Something Extra - Hungry Heart - Ch. 4 (Patreon)

Chapter One  / Chapter Two  / Chapter Three 

Chapter Four – I’m Not Your Enemy

The birds circled the trees, but none began to attack Toru. They formed a belt of feathers flying round and round, and it was hard to keep eyes on any individual in that flock. It seemed to move like a single being. Toru kept his balance, but his eyes were darting to and fro. Where would they strike? Could he defend himself?

Suddenly, the flock, silent save for the flapping of their wings, moved lower and one, then two, then three, flew to the trunk and hit it with their beaks. The tree shook under Toru, and the flock’s sinister plan appeared clear. 

He took one look down. The birds were moving fast now, making a web of dark bodies between him and the ground. He would survive the fall, but once down, what would happen? Picking the tallest trees he had seen no longer seemed a smart idea.

“Toru, shift and jump!” Varg shouted at him from below.

Yeah, right. Like he had a death wish or something. He watched the wolfshifter turn into his human form and open his arms wide. Now that was a glorious plan that would end with Toru splashing against the ground like a rotten vegetable. 

He began moving down, his sharp claws giving him the balance he needed, but the birds began hitting his paws with their beaks. One didn’t hurt, two, he could feel. His claws dug deeper into the bark, but the pain was growing. With it, his heartbeat became frantic. Was this the end for him? And why? Because of some dumb birds? Toru had never thought of his life ahead very often, but meeting such a humiliating end would be too much.

“Toru, listen to me!” Varg was growing agitated and now waving his arms. His voice was harsh.

Could it be that the wolfshifter had wanted him there so that he could finish him off? Toru balanced his weight, his head downward, his tail still wrapped around the trunk. He couldn’t make a run for it. Descending such a tall tree had to be done carefully, but those black birds from hell wouldn’t let him. It was either that or --

“Now, Toru!” That sounded like half a roar and half a plea.

If he reached the ground, even by jumping from a safe distance, he would be hurt, and there was no way to tell if he could fend off the entire flock. A loud roar rose from his throat and the birds broke their circle, but only for a few moments. They returned with a vengeance, and this time, one aimed for one of Toru’s eyes. He moved his head out of harm’s way just in the nick of time. Next time, he might not be that lucky.

“Toru, set that foolish tiger pride aside and jump!” Varg shouted again.

Ah, damn it. If he did that, he would be indebted to the mutt king forever and never hear the end of it. Also, if Varg had brought him here to kill him, there was no point in worrying about being teased and whatnot.

Toru jumped and the birds followed him. A few managed to nick his tender flesh as he shifted. Ah, well, it had been fun while it had lasted. He squeezed his eyes shut and braced for the pain.

His fall was broken by solid arms, and in an instant, both he and Varg were tumbling over. Did the mutt save him? Oh, great. Now he would really never hear the end of it.

***

Varg’s heart leapt for joy when the young man landed in his arms. There was a reason he wasn’t crazy about cats; they were so damned annoying with their constant lack of trust in others. That made them unreliable, too, but he couldn’t hold that against Toru.

What on earth was happening with that attack, though? The guild master had sent him to clear off the forest on the hill, telling him it would be an easy task. That looked nothing like it. The dark devils rushed for them, and Varg used his body to protect Toru. The hard leather and metal of his armor were enough to make their attack useless. Without a word, he hiked Toru in his arms and began running. He knew the surroundings, every nook and cranny, and the only thing he needed to do now was to get them both to safety.

The small cave under the hill he had known for some time would have to do for now. He rushed inside, dropped Toru to the ground and used a large boulder to secure the entrance save for a sliver of light. 

“Are you trying to kill me, mutt?” 

Of course. To expect gratitude would have been too much. And Toru was in his rights to be suspicious this time since it looked like Varg had lured him into a trap. The only thing he had to say in his defense was that the trap had ensnared him, as well.

