Something Extra - Hungry Heart - Ch. 20 (Patreon)

Chapter One  / Chapter Two  / Chapter Three  / Chapter Four  / Chapter Five  / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Chapter Nine / Chapter Ten  / Chapter Eleven / Chapter Twelve / Chapter Thirteen / Chapter Fourteen / Chapter Fifteen / Chapter Sixteen / Chapter Seventeen / Chapter Eighteen / Chapter Nineteen 

Chapter Twenty – Full Moon

Ganon limped toward them, and Varg moved away from Toru and Duril so that he could talk to his pack member.

“You’re leaving again,” Ganon said matter-of-factly.

Varg looked away for a moment, not wanting to let Ganon read the truth in his eyes. Was it selfish of him to follow Toru? Was it unfair to his pack, especially during these terrible times? They counted on him for guidance and protection, and now he was leaving them.

Whatever it was that Ganon wanted to reproach him for, he was ready to hear it. He wouldn’t be moved from his conviction that he would do a lot more good, including for his pack, by joining Toru and Duril on the tigershifter’s quest.

“Yes, I am,” he replied.

He looked into Ganon’s eyes. Once they had arrived at Fairside, the wolfshifters had been able to shift again. They had all survived, and, in as bad shape as they were, they were still there, and that was what mattered.

Ganon surprised him by coming closer. He placed his hands on Varg’s shoulders and brought their foreheads close.

It was an encouragement and a sign of forgiveness. Varg mimicked Ganon’s gesture, their arms entwined, a display of the unbreakable bond between them.

“You’ll be protected here,” Varg said after a few moments.

“It feels safe. But who is going to protect you, leader?” Ganon asked softly.

“I won’t be alone.”

“But you won’t have us, either,” Ganon pointed out.

Didn’t he know it? It was not an easy thing to share with Toru and Duril, as faithful companions as they were.

“I’m not doing this to abandon you,” Varg said, his voice harsh.

“I’m not accusing you of that. Are they worthy of being your pack?” Ganon asked.

His brothers and sisters would remain there, in Fairside. One day, if the heavens allowed it, he would come back to them. What Toru and Duril were for him, it was something else. Something wonderful, but not his pack. His heart bled in his chest, but it was his duty not to let it show.

***

“Varg is leaving his people behind,” Toru said, as he observed the wolfshifter engaged in tense, quiet conversation with one of his pack members.

Duril turned his head in the same direction. “It cannot be easy for him. I know my heart is light as I walk with you.”

Toru couldn’t put into words how much that meant to him. “Whitekeep is no more,” he said.

“That’s not the reason why I don’t feel I’m leaving something behind,” Duril replied. “With you, every day is sweet and a new adventure.”

“One more dangerous than the last.”

“What good is a life if you don’t live it as you wish?”

“So, you didn’t really want that shop and to make potions all day long?” Toru cocked his head to the side and threw Duril a rueful smile.

“I thought I did. Until I met you, and then, my dreams stopped being small.”

Toru paused and then sighed as he looked into the distance. “The weather is so fair here. I get why they call it Fairside.”

“A fitting name, indeed,” Duril agreed. “But you’re looking for the clouds, aren’t you?”

None were in sight, but what Agatha had showed them while working her magic with the ashes was heavy on their hearts.

“I am,” Toru admitted. “We might just have to cleanse the world of evil, little by little, if what that old witch says is true.”

“Then our task is a noble one.”

Toru shrugged and rubbed one ear. “What’s an orphan tiger like me have to do with saving the world?”

Duril laughed gently and laid his hand on his arm. “You still cannot wrap your head around it, can you?”

Toru nodded. In a nutshell, that was what he thought.

“You may not see it, but I do, each time I look at you. You’re something special, Toru. Ever since you fell into my arms after you knocked on my door, all I could think of was how I never met someone like you before.”

“I thought I was just a tiger.”

“Were there others like you, where you lived before?”

Toru shook his head. “No, but some wise man told me I was a tiger. And down there,” he gestured vaguely, “where the weather’s warm, there are tigers about.”

“Did you ever try to get closer to them?”

“In passing. I didn’t feel like I belonged with them. They even tried to get me to marry once.” He snickered.

