Something Extra - Hungry Heart - Ch. 1 (Patreon)

Author's note:  

Hi, guys, here I am with a new installment for the Something Extra category! This time, Dave asked me if I could write a longer story, so this one will be a multi-chapter series. It’s something that I have never tried before – a story with shapeshifters – but Dave convinced me that I could do it. The ideas for the main characters were supplied by him, as well as the general setting, while I concocted the words to fill the spaces in-between. As always, when asked, Dave told me that he would be happy to share the story with you. So, here we go!

Summary:

For years, Toru has drifted in search of his lost tribe, until he reaches the white lands in the north. A scent carried by the wind brought him here, and nothing will stop him from finding his kin. Not the cold nights, not the morose people that never smile, not the food that’s never plenty. He has to find them, or he would live in vain. Little he knows that what he will find might not be what he imagines, but everything his hungry heart desires.

Chapter One – Drifting

Toru moved slowly, wincing as a floorboard creaked under his naked feet. His perked ears caught movement from the bed. Damn, and he thought he would get to make himself disappear without goodbyes. 

“It’s not yet breaking dawn,” a sleepy voice said.

Toru turned his head and looked at the innkeeper’s son, the young man he had spent the night with. He didn’t care for things like money, but he had plenty of other things he could offer for food and board when needed. He was a good hunter.

And a good lover, too.

“It’s cold outside. Are you sure you don’t want to come back to bed?” 

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to. But the scent he had caught was capricious; one moment it was there, only to vanish the next. His keen sense of smell had awakened him, and he couldn’t waste another precious moment.

A moment that would keep him away from those he belonged to. Truly belonged. As beautiful as the young man calling for him was, he was just a human, someone who could never understand him truly.

“I must be on my way,” he replied, hoping that his voice wasn’t harsh or ungrateful.

“All right. Just wait a little.” The young man climbed out of bed and went out the door, only to come back a few minutes later with a sack that seemed pretty heavy. “Here. For you, to have on the way.”

Toru moved from one foot to another. He could see in the dark as if it was broad daylight, but the other couldn’t and was handing him the sack somewhat obliquely, not clearly making out where Toru stood.

“I shouldn’t. I took enough from you.”

A small laugh followed. “You loved me plenty last night, Toru. I can’t recall when was the last time I struck such a good deal for half a bed and a steak.”

Toru licked his lips. The bed had been warm and the steak delicious. The one he had shared the bed with hadn’t been half bad, either. 

“Take it,” the innkeeper’s son insisted. “You look like there’s a long road ahead of you.”

“I don’t really know where I’m going.” It was the truth. 

“All the more reason for you to take this. You never know when you’ll find food again. At least this should last you for a while.”

Toru took the sack with hesitant hands. It looked like the other didn’t have to see that well in the dark. He marched right into him and embraced him, rubbing his head against Toru’s chest. 

“If you ever visit these parts again, don’t be a stranger.”

Toru felt a small lump in his throat. “I won’t.”

“Now go. I still need to catch a few hours of sleep before my father makes me slave away my life for yet another day.”

Toru returned the embrace. He was quick out the door. While he loved being around humans, he didn’t know what to do with them. He could never show them his true nature without scaring them. He was sure the innkeeper’s son would not hurry into his embrace like that if he knew that Toru was, beneath his human appearance, a beast with fur, fangs, and claws. 

***

A white mist rose from the trees. Perched on his vantage point, Toru looked down and clicked his tongue. Nothing but a dark green expanse from here to eternity. But that wasn’t enough to keep him from tracking the scent. It was familiar and made him think of home, although he had never known where or what that was.

He needed to find out. It was easy for him to get down from the tree and leap to the frozen ground. Spring was around the corner, but it was still not there, and in the white lands in the north, it had to be like nothing Toru knew.

The sack with food the innkeeper’s son had given him was long gone, and Toru felt the pangs of hunger stabbing his insides. He could go without food for days; but he couldn’t lie in wait for prey to walk in front of him as he was used to. These lands were harsh and if you wanted food, you had to go looking for it.

