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Chapter Twenty-Four

Korik

When Korik dropped his awareness into the earth the next morning—or what felt like the morning—he could tell immediately that the worst of the storm had passed. He still couldn’t find any birds braving the winds, but the small creatures that he could latch onto were inspecting their surroundings now, rather than hiding away in their dens and burrows. A fox was cautiously pacing through the snow and squinting against the flakes that blew into its vision, while a rabbit had dug its way out of its tunnel, now sniffing around for the cold sprigs of grass and leaves underneath.

Trying to navigate down the mountain in the lingering storm would be foolish, but at least the end was in sight. He expected to be relieved at the knowledge—and certainly part of him was—but another part of him felt almost disappointed that whatever this was between him and Varen would probably be gone with the storm. Like the elf had said, this was only to pass the time, to keep warm, to have an outlet for their energy. For fun , he’d said. Korik doubted they would have any need or time for fun once they were on their way again.

He wasn’t sure why it felt so much like a loss. Before this, he’d been abstinent for years and hadn’t really missed it. When more elves had come to Drol Kuggradh, he had grown curious about how relationships between elves and orcs might develop, especially when tending to the elf prince and his child; but that had been mostly clinical, not something he had any intention of acting on. This was different: Varen seemed to attract his eyes like magnets and simultaneously made him feel like a bumbling fool, yet less self-conscious than he had been with anyone else.

He liked this version of Varen, or at least liked him better than the Varen he had first encountered when they left Drol Kuggradh with Enriel. He had been insufferable, truly. This Varen was still domineering, arrogant, and sassy; but lacked the sharp edge that he’d had before. His words were often just as jabbing, but somehow the intent behind them felt light and joyful, rather than cold and judgmental. Korik couldn’t really place the change, but was keenly aware of it all the same.

Was it always like this? Having friends, making connections? He had been so withdrawn for so long; it was hard to judge just what exactly was going on between them.

Korik realized he’d been ruminating on all this while still inhabiting the body of the little rabbit in the snow, whose instincts had taken over while he’d been unfocused. It almost made him laugh to think of his thoughts filling its uncomprehending mind as it sniffed around for food.

He released it and came back to himself, eyes flickering open in the dim light of their own den. It was warmer now than when he had started; he’d noticed the same yesterday, too, and appreciated that Varen had kept up on warming up the stones to keep them comfortable. Considering how cool the ground was on his hands, the warmth was now very welcome.

“Seems like it’ll be over soon,” he said, rubbing his icy fingers. “I’ll check again in a few hours. I don’t think we should leave today, but maybe if it clears up faster than expected...”

“That’s a relief,” Varen sighed. “No, if you think it’s better to wait, we should still wait. But having the end in sight makes it feel easier, don’t you think?”

Korik nodded. And it would give them an extra day together like this—not that he would ever say so out loud.

“Means we don’t have to ration our food so strictly, either,” Varen added, reaching for the bundle of frozen rabbit meat. That was also a benefit. The meat warmed quickly with their magic; and instead of carefully dividing one between them, they each had their own, along with a small piece of hard bread and a handful of berries. It was still a small meal for Korik, but was far more satisfying than the others had been.

Varen chattered at him for a little while, telling him a story of some famous elven hunter, but Korik was only half-listening now. His mind kept wandering back to the memory of the day before, the lingering ache of where Varen had been inside of him. They would still need to pass some time today, wouldn’t they? Maybe Varen would want to go again...

To his surprise, though, after telling his long-winded story for a while, Varen seemed to tire and quietly curled back into his bedroll. Korik looked at him for a moment, and the elf did seem to be sleeping. Maybe all the activity had worn him out more than he’d realized.

But Korik didn’t feel tired, so he busied himself with warming up the stones around them. Then he pulled out some of the wood that he’d saved and continued the work he had started on makeshift snowshoes. Once the storm was over, they would head out, but he doubted the snow would melt away now that it had started. He cut the leftover wood into long, thin strips to figure out a way to securely hook the panels to their feet.

A strange storm roiled inside of his chest. He very much wanted to be done with all this and go home; yet at the same time, he was inexplicably looking forward to the time that he and Varen had left together. It felt odd to want such vastly different things, especially when his feelings toward Varen had been decidedly negative at first; but he could not deny that he did want both things.

Life had been so much simpler before he was dragged into this adventure, that much was for sure. He could only hope his quiet life was still waiting for him when he finally got home.

The edge of the knife grazed his fingertip, the sting pulling him from his thoughts. He hissed in pain, reflexively sticking his finger in his mouth. The blood was coppery on his tongue. It was a small cut and took little effort to knit closed with magic. Still, he chided himself. He needed to pay attention to what he was doing, no matter how distracting the image of the sleeping elf beside him was.

In the end, Varen didn’t ask for a third time, and Korik was too nervous to ask himself. When he checked again, the storm was clearing up, but the sky remained dark. They would sleep here, but he expected that it would be safe for them to leave in the morning.

Varen grinned, relieved, when he told him as much. The elf had spent the last several hours pacing the den restlessly, clearly much more eager to leave than Korik was.

When they settled down to sleep again, Korik lay awake for what felt like hours, wondering if Varen would reach for him again in the night, like how he had that first time. The elf was close to him. They were bundled under the same blanket, still sharing body heat; but no wandering hands or lingering touches came.

It was just as well, he told himself. It wasn’t meant to last. To pass the time, to have some fun, just as Varen had said. He shouldn’t be disappointed that was all Varen wanted. Varen had been up front about his intentions, and Korik had agreed. That was all there was to it.

Sleep eventually took him, though, and he woke to the sound of Varen standing and stretching. The elf glanced over at him as he sat up, then smiled. Korik’s heart stuttered.

“Sorry to wake you,” Varen said. “I think the storm is over. I didn’t hear any wind outside. Might as well get an early start while we can, though, right?”

“R-right,” Korik stammered, rubbing his eyes.

“Why don’t you take a look to see if you can find the best route out of here, and I’ll pack everything up?” Varen offered, and Korik nodded.

This time, when he looked through the eyes of the wildlife outside, the mountainside was teeming with life. The morning sun crested over the horizon, reflecting off the pure white snow that blanketed everything. In the trees, all manner of birds were out searching for food; and below, small animals burrowed through the snow or leapt atop it, leaving their footprints behind. But the sky was clear, and the wind was mild. Somehow, they had weathered the storm.

Korik used a few different birds to get different vantage points. Each time he found where he and Varen were tucked away against the mountainside, then picked a new direction to determine the easiest path. It would all be slow going in such thick snow, but he thought they could make some decent headway. If the weather didn’t turn again, they should be able to make slow but steady progress down the mountain. Within a few days, maybe a week if the snow remained piled high, they could make it to that natural hot spring Korik had spotted when they first arrived.

He came back to himself as Varen was shaking the dirt off his blankets and rolling them up. Varen noticed him stirring and smiled over at him again, which made Korik flush. The elf was in a cheerful mood, clearly.

“We should be alright to keep heading east,” Korik muttered, getting to his feet. “The snow will be a pain, though.”

“I’ll follow your lead,” Varen said, and for some reason, that struck Korik more than the elf’s smiles. Varen trusted him that much. He had said they needed to trust each other to survive. Korik had believed him then, of course; but something about hearing it now, the casual way the elf said it, stopped him in his tracks entirely. He felt his face warming, as Varen noticed him staring, but he still couldn’t bring himself to look away.

“What’s wrong?” Varen asked, frowning. Korik shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” the elf protested. Korik found himself unable to reply. What could he possibly say that wouldn’t sound pathetic or ridiculous?

Suddenly, Varen’s expression turned into a smug grin, and he added, “Oh, I see. Well, we can still keep each other warm on the road, if you feel so strongly about it. I don’t mind.”

Korik’s face burned all over again—less of that pleasant, tingling warmth, and more of the embarrassed heat that he was so used to.

“Yes. That,” he muttered, busying himself with packing away his own bedroll. Despite Varen’s soft laugh and calm expression, Korik’s stomach churned with regret. It felt as though he had had just one brief chance to say something truly heartfelt to Varen, and it had slipped right through his grasp. He’d always thought his leaden tongue would cost him dearly one day, and maybe that day had come.

No, maybe not. Even if he had told Varen something as saccharine as, “thank you for trusting me”, he doubted it would have moved the elf enough for anything to change between them. It was wishful thinking.

But when had he started wishing for more between them? Sometimes it felt as if he didn’t know his own mind anymore. The thought was heavy in his chest as he finished packing up his belongings.

Korik used his magic to remove the hard-packed dirt sealing them in, then with some effort, they dug their way through the thick layer of snow. The feel of it was a cold shock to the surprising warmth they had kept in the cave. When they finally emerged outside, the icy, fresh air snapped Korik back into reality in an instant. Already, their days spent in the cave felt like a distant, hazy dream compared to how bright and sharp everything around them was. The morning sun reflected off the white snow, and the frigid air bit at his lungs and nostrils as he breathed.

“Gods, that’s cold,” Varen hissed, his words coming out with a puff of steam beside him. Then he gestured for Korik to go ahead of him. “Lead the way.”

Korik took in a deep, bracing breath. The cold filled his lungs, then he stepped through the heavy snow. The snowshoes that he’d worked on in his free time helped, but they weren’t perfect, and some steps still sank further into the soft snow than he would have liked. Still, it was better than having nothing at all.

For a while, they walked in silence, the only sound between them the crunch of snow underfoot and their breaths rising in puffs of warm steam. It was an arduous journey to be sure, so Varen didn’t have much extra breath to be talking at all hours. Korik wasn’t sure if it was a relief, or if he missed the constant background noise.

They paused whenever Varen heard animals nearby, but it was never anything larger than a rabbit. The elf snared rabbits and squirrels with his magic, rather than shooting at them with his bow; Korik noticed his quiver seemed less full now than it had when they’d first set out. He kept an eye out for anything they could forage, too; but with the snow blanketing the earth, there wasn’t much to glean off the land.

The sun was descending toward the horizon when Korik spotted a cave nestled into a nearby hillside. It was unlikely they would find a better place to camp, so even though they probably had another hour of good daylight, they stopped for the day. Cold sweat coated his body, and his muscles ached with exertion. This was a much harder journey now than it had been before the storm, he thought bitterly—they would make it, but it would be a struggle.

Varen set up his bedroll next to Korik’s, even though this cave was bigger than their little den had been, and there was really no need to be so close. When they had eaten and cleaned up—Korik’s skin still smarted from using magic to scrub himself clean—Varen pulled him down into bed with him again. It was all a tangle of hands and tongue and teeth, his mind racing with worry and exhilaration and pleasure all at once.

Was it always like this? Had he been missing out on this all this time? Or was it Varen? Would it have been like this with anyone else?

He didn’t know. He probably never would. All he could do, he told himself afterward—as he lay on his back, looking up at the flickering shadows on the ceiling cast by the lingering embers of their campfire—was enjoy this while it lasted.