Duril offered him a secretive smile. “Then I’m lucky you said ‘no’ to that marriage proposal.”

It took Toru a little to realize what the healer meant by that, and he was ready and eager for a display of affection, when Rory, Onyx, and Zul hurried toward them.

“We don’t have a lot just yet, but we thought you could use more food,” Rory said first.

“And clothes,” Onyx added.

“And some blankets,” Zul chimed in.

Toru grimaced as everything got piled into his arms. They were at the gates now, ready to begin their new travels. It was still early in the morning, as they didn’t want to cause a commotion. Onyx had to prove he could be a leader, and not just by counting on his newfound friends, as Duril had delicately explained to him. Varg had seconded that, insisting that they needed to leave without a fanfare to send them off.

The people who mattered the most were doing that, though. Except for the old witch, but Toru had a hunch she was observing them from one of the high towers. All she had to say to them had already been said.

“How am I supposed to carry everything?” he complained.

Duril hurried to take some of the things from his arms, and Varg came closer.

“We’re not even out of the gate, kitty, and you complain about having to carry too much food,” the wolfshifter teased him. “Here, let me take some. We’ll need it later.”

Toru turned toward the ones they had to leave behind. Rory hugged him first. “When you become a king,” the innkeeper said with shiny eyes, “don’t forget about us.”

“A king?” Toru asked. “I’m not going to become that. And I’ll come back to eat your pork stew.”

Rory laughed and pressed his forehead against his chest, one time, hard, and then let go of him, only to move on to Duril and Varg.

Zul was next. The rabbitshifter was eerily beautiful in his human form, and Toru couldn’t put that together with the image of the rabbit he had been adventuring with, the one who was all nutty and spoke strange things. That is until he opened his mouth.

“We’ve been through some things, and you’ll have to go through more,” Zul said quickly. “I hope you’ll come back in one piece. Each of you in his own one piece,” he added hurriedly. “I wish you all the best and safe travels.”

“Aren’t you going to give me a hug?” Toru asked and opened his arms wide.

“I don’t know if I should. I’m nothing but a servant.”

“I held you in my teeth by the scruff of your neck,” Toru pointed out. “I think you can hug me.”

He was just teasing the poor rabbit, so he was surprised when Zul smashed against him and held him tight for a short moment. Then he retreated rapidly and allowed his master to step forward.

“In the name of Fairside, I want to thank you for your service, as well as for everything you will do for us in the future,” Onyx said solemnly. He offered his hand, and Toru shook it. He could joke with Zul all he wanted, but the lord of the land was a different matter. Onyx had a hard task ahead of him, and it wouldn’t help if they all babied him or reminded him of how helpless he had been before.

“We’ll return one day,” Toru promised.

Duril and Varg said their farewells, too. It felt odd. Before, he had always run, without looking back. He didn’t grow attached to places or people, but now, things were different. Now, he was leaving friends behind.

***

They were almost a day away from Fairside, when the weather began to change. A ghastly wind started to whisper through the trees and clouds gathered above their heads. Toru wasn’t worried about wetting his fur as it was thick and would keep him warm. He knew Varg had the same advantage, but Duril wasn’t like them. The human part was interlaced with his orc side, so he didn’t have the choice of not feeling the cold rain.

“Maybe we should find shelter,” he suggested. “The night is falling fast.”

Duril was traveling on his back, and he hadn’t complained yet. Varg walked behind them, and there was tension in the way the wolfshifter moved, sniffing the air, but keeping whatever he must have sensed to himself.

“I’ll go search for a dry place to spend the night.” Varg stated as he sauntered toward the forest.

Toru stopped, and Duril slid off his back.

“What do you think?” Toru asked. He knew Varg must be thinking of the pack he had left behind.

“He has the right to mourn,” Duril replied, knowing without asking what Toru meant by his question.

“Is there anything we can do?”

“For him? I guess we must be here for him, as friends.”

Toru couldn’t believe he was saying these words, but he had done wilder things before. “But how about we do… mutt things?”

“Mutt things?” Duril asked.

“Yeah. We’re his pack now, whether he likes it or not. Only we’re not wolves,” Toru said quickly. “What do mutts do?”