The innkeeper’s son had wondered at his lack of shoes, but Toru didn’t need any. The young man had wondered at his lack of warm clothes, too, but, again, Toru needed nothing except the thick coat on his back that protected him from cold and heat alike. It had grown thicker since he had traveled to these parts, and the frozen air didn’t bother him. He preferred to travel in his beast form, too, since it was easier and faster.

His nose caught something, and he stopped. Prey was nearby; he was sure of it. What he didn’t like was that there were other smells mixed with those of sweet prey. 

Others were after the same thing. His belly growled, and Toru wanted to growl with it, too. Others weren’t as fast or agile as him. Or hungry. He followed the scent, his paws leaving a trail in the thin snow, but not making a sound.

From the edge of a cliff, he looked down. A deer lay on one side, its neck torn, and a pack of wolves was pulling at its body from all sides. Toru didn’t hesitate as he dropped behind them without a sound. One of them, a big male, with a thick strip of silver hair on his head and back, down to his tail, stopped and sniffed the air.

They must have been too hungry and overwhelmed by the scent of the deer to sense him. Toru counted on surprise to drive them away, but he was not one to back down from a fight if need be. He growled, a deep, cavernous sound rising from his chest. The wolves perked up and turned toward him.

“I thought I smelled trouble,” the silverback wolf said with a snarl, showing his teeth.

Shifters. Toru couldn’t say he was surprised. It was their land, after all.

“And I smell dinner,” Toru replied.

“What is this beast?” one of the younger wolves squeaked. “Never seen one like it.”

All, except the big wolf, kept a distance. 

Toru showed his long fangs. This litter of puppies had nothing on him. The young wolves took a step back, and one couldn’t keep in a small whine. That was exactly what Toru wanted.

“Aren’t you a bit too far from home, kitty?” The silverback wolf walked toward him, showing no signs of fear.

“Kitty? Like a house cat? Varg, that’s nothing like --”

“Silence!” The wolf named Varg barked. His dark, merciless eyes turned toward Toru once more. “What’s a tiger shifter doing in these parts?”

“A tiger shifter? What’s that, a tiger?” the young wolf asked, but in a much more quiet voice. 

“So you know what I am. Good for you,” Toru said, standing on all paws and dropping his nose to the ground while his eyes never left Varg. “Now step aside. Or I’ll go through you.”

Varg’s eyes shone dangerously. “Just try it, kitty.”

Toru could feel his whiskers twitching. If they all tried to gang up on him, they could be a real problem. But he was too hungry to care. And there were things kitties could do that puppies couldn’t. He tensed and jumped over Varg. What the big wolf didn’t know was that he was no ordinary tiger.

In one swift move he grabbed the deer by its torn neck. The wolves began to snarl on different voices. Toru started swinging the dead animal and its hard hooves moving haphazardly managed to make enough room. That was all he needed; Toru tensed and using momentum, he threw the deer through the air, far from the pack, while all the wolves froze, surprised by that move.

There was no time to lose. Toru leaped over the wolves, breaking the enclosure, and, too late, they started running after him. 

“Don’t chase him,” the alpha male shouted, but the youngsters were trampling each other in a hurry, by what Toru could sense from all the noises they made. 

The deer had caught in a long branch leaning over a smooth stone cliff. Toru stopped short of falling over and grabbed it, praying inwardly that it wouldn’t slide into the dark abyss. Turning with the prey in his teeth, he began swinging it again.

The wolves tried to get closer this time, growling, and showing shiny teeth. But they stepped back when Toru hit them with the hooves of the animal over their muzzles. 

If he hadn’t been so hungry, playing with those puppies would have been fun. As things stood, Toru needed to make sure that they would soon tire of playing with him.

The deer swirled through the air, away from the pack. The wolves broke into a sprint before Toru this time. The tiger shifter leaped over them, leaving them behind in no time. 

“Stop chasing him, you fools,” Varg called from a distance. “That’s just what he wants!”