He looked at the tigershifter. He was nursing one arm close to his body, and his shirt was ruined. There was a small tremor shaking his body. Also, his golden eyes were shooting darts and Varg couldn’t entirely blame him. Still, he was irritated, mostly at how the guild master had sent him on such a dangerous errand without warning him beforehand. Now, there was no way of telling what those birds would do to the town. By how organized and vicious they had just proven to be, they could be considered a severe danger to the townsfolk. Those black rocs were like nothing Varg had seen before. 

“I just saved your hide,” he replied in a gruff voice.

“Yeah, that makes me wonder. I mean, you could’ve just stayed there and enjoyed the show.” The tigershifter’s words were confident, but his voice was not. Varg wouldn’t be so heartless as to point out how frightened Toru was.

But things had to be said like they were. In an instant, Varg was over Toru, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, and staring into his eyes. “Trust me, kitty,” he said in a low voice, “if I wanted to kill you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

From up close, the tigershifter was a pretty thing, with his feline eyes, and soft inviting lips, now shaking slightly. Again, it would probably make him hiss and turn into a porcupine if he heard himself being called that, but Varg didn’t plan on letting his thoughts be known. They were a breath away, and if only he angled his head, he could –

He pushed Toru away and stood up. “I face my enemies fair and square. Always. And I’m not your enemy.”

“So, what’s wrong with those magpies?” Toru asked after a short silence.

“They’re black rocs, that’s what they are. The guild master told me it was a job for a scarecrow.”

“Geez, thanks. Do I look like a scarecrow to you?”

At least, his good spirits were returning and that was a good thing.

Varg risked a look in Toru’s direction. His golden skin showed through the ripped shirt. He was a strong, valiant tiger, even if scared out of his wits just now, and his human shape was a wondrous thing. Varg could hardly recall the last time the sight of a bit of bare skin could make him experience such strong sensations, all of a sudden. “Nothing like a scarecrow,” he said curtly.

Toru got on his feet and walked toward the rock barring the entrance with hesitating steps. He jumped up and down, as he tried to peek outside. To Varg, that also looked like a bit of desperation. Unnerved by all that jumping about, Varg grabbed Toru in his arms from behind and hiked him up. “Take a good look already, and calm down,” he ordered.

Just like a kitten not fond of brusque moves, Toru tried to get away, but Varg enjoyed the game they played this time around. 

“Put me down, mutt,” he hissed.

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll bite you.”

Varg let out a roar of laughter but put Toru down. The tigershifter turned to face him, and Varg pushed him until his back was against the rock. This wasn’t the time to explore what about that cute mischievous face made his heart leap, but Varg liked to act on whatever he felt, damned be the consequences. Toru stared defiantly into his eyes, and Varg leaned in.

The golden eyes thinned as they observed him. Varg smirked and closed in the distance.

“What the hell --”

Varg kissed Toru hard, only to be pushed back with the strength he expected. He laughed as he jumped a few steps back. Yes, it felt good to press his lips against that naughty mouth. But kitties had to be won over, and now really wasn’t a good time to play.

Toru wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You kissed me! You … mutt!”

The trembling and hesitation were gone.

Varg laughed harder.

“Stop laughing,” Toru warned him. “I’ll claw you and skin you alive!”

Let him just try it, Varg thought. He stared at Toru and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d say you stuck out your tongue the moment I put my mouth on you.”

It was pretty dark, but Varg saw enough to know what was going on. Toru was fuming; for someone who was overt in his attempts to charm others – as Varg had noticed before – he surely made a lot of fuss over a little kiss. 

“Why did you kiss me?” Toru demanded.

“Why not?”

“Why do you answer with another question?” Toru moaned, obviously more and more frustrated.

“Do you want an answer? You needed to calm down. It was that or biting your ears.”

Toru looked away, and Varg smiled in satisfaction. Maybe the tigershifter wasn’t big on having his ears bitten, but he had surely enjoyed the kiss. Of course, he wouldn’t admit it for the world, but that was a worry for another time. Now, they had bigger issues on their hands. 

“So? Are you ready to listen now?”

Toru crossed his arms over his chest. “Listen to what? How you plan on feeding me to those monsters?”

Varg wanted to groan in frustration, but he didn’t want to let the kitten think he could irk him so quickly. “I have no such plans. Something’s very wrong here, and we need to