late into the night, but his pack now had food secured and he could indulge in a bit of time for himself. He wanted to see a pair of defiant eyes, ready to challenge him. There was no better way to spend the day than roping the tigershifter into a new adventure. As much as he didn’t like to be collared, just like any cat, big or small, he surely liked to follow when the promise of a reward was in store. By the standards of anyone in Whitekeep, Toru was now a rich man, and had everyone’s gratitude. That meant that he would be received with open arms anywhere he went, but Varg suspected that the powerful tiger wouldn’t like to be supported and treated indefinitely without working for his daily bread.

It was a good thing that the rocs had been destroyed, and the quests he had in mind surely weren’t as challenging as that crisis had been, but also not as dangerous, something for which Varg was more than grateful. There was always something to do, beasts to hunt, errands to run, and quarrels to solve – although the latter couldn’t be entrusted to a hothead like Toru, Varg was sure.

He stopped by the Tinker Inn first. Rory was already serving lunch and he gestured for Varg to take a seat at his usual table. The youngster was busy with his regular patrons, as strangers were a rare occurrence in Whitekeep, but he still treated Varg diffidently, as much as the wolfshifter had insisted for him not to do that.

Rory, however, proved to have a lot of stubbornness in his small body. His arms were filled with plates of food as he hurried to Varg’s table. “Good to see you at lunchtime, Sir Varg,” he chirped happily.

“Ah, are you spoiling me again?” Varg eyed the food and his stomach grumbled. Everything Rory made was mouthwatering and looked amazing, too.

“Who would I spoil if not the heroes of Whitekeep?” Rory replied. “I’ll bring you a pint right away.”

“Speaking of heroes, have you seen Toru today?”

Rory shook his head. “No. He hasn’t been here yet. And I really want him to taste my special pork stew. I’m sure he has never tasted anything as good, no matter how much he must have been all over the world.” Like him, the young innkeeper suspected Toru to be a traveler.

Varg smiled at Rory’s lack of modesty. He was right to be proud of his pork stew. The occasional travelers had always praised it. But where could Toru be? Was he helping Duril at his shop? The image he conjured of Toru wearing an apron and playing the role of an obedient shop assistant made him smile. But it was worth checking in later with the healer to see what Toru was up to. For now, he settled in to enjoy Rory’s exquisite cooking.

***

It was late in the afternoon when the flow of customers died down a little. Duril had been more than happy to see that more townsfolk were now keen on purchasing potions from him. They were also polite toward him, and the entire attitude change made him blush. He had helped them with potions and advice, and they had even listened to him, acknowledging him as a healer. Some even said that he was the best, but Duril had a hard time believing that.

Since it looked like no one would come in for a while, he decided that it was a good time to do a bit of cleaning. He grabbed a broom and was about to begin sweeping when the door opened and someone entered.

Duril blushed when he saw who his customer was.

“Sir Varg,” he said solicitously and hurried behind the counter. “Is there something I can help you with today?”

“No need to be so formal with me, Duril, as I told you,” Varg replied. “How is the shop going? I hope everything is well, and that the townsfolk aren’t giving you a hard time.”

“No, everyone’s so nice,” Duril said. “I am so grateful for the shop. I’ve never dreamed of having one of my own. Or maybe I have dreamed but never really thought I would be able to get one.” He was babbling nervously, as his mind could only think of the kiss and nothing else.

He really needed to calm down. Varg hadn’t meant anything by it. He was a handsome man who could pick and choose from among his many admirers. It was possible that he spent his days sharing kisses with various men, and Duril was just getting himself worked up over nothing other than his own desire for that kiss to have been more.

“That’s good. If anyone ever tries anything, anything at all, insults you, maybe steals from your shop, or worse, you know where to find me,” Varg said in a stern voice.

“Of course, of course,” Duril hurried to say. He remained with his eyes down, afraid to take a proper look at the wolfshifter.

“Am I imagining things or don’t you want to look at me?”

The question took him by surprise. Duril raised his eyes to be met by a roguish stare and a quirked eyebrow. He could feel his knees turning to butter under a steady gaze that made him experience the funniest sensation in the pit of his stomach.

“That’s better.” Varg’s voice was deep and sensuous.

Duril took one deep breath.

“Where is Toru?” Varg asked directly.

Of course, the wolfshifter wanted to know of Toru because he was the one Varg liked. Duril had understood as much although Varg had also said some pretty confusing things to him that he didn’t want to think of right now.

“I do not exactly know. He must have left on a quest early in the morning. Wait, I thought he would be with you,” Duril said. “Could it be that he went hunting by himself? I told him that without a proper weapon and armor --”

“Toru can hold his own without any of that,” Varg pointed out.