That one had his head screwed on straight, but it wasn’t like he could do anything. The strength of wolves was the pack. A tiger’s strength was his own; Toru didn’t need anyone to face a pack of hungry puppies. 

He reached the deer first and, grabbing it, he made for the river. The forest was dangerous, and the wolves would be more at home there than him, which was why Toru preferred to keep away from it. 

The pack of wolves was still on his tail, and, for now, at least, it looked like hunger and wounded pride were stronger than anything. He knew wolves were excellent swimmers, but that was one of many differences between them. 

Toru didn’t plan to swim.

“He’s heading straight for the river!” one of the wolves cried victoriously. 

Toru would have laughed if his mouth hadn’t been busy. They were just a bunch of mutts. Before reaching the riverside, Toru began rotating fast and this time, when he threw the deer, his dinner landed safely on the other side, at a precise point. Then, he began running, faster and faster. 

“After him! We’ll catch him in the river!”

Toru leaped. Angry snarls followed. He flew through the air, and then landed on his paws by the deer on the other side. “Later, idiots!” 

Some of the wolves jumped into the water, but the river was rash and strong at that joint, and no matter how great swimmers they were, they wouldn’t reach him soon. Toru walked away, without one look back. There would be distance between him and the pack, and he needed to make it bigger, no matter how loud his belly growled, and how sweet the promise of tender meat.

He broke into a fast stride, conscious of having to preserve some of his energy if he wanted to get somewhere fast and enjoy his meal.

A glade appeared in front of him, and Toru stopped, his muscles trembling with effort. It was all worth it; he sank his fangs into the prey, tearing chunks of meat and swallowing them without wasting time with chewing too much. He couldn’t recall ever being so hungry, but that was probably what he thought each time he went without food for days, which happened quite often since he had decided to follow that maddening scent.

“Didn’t your mommy teach you not to play with your food?”

Toru stiffened. He wasn’t even half satisfied. The merciless eyes he had seen before shone in the darkness of the trees rising tall around the glade. “Stay away, mutt. My food now.” He continued to eat, convinced that the big wolf wasn’t far enough out of his mind to attack him without his pack. There was only one distinct smell he sensed, which meant that Varg was alone. 

The wolf stepped into the clearing. “Stealing food is not nice. Have you no manners?”

Toru decided to ignore him. He had no time to lose. Eventually, the pack would cross the river and follow him again. By the time they would be there, Toru planned to leave nothing but bones to welcome them. 

The wolf circled him slowly. Toru could feel his coat rising on his back, and his heart began to pound, aware of danger. 

“Leave now, kitty, and I’ll forget about this,” Varg warned.

Toru let go of his dinner reluctantly. “And if I don’t?”

When the wolf pounced on his back, Toru barely had the time to push against the ground with all his paws. But Varg sank his teeth into Toru’s back, and sudden sharp pain made him growl. He began swinging his body, trying to get rid of the beast on his back, but those long blades tearing his skin were just going deeper. 

The situation was getting a bit too hairy for his taste. Toru used all his strength while trying to shake off the wolf, but he was a redoubtable adversary and it wasn’t easy to put him down. Toru tensed his back and then drove himself backwards into a tree trunk, making it shake with the force of impact. 

The wolf growled, in distress now, and Toru used all his muscles to smash him against the tree, again. The grip on his back lessened and Toru finally shook off the other beast who fell to the ground with a thump. The wound on his back began to pulse and Toru knew that he needed to be gone and fast. 

“Pray that we don’t meet again, tiger,” the wolf spat at his back, as Toru rushed out of the clearing.

Those were big words coming from the one who had lost. But Toru wasn’t sure the wolf hadn’t just played him, just to push him away from the prey and feast on it himself. Varg had seemed quite a smart wolf, not like the rest of the pack. His eyes shone with danger and intelligence, and Toru felt a small shiver coursing his spine. The smell of his own blood made him hurry. As strong as he was, losing too much of it meant that he would be put in serious danger. It took all his effort to keep his tiger form.

Varg was right about one thing. Toru didn’t want to meet him again, either. 