“I don’t know much about it. They have a strong sense of bonding, for sure,” Duril replied, as he fell pensive.

“So, should we… bond with him? Is he ready for something like that?”

The healer placed his hand on Toru’s shoulder. “Whatever we do, it will be from the heart. And even if he may not be ready, he will still have the solace of knowing that we are here for him, no matter what he needs.”

***

The sky turned a dark grey rapidly. With the evening setting in, the clouds above filled the sky, an ominous sign of a deeper darkness that was to come. Heavy droplets began to fall, and Varg looked up, allowing them to drown his eyes and let them swim in ghosts for a moment.

Death was a natural thing. Wolfshifters lived long lives, so Varg had witnessed it seldom among his own. The war had been different, with all parties losing people.

But whatever had happened in Whitekeep was strange and frightening. Varg would never allow anyone to see his weakness, the short and intense stab of fear that had paralyzed him in place when he had seen his pack rendered so helpless.

All for the better, he was on a quest to find the source of that evil, catch it by the throat, and bite and strangle and chew it until it breathed no more. If it had breath, it wouldn’t have it for long, losing it the moment Varg confronted it fair and square.

If only things were that simple. Varg sniffed the air. A faint whiff of smoke, brought by the wind, tickled his nostrils. Somewhere, people were building fires. But something of that scent didn’t remind him of a hearth and food being cooked over a fire, but instead it made him think of a funeral pyre and its unbearable stench.

The clouds above parted, letting the moon shine through. Varg threw his head back and howled.

***

“Is that Varg?” Duril asked, listening attentively.

The rain was still light, but he was soaked through. Toru had decided to wrap himself around the healer, so he wasn’t cold. The lonesome howl in the distance woke him up from the torpor brought on by Toru’s soft fur and body heat.

“He must have found a dry place for us,” Toru offered, although he didn’t sound convinced of that at all.

Duril understood the meaning of that howl. It was a way for the wolfshifter to grieve for his lost pack. Toru surprised him by rising on all paws and beginning to roar.

Inwardly, he allowed himself to admit that the sound of Toru’s roar was making his hair stand on end. No one in their right mind would go against the tiger, once they looked at him. It was easy to imagine now why he was able to fight an army of rocs and survive where others would have failed.

They were yet to face even bigger trials. Duril stared at the sky and saw the moon, a strange pale apparition among the heavy clouds, filled with rain.

An even howl was the answer to Toru’s roar, so the tigershifter roared again. This time, Varg’s howl was even again, a call, not the ragged sound of mourning like before.

“He’s calling for us,” Toru said. “He should hear you, too.”

“Hear me? How? I cannot howl,” Duril replied.

“Try it. We’re all wolves tonight.”

Duril shook his head. He had no doubts that Varg could hear Toru’s roar loud and clear, but what was he supposed to do?

“Just do it. He needs to hear you,” Toru insisted. “Like this.” He threw his head back, a strange gesture for a tiger, and let out another fierce roar.

Tentatively, Duril opened his mouth and shouted. It was loud in his ears and surprised him. He had never tried to shout before. Whenever the others were mean or hurt him, he had chosen to remain silent. Although life had been very hard for him and his mother, he had never cried, either. But, right now, for all of the people in Whitekeep who had lost their lives, for Varg’s pack and for everything lost and left behind, he began to cry out.

“You must be more orc than you think,” Toru joked. “Let’s join Varg. I hope the mutt found a good place. I’m beat.”

Somehow, Duril doubted that, but he knew Toru wanted him to have a roof over his head, even if it meant that they found shelter in a den for wild animals.

***

The den Varg had found was large enough for them to start a fire, so Duril got to work right away. Luckily for them, there were some dry branches that must have been brought inside long before the rain by whatever creature had previously inhabited the place.

“You should take your clothes off so that I can dry them,” Duril advised.

Toru had no problem shedding the few garments he normally wore. But then, to the healer’s surprise, the tigershifter hurried to help Varg out of his leather armor.

“Kitty,” Varg teased in a rough voice, “I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t,” Toru replied right away with a grunt, “but I don’t like the smell of wet mutt.”

Varg shook his head, splashing droplets everywhere from his long hair. Toru bristled right away and surprised the wolfshifter with an underhanded attack. Together, they fell to the ground, almost ending up in the barely lit fire.