That was correct. Even during the attack of the rocs, Toru had refused any weapons and armor from the townsfolk. And he had proven himself to be the most valiant hero Whitekeep had known in a long time.

“It’s strange that he didn’t think of asking me if he was interested in a quest or an errand. He could go hunting and get a reward at the same time.”

“I guess he felt too energetic when he woke up to wait for anyone else to join,” Duril explained.

Varg nodded. The healer could feel a bit of disappointment coming from the wolfshifter and couldn’t blame him. After all, Duril had wanted to see Toru first thing in the morning, maybe even kiss him, and the bed had been empty. But it didn’t serve to be greedy. They would meet in the evening, again.

“I’ll leave you to do your work,” Varg said. “If Toru drops by, will you tell him that I asked about his whereabouts? There’s something I’d like to discuss with him.”

“Of course. As soon as he gets here, I’ll send him your way.”

“It’s nothing urgent.” Varg appeared a bit embarrassed.

If Duril didn’t know any better, he would say that the wolfshifter was smitten. Not that anyone in their right mind could blame him for that since Toru was a perfect seducer. Varg and Toru had kissed, too, and Duril needed to stop thinking of such things right away if he wanted to be capable of carrying on with his duties throughout the day.

“Even so, I will let him know. I think he wants to see you, too,” Duril added.

Varg smiled. “I hope so. Kitty has claws, you know.”

Duril laughed nervously. “I think so. But please don’t take it to heart. Toru is such a good soul.”

“I’m sure of that,” Varg replied, and his smile broadened.

There was a moment of silence, and Duril watched the wolfshifter as he was watched back. A sudden world of possibilities was opening before them, he thought, unsure of where that had come from.

“Then I’ll be on my way.”

“Sure. Glad you stopped by,” Duril offered his usual goodbye reserved for the customers.

“As am I,” Varg replied and smiled, this time slightly amused.

***

Duril looked at the door, then at the untouched plates on the table. The food had been cold for hours now, and after initially thinking that Toru was running late, anxiety was now replacing the pleasant fuzziness he had been experiencing while anticipating an intimate dinner with his housemate.

What could it be that kept him out of the house so late into the night? Duril dismissed the worrisome thoughts involving Toru, wild beasts, and other unpleasant things. His guest had proven again and again to be capable of holding his own. Unless someone somehow managed to take him by surprise, it was impossible for him to lose a fight. Varg was probably the only one who could do something to match Toru’s extraordinary strength, and there was no one like the wolfshifter in the entire land.

Such thoughts circled round and round in his mind as he began to pace the room. There was also another possibility. Duril stopped and sat on the edge of the bed, feeling dejected. Toru had mentioned his need to travel before, but could it be that he had left without even a goodbye? It made Duril experience again a long-buried emotion, one that ripped his heart wide open, old scars blossoming into fresh wounds.

No, he decided and his hand curled into a fist. He wouldn’t invite pain and unhappiness into his life just because he didn’t know any better. Toru would come back, probably with stories of extraordinary adventures, and he would sit and listen, enraptured by the youth’s enthusiasm and hunger for life.

***

He slept fitfully through the night, and the dawn didn’t bring any peace to his worried mind. Toru hadn’t come back at all, and the food he had left on the table was untouched. Still, if he had gone to hunt far from Whitekeep, it could take him days to come back. Still, Duril didn’t want to believe that Toru would leave for good without at least saying goodbye.

Without asking him again if he wanted to join him in his travels. Duril hadn’t known the answer the first time Toru had sprung the question on him, but he knew it now.

He was strange all right. Barely given a bit of attention and affection and he was ready to drop everything and join a stranger who was driven to travel all over the world. Toru was no stranger, though; deep inside his heart, Duril felt he knew him, like you knew someone you’d been waiting for your entire life. That was how he felt, and for that reason, his heart was full like never before.

With a sigh, he woke up fully and decided to ask Varg to look around for Toru. There was no one who knew those forests better than the wolfshifter. If Toru had gotten lost somehow, Varg would be the one to bring him back.

***

Varg had been surprised by the healer’s request since Duril was so naturally shy that the sole act of being the first to address someone seemed to cause him a lot of discomfort. But, in all truth, he had started to wonder more and more about where Toru could be. The tigershifter was wild and free, but Varg liked to think that he would say goodbye before deciding to leave them.

It was the third time he had left to explore the lands, but there was still no sign of the young tigershifter. It unnerved Varg to no end to be incapable of tracking a scent, especially since it was one he particularly enjoyed.