***

Varg shook off the crystals of snow caught in his coat. He howled, throwing his head back, to call his pack. The tiger had left enough for them to stave off their hunger for the night. It wasn’t like he couldn’t have enough human food if he wanted, but he had heard the distressed calls of his pack and, as always, he had answered.

It wasn’t easy being a shifter, even if they could walk among humans. Sometimes, humans needed shifters, as had happened during the war. But the benevolence which extended to Varg, a veteran who had done plenty for the kingdom of those with soft flesh and soft hearts, ran dry when it came to others of his people. 

That was why his pack had to hunt in those parts and depend on the scarce prey. Spring would come. Then, the food would be more, and the pack wouldn’t starve.

Varg sniffed the dead deer. He wouldn’t eat until the pack was there, and even then, he would just pretend to eat. The youngsters needed the strength, and Varg had a lot of friends in town who would offer him a roof over his head, food, and everything else he could wish for. 

He also had to teach the others a few things, like how they needed to be smarter than a cat, no matter how big and crafty. His snarl was a hidden smile. The tiger shifter had made him feel something he hadn’t in a while; a challenge. 

Varg licked his fangs, the taste of blood still fresh. Maybe he had bitten a bit too deeply.

The young tiger must have been hungry, too. That had been why Varg had allowed him to eat for a while before facing him. Youngsters needed a chance in the world. Or otherwise, there would never be a future.

***

There was smoke rising from the roofs in the distance. Toru had run all night, away from the pack of wolves and especially the silverback Varg. He didn’t like getting into fights, but he always did what he must to protect himself. There was no one to have his back, no pack to rely on, and that Toru knew well. 

He shifted into his human shape, exhausted from the run he had been on for the entire night, no longer capable of keeping his tiger form. Smoke and roofs meant houses, and houses meant humans. As much as he couldn’t rely on them completely, Toru had known them since forever, and some of them had been kind to him. With the last drops of energy, he pulled himself up and stumbled toward the human settlement.

***

An old man pushing a cart threw him a curious look. Toru shivered; with the loss of blood came the cold, too, and he couldn’t keep his teeth from clattering. He went straight at the man. “Healer,” he whispered through his clenched teeth.

The man steered clear from him and hurried, his cart stumbling on a rock on the road. Even so, he began moving faster and away from Toru. 

That was something he didn’t like about the humans he had met so far in these parts. They looked down at the ground, like the skies above weighed heavy on their shoulders. They didn’t smile much, and people like the innkeeper’s son were few and far between.

His wound throbbed. That damned wolf had gotten him good. Toru was sure he wouldn’t die from that, but being wounded meant he couldn’t hunt or do anything else that could help him eat or find a place to stay. 

“Is there a healer here?” he shouted.

A few people had started to move about, on their way to whatever they needed to do, like the man with the cart. They stared at him curiously, but none said a word.

Toru moved with difficulty. He was just so tired. He would just find a place where he could put his head. If he slept enough, his natural self-healing would kick in. A look around convinced him that there were quite a few homes that looked pretty worse for wear. 

“Healer, there,” one young woman said in a loud voice, and pointed at a modest house out of the way, with its roof slanted in front as if it was moments from collapsing. 

Another woman grabbed her arm and said something in a low, coarse voice. Toru didn’t spare them another glance and hurried toward the dilapidated dwelling. He knocked on the door, his impatience growing. There was so little strength left in him now. 

“Healer!” he called out.

The door opened, and Toru fell forward, his legs no longer capable of holding him. His eyes saw something like a pair of small tusks and a giant’s body as he fell to the ground. Was that the healer?

***

Duril stared at the young man collapsed at his feet. He looked outside for a moment, and the curious eyes of a few townsfolk looked back at him. With a shake of the head, he hurried to lift his guest. The young man had asked for a healer, and while Duril knew he would be the last in town to be recommended, he was happy to treat the wounded, no matter who they were.

The young man seemed to be gone from the world, but he was breathing. Duril noticed right away the gash on the upper part of his back and it looked like there had been some loss of blood. His patient appeared to be strong, tall and muscular, and a wound like that shouldn’t have been able to put him down so easily. There had to be something else.