“You two are such children,” Duril chided them, but without conviction.

While Varg and Toru wrestled, he managed to snatch their clothes, piece by piece, as apparently, they used their tussle as an opportunity to undress the wolfshifter, too.

Duril observed his two companions as they were locked in a fierce embrace, every muscle straining, while completely naked. Their mingled breaths were deep and harsh. He shook his head and began stretching their garments near the heat of the fire so they would be able to wear them tomorrow.

***

Toru caught Varg under him and pinned him down. “Don’t think I don’t know all your tricks already, mutt.”

“You have decades to live and learn if you want to catch up with me,” Varg provoked him.

“You’re not that old.”

“Ah, so I made you admit that I’m not old.”

Toru jumped to his feet and offered Varg a hand. He had trouble not looking down the wolfshifter’s torso and didn’t want to be caught doing that, either. But they needed dry clothes, so it was normal for them to be naked.

Varg crouched by the fire and stretched out his arms to warm his hands. Toru exchanged one short look with Duril and took a place beside the wolfshifter.

“Are we your pack now?” he asked directly.

Duril frowned slightly at him, but he ignored him.

“My pack?” Varg turned his head, and his eyes appeared darker, even with the fire reflected in them.

“Yeah. You travel with us now.”

“I didn’t know a kitten like you wanted to become a wolf.”

“It’s not like I have much of a choice, right? But you’re not the alpha or whatever,” he hurried to add. “And Duril wants to be in your pack, too.”

“Is that true?” Varg trained his attention on the healer.

Duril nodded. “We know we cannot replace the people you lost, but we will do our best.”

Varg looked at him again. “You, too, kitty? Will you do your best to become a wolf?”

Toru shifted, but he knew that he had to own up to that. “Yes. For you.”

***

Varg ran one hand over his eyes and began laughing softly. Toru was as subtle as a boulder in his efforts to comfort him, but with the tigershifter, he had to take what he could get. Duril was a different matter. The healer was staring at him with his big warm eyes full of hope.

“Well,” he said, “then you should prove yourselves.”

“What for?” Toru asked.

“I don’t accept just anyone as part of my pack,” Varg explained. “First of all, I’m the alpha or whatever.”

Duril and Toru must have been worrying about him, so he needed to put their minds at ease. What better way than to provoke the kitten?

“Who says that?” Toru growled and stared at him fiercely.

“I say.” Varg moved fast and caught Toru in a headlock.

The warm body under him struggled, igniting new fires in his blood. But Varg didn’t budge and didn’t allow his body and its instincts to take over, either.

“I can’t move,” Toru complained.

“Good. I’m asserting my dominance.”

“Your what?”

Varg grinned. “Accept me as your leader,” he said in a low grumble.

“No way.” Toru struggled, but Varg knew what he was doing very well, and the kitty wouldn’t be able to get out of that hold. “Ah, damn it, you’re so heavy,” he added.

“Now that I’ve got you where I want you, listen to me carefully.”

“How come I’m the only one you’re holding down like this?” Toru complained.

“I don’t need to restrain Duril. He is wise and knows I mean well.”

Varg could tell Toru had turned his head to search for the healer’s eyes and the confirmation in them. He didn’t have to do the same because he knew the truth about the healer’s heart already.

“I do,” Duril confirmed anyway.

“So, what do you want?” Toru provoked him and glared up at him from below.

Varg had known a truth for a long time. A true leader didn’t show weakness. But truth was a funny and flexible thing. He was among friends now, equals. They had no time to waste on sorrow. What they would do tonight would seal their friendship forever.

“I’ll turn you into wolves tonight,” he promised.

Toru offered him a lopsided grin. “I’ll never be a mutt.”

The tiger knew what he was doing. Playful banter aside, Varg realized as much. His two companions wanted to offer him comfort for the loss of his pack. What was left of it remained in Fairside, under the flag of a different house, and that meant that even if he returned one day, he couldn’t claim to be their leader again. He had left them in good company and Onyx’s house was the best home he could find for his pack.

That left him without a pack, and Duril and Toru must have felt that his loss was deeper than what he had lost in Whitekeep.

It was the right moment for finding another pack and, even if it would be a pack like no other, Varg wouldn’t trade his friends for anything in the world.

“Well, whether you want to or not, you will become a mutt,” Varg said.

Toru pouted for a short moment. “What do I have to do? Show you my belly and wag my tail?”

Varg pursed his lips. The kitty shouldn’t joke like that while buck naked under him. It was enough to make him want to do naughty things to him. So, he pushed himself up and offered Toru his hand. “No, and I don’t think you would know how to do it properly.”

Toru took offense right away. “What do you mean by that? I can wag my tail.”

“A kitty wagging his tail is a sign he’s annoyed and ready to claw someone to death.”

Duril snickered. Toru looked down, but he did so to hide a smile Varg noticed right away. He walked toward the entrance and looked outside. The rain had grown heavier, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Soon, the full force of the storm would be near.

“Wherever we go,” he began, “we need to know each other’s voices. When I call for you, you should know it’s me. And when you call for me, I’ll need to know it’s you.”

“Sounds simple enough.” Toru came beside him and looked outside, into the darkness. “We’ll just play hide and seek, right?”

“Let me hear your roar,” Varg prodded him.

Without another word, he shifted and dove in the deluge.

***

“Does he really mean that?” Duril approached Toru carefully.

The rain draped the world outside the den in a heavy blanket and the sky was covered. Not a star was in sight. But then, as if a magical hand rearranged the sky, the full moon appeared through the clouds.

“He does,” Toru confirmed and shifted into his tiger form. He leaped into the rain, leaving Duril behind.

For a moment, he hesitated. They were shifters, majestic and powerful.

“Duril! Are you coming?” Toru’s voice summoned him.

The time for hesitation was long past, burned and buried in the ruins at Whitekeep. Duril shed his clothes and dashed into the rain. From far away, Varg’s howls and Toru’s roars let him know where they were.

At first, the rain was cold and harsh on his skin. But Duril straightened up, slammed his fist against his chest and let out the loudest war cry that had ever left his throat. His blood roared with new found purpose. His feet moved of their own accord and soon he was running through the heavy rain, ignoring it or not feeling it at all.

***

Varg stopped at the ridge and stared at the wedge of rock in the middle of what must have been an old valley created by a river that didn’t run through it anymore. The rain rushing through it created the illusion of a ghostly body of water. One leap, and he would be on the other side.

He howled again and waited for Toru’s roar and Duril’s war cry. Once he got his confirmation, he jumped to the other side. From time to time, despite the storm raging around them, the full moon shone through the clouds, applying its silver leaf to the tree crowns.

Varg raised his head and sniffed the air. Most animals would be hidden in their dens in such weather, but he didn’t mistake the scent he smelled for something else.

***

Toru moved silently and stopped by Varg’s side. Duril joined them moments later. They watched the deer stretching its neck toward the ground and waited.

“We hunt together?” Toru asked in a low voice.

Varg nodded. “We hunt together.”

Their prey must have sensed something and raised its head. A sliver of moonlight reflected in its limpid eyes. Varg pounced first.

***

Duril sank his teeth into the raw meat without protesting. He could hear the sharp fangs of the two shapeshifters doing the hard work of cutting through the game meat. No one was talking. The kill had been merciful. Varg had gone for the throat and Toru had leaped to keep the trembling body down.

He had just knelt in front of it, covering its eyes with one hand and murmuring words of thanks. Varg and Toru hadn’t said a thing, they hadn’t rebuked him for his contribution to the hunt. Their shared their prey now, and Duril could feel his blood racing with new life.

Something deep and wild was growing inside him tonight. With it came strength and a knowledge of things that would come. No longer a victim of fate, but a maker of it, that was what he became as his teeth ripped the meat apart into chunks he could chew and swallow.

***

They took the remains of the deer back to the den. Varg took charge of the hide while Duril cleaned the bones and buried them. Toru observed everything with wide eyes.

His companions joined him around the fire. They looked like savages, all naked, with streaks of blood on their bodies. They were alive, the three of them.

“Are we your wolves now?” Toru asked quietly.

Vard nodded solemnly. “That you are.”

“Good,” Duril interjected. “Then we should wash a little.”