Could it be that Toru wanted things to be that way? Varg liked to think that he was a good judge of character, and Toru hadn’t struck him as the disloyal or cowardly type. Plus, he had seemed taken with the healer, and not that unresponsive when it came to sharing kisses with Varg, either.

He couldn’t help wondering if something had happened between the healer and the tigershifter. But Duril was such a gentle soul that it would have been hard to imagine him even getting into a fight. Varg was now well aware of the way the townsfolk had treated Duril, and all that time no one had seen the healer even getting mad once.

No, the healer was just as worried and confused about Toru’s disappearance, as he was. He found himself at the outskirts of Whitekeep when he realized where he was. Mumbled incantations could be heard coming from a yard not far away.

As much as he wasn’t fond of witches, Varg couldn’t say that Agatha warranted any of his usual distrust of magic. The old witch, as she called herself, was versed in healing and fortune telling, so there was nothing to worry about on her part. Also, he suspected her of pretending to cast incantations all day long just because she wasn’t fond of visitors. As long as people didn’t understand what she was doing she was left alone, and it looked like that was exactly what she wanted.

This time around, however, Varg would have to go against her wishes and ask her a question. He hadn’t forgotten how Agatha had asked for a hair from Toru’s tail, which she had probably procured herself.

“Ah, you’ve come,” Agatha welcomed him.

Varg frowned slightly. He disliked the idea of a future set in stone; it made him feel helpless, with both arms and legs tied, his entire self the toy of forces at work he knew nothing of. So he didn’t say a word as Agatha opened the gate and let him in.

“Has Toru come by?” he asked directly.

Agatha nodded. “Indeed, he did.”

Varg waited. “Well?” He became impatient when he noticed that Agatha didn’t volunteer any information.

“To find your answers, you must ask your questions, Sir Varg,” the old witch replied with a mischievous smile.

Of course. Witches and their propensity for making you work for the slightest piece of information.

“When was he here?”

“Two nights past,” Agatha replied.

“What did he want?”

“His memories.”

Varg understood. It was because of Agatha that it seemed as if Toru couldn’t remember how he had gotten well. He wasn’t one to question the ways of a witch, and if she needed Toru’s memories to heal him, that was that. Again, Agatha was silent, a sign that he needed to ask more questions if he wanted to find out more.

“What did you give him?”

“A way to fulfil his heart’s desire.”

“What was that?”

Agatha gestured for him to come inside. Varg had to bend to enter the small abode. The witch shimmied her way around pots and pans spread all over the floor, and he followed, not without kicking a few by accident and cursing out loud.

In a corner, on a large table, he noticed ashes spread all over the wooden surface. He walked closer and his eyes grew wide when he understood what he was looking at. Most of it was obscured since no one knew how long and wide their world was. One thing was sure; the entrance point, the only one clear of fog and tangled limbs, was Whitekeep.

“Where is he heading?” he asked without asking any useless questions.

Agatha pointed at the citadel rising at a fair distance from Whitekeep. Its grey walls gave off nothing but gloom, as Varg well knew. “So, he just left? Without leaving word?”

The witch touched his elbow, which she could do only by extending her arm and rising up on her toes. “Do not judge a young heart, Sir Varg. He said he would visit again.”

“Is this his future?” Varg pointed at the table. “I don’t think he’ll ever come back.”

Agatha shook her head. “The world is round, Sir Varg.”

He snorted, but then reconsidered. He didn’t like witches, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t recognize their wit and hidden strength. “Then I should wait until he falls off the other side of the world for him to come back here?”

“That’s not the right question, wolfshifter.” She changed tack, and it felt as if she was admonishing him.

Varg thought again. “Is he supposed to go on this journey alone?”

Agatha smiled. “No, and he doesn’t know it.”

“Couldn’t have you told him so?”

“A witch is not allowed to uncover truths that are not hers to uncover. The young tiger needs to learn this truth on his own.”

“Then I need to hurry and catch up with him.”

Agatha nodded and began walking about the room.

“You know, you could have told me he left,” Varg added.

“Unless I’m summoned by someone worthy, I can’t leave this place,” Agatha explained.

“That time, when I took you to heal Toru, was I worthy?”

“Stop asking questions you know the answers for, wolfshifter,” Agatha scolded him again. “Ah, here it is,” she said with satisfaction.

She handed him a vial in which dark waters moved. He took it and stared inside. “What is this for?”

“You’ll know it when the right time comes. Now, go. The young tiger is already far, a speck of dust in the distance.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Agatha threw him a pointed look.

Varg nodded. “Right, no useless questions.” He slid the vial in his leather pouch. He had a tiger to hunt down. But first, there were other important things to do.

TBC

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