Duril sighed. Using his good arm, he circled the patient’s waist and helped him lean against him. It looked like it was futile to depend on him whatsoever, so Duril just dragged him to the bed. There, he placed the patient on one side so that he could inspect the wound and examine his body for other signs of injury. 

The shirt on the patient’s back was soaked through but it didn’t look like it had been damaged by whatever had caused the gash. It could be that the patient had worn it lower on his back to protect it from getting stained, but that hadn’t worked so well. 

It was hard to take the patient out of his shirt, but Duril struggled and seeing how much experience he had doing things with one hand, it took him reasonably little time to remove the garment. 

“And this goes straight to washing.” That would have to come later, though, as there was a patient that needed his undivided attention.

Duril lit another candle and brought it closer so that he could inspect the wound properly. Then he noticed the patient’s back. The skin that stretched over beautiful muscles was adorned by black and golden stripes. His entire skin was tanned and had a nice golden shine, but the stripes were of a brighter tone.

Tattoos? His fingers touched the skin. It was too warm. Duril got to work. First, he washed the wound and applied a poultice that had worked many wonders in the past. But the fever was worrying him more. The patient was asleep, and he was in no state to drink one of Duril’s bitter remedies.

Duril felt the patient’s forehead, his large hand brushing against long golden strands soft like spun silk. He hadn’t gotten a good look at the young man, but he appeared attractive. Duril let his hand linger a little more on the high forehead and then he withdrew it. What was he thinking?

It had been so long since he had had someone under his roof. At least, some of the townspeople didn’t shy away from buying his potions. They were cheap, and that helped some with winning over customers. But there were other healers in town, and they had two hands, and that seemed to make a world of difference for those who thought of Duril’s missing forearm as a deformity. Healers who lost limbs in battle didn’t receive the same appreciation as active combatants. They weren’t veterans; they just hadn’t been careful enough.

Duril touched his incomplete arm and his mind wandered, for a moment. Now wasn’t the time to feel sorry for himself. He had been just one of the many who had suffered because of the long war. Others hadn’t come back at all. So, he was lucky.

It didn’t hurt most of the time, but Duril woke up sometimes, with a pain as shrill as it had been when he had lost it. There were remedies for many things, but not for that. It was something he lived with, and he didn’t complain.

He put a blanket over the patient and went to prepare a cold compress. For now, he would wait, and, in the meantime, he could wash the stained shirt. It appeared that his patient wore inadequate clothes for the cold outside. That shirt was one of the few things that stood between his skin and the biting frost. He would surely be unhappy if he lost it.

It didn’t matter that the patient looked like he didn’t have coins or anything of value on him. Duril wanted to make him well, anyway. As his hand covered in suds, he stole glances in the patient’s direction. 

He had broad shoulders and he was taller than most people Duril knew. The patient looked like he wasn’t from those parts. What could he be doing far from his own home?

Duril moved carefully around, making sure to remain silent, to allow the patient to sleep and regain his strength. He went outside to stretch the washed shirt close to the fire he had started at the break of dawn for mixing his potions. 

***

Toru groaned as he fought to open his eyes. What had happened? The slight pain in his upper back had him remembering everything - the silverback, the deer, the run through the forest. His eyes moved about the room as he lay there unmoving. Ah, he was at the healer’s house. 

Was that giant with tusks the healer? Toru moved one hand carefully to feel his wound, and it came back sticky. He sniffed. That was the healer; his hand smelled of herbs, and the bite on his back no longer hurt that badly. 

When he moved, Toru felt something falling from his forehead. A compress. He took it and placed it next to him as he sat on the edge of the hard, narrow bed. Whatever the healer had done, he had done well, because Toru felt much better, although thirsty and a bit hungry. 

A door opened and through it came the giant from before. 

“You’re awake.”

Toru examined his host. He was a big guy, but not human. Not entirely human, Toru decided as his eyes traveled over the giant, up and down. His tusks were reminiscent of an ogre, but otherwise, his face was human, and a pair of kind eyes, the color of chocolate, looked at him from beneath furrowed eyebrows. 

He wore coarse clothes, but his entire appearance was clean, and not like that of an ogre. His skin didn’t have that greenish tint, either, and the mop of brown hair on his head looked clean and cared for, too. 

Still, his eyes were drawn to the pair of tusks rising only a little above the bottom lip. 

The not-ogre touched the tusks in a self-conscious gesture. “I’m sorry about these. You have no reason to fear me.”

Toru snorted. “As if.”

The healer laughed, a pleasant, subdued laugh that made Toru smile, too. “I’m glad to see you in such high spirits. Are you thirsty?”

Toru nodded, and only then noticed that the healer lacked one forearm, the sleeve of his shirt folded in half. Moving a cup to fill it with water from a bucket seemed like a tedious task. What could have happened? Toru shivered. As much a brawler as he was, he wasn’t fond of physical pain. That must have hurt a lot.

“Here you go,” the healer said, and offered him the full cup.

Toru took it and gulped it in one go. “More.” He handed back the cup, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

The healer offered him another smile and went back to fill the cup again. Toru looked at him with growing interest. 

“Can I see if you’re still running a fever?” the healer asked after he returned with the water.

Toru nodded. The healer felt his forehead with one large hand. “You’re very lucky, young man. And very healthy.”

“What’s your name?” Toru asked.

“I’m Duril,” the healer replied. 

“Are you this town’s healer?” Toru just wanted to make sure.

A sigh was the answer. “I’m a healer of many. There are better ones. Much better.”

Toru moved his shoulders and neck. “You’re good. It almost doesn’t hurt at all.”

“That’s because you have a fantastic healing rate. I thought I would have to tend to you at least a few days. Can you show me your back?”

Toru turned. “I’m Toru.”

“Toru. That’s a beautiful name. Not common around here.”

Duril touched his back, and it was so gentle that Toru barely kept in a purr. Some humans had that gift, to make each touch a caress. No wonder Duril was a healer; his touch was featherlike and warm. Only that he was no human.

“What are you?” he asked.

Duril stopped for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not a human. Not completely.”

Duril sighed. “My mother was. But being, as she was, a practitioner of the oldest profession in the world, a mistake was bound to happen.”

Toru could sense longing and regret in Duril’s words. He turned his head back and stared at Duril from below. “You’re not a mistake.”

Duril blinked a few times, as if there was suddenly something in his eyes. “I washed your shirt. I’m not sure it’s completely dry, but I managed to take the stains out.”

“Thank you,” Toru said. “I don’t have another shirt.”

“I figured. You’re not from around here, Toru, are you? Your clothes are so thin.”

“No. I’ve been traveling for months.” Toru wasn’t sure how much of himself he should reveal. Duril was a kind person, even if he wasn’t a human, and he didn’t want to scare him. As big as he was, he was as gentle as a lamb, and the last thing Toru wanted was to make him shake in fear. 

Ah, of course, Duril was within his rights to ask him questions. He must be interested in finding out how Toru would pay for the treatment and everything. 

“I don’t have any coin,” he admitted.

Duril patted his shoulder and moved away. “You don’t worry about that now. First, you need to get well. Are you hungry?”

Toru turned and looked Duril up and down again, making the healer look down as if he was embarrassed. “I said I don’t have any coin, not that I won’t pay.”

Duril raised his eyes and looked at him. “It’s all right. You don’t have to.”

Toru stood up and smirked. Gentle guys like Duril were his favorites. He moved slowly, and Duril clearly became aware of him even more. He stopped near him, and as tall as Duril was, Toru matched him. He sniffed his ear and brushed it with his nose.

“What are you doing?” Duril moved away, looking frightened.

Toru stopped. Could it be that Duril wasn’t interested? Ah, maybe he needed to ask first. “Which one are you? This?” He put two fingers together and pointed up. “Or this?” He made a circle with his thumb and index finger. 

The look on Duril’s face was priceless.

TBC

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