Varg turned his head and threw an enigmatic look at the healer. Toru tensed, but then the wolfshifter broke into loud laughter. He relaxed and smiled at Duril.

Varg stood to his feet. “We turned you into a barbarian tonight, didn’t we, Duril?”

Only then the healer must have realized he had accidentally torn the moment between them. He raised his hand and began waving it in denial. “No, no, not at all. I mean, if there’s a ritual that we should --”

Varg stopped him by placing a heavy hand on Duril’s shoulder. “No ritual. You proved yourselves.”

“Do I really have to go back into the rain?” Toru complained. “It’s cold.” Not that he minded so much, but he liked sitting by the fire.

Varg surprised him by picking him up from the floor and throwing him over one shoulder. “Don’t be a messy kitty.”

Toru wanted to protest, but the wolfshifter upped the ante by smacking his bottom once, but hard. “Put me down, mutt.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll claw your face in your sleep.”

Varg laughed and put him down. “For a moment there, I thought someone had taken your place.”

“Why?” Toru asked, rightfully feeling confused.

“Because you’ve been nice to me all night.”

Toru stuck out his tongue and crossed his arms. “I just wanted to comfort you, mutt.”

“Good. You’ve done that. Now we have a world to save.”

Varg walked out of the den with those words. Toru stared at his back. He knew what the wolfshifter wanted to say. For what awaited them they had to be strong, not dwelling on what they left behind.

***

“What’s Shroudharbor like?” Toru fell in step with Varg who was leading the way now, his feet steady and his stride proud.

“You want to know if they’ve got good food, right?” The wolfshifter smiled like he already knew what Toru wanted to know.

“Not only that,” he retorted. He hesitated for just one moment. “What kind of food do they have?”

“It’s by the seaside. They have a lot of fish and prey on other creatures of the sea.”

“The sea, is it big?”

Varg pondered for a moment. “It’s called the Sea of Shells. It’s so clear that you can see the shells of small creatures on the bottom.”

“So, it’s shallow.”

Varg shook his head. “Just treacherous. And people tell many tales about it. They seem to want the place they come from to have something magical about it. Or at least out of the ordinary.”

“What are we going to do there?”

“Duril will pursue his vocation as a scholar,” Varg joked and threw a look over his shoulder at the healer who was picking herbs along the way and stashing them in his pouch. “Maybe he will learn something interesting from the library and the greybeards there.”

“What about us?”

“We’ll go around, get the lay of the land. If what Agatha says it’s true, we should notice signs of ill-intent.”

“Do you really believe that this darkness or whatever it is… swallows the world?”

Varg looked into the distance. “We cannot know everything,” he said softly. “But we do know that there’s a quest we must follow. That’s enough for me.”

Toru knew what the wolfshifter wasn’t asking directly. Was it enough for him, too? “I followed my instinct,” he said.

“It brought you to us, and it looks like you are needed. We all need you.”

“Don’t you blame me?” Toru blurted out. “At least a little?”

“Why would I? You didn’t destroy my pack or Whitekeep. Our common enemy did. Whatever it is, it will pay.”

Toru nodded. “I don’t like water too much,” he said, all of a sudden.

Varg laughed. “Then it’s a bit unfortunate that we’re heading to a port by the sea, isn’t it?”

“It’s the closest place to here, right? Then I can live on fish, too.”

“So, we’ll have to turn into fishermen.”

“And go on the water?”

Varg slammed his hand one time, hard, on Toru’s back. “We’ll get you sea legs, kitty.”

“I don’t want them.”

He wanted to protest some more, but then his nose caught a familiar scent.

“What is it, Toru?” Varg asked, taking in his tense posture.

“It looks like we’re heading in the right direction. My nose just caught something.”

Varg nodded. “That’s good. This scent, what’s it like?”

Toru closed his eyes for a moment and let his senses soak again in the newly rediscovered smell. “Like home, although I never had one.”

“No wonder the pull is so strong then,” Varg said. “Even if you never had a home, your heart knows what it is.”

“But how does that work? We’re heading for battle, but all I sense is the scent of home.”

The immediate answer was a shrug. “That’s just another thing we’ll need to find out, right?”

Toru could only agree. The longing in his heart was with him once again.

TBC

Next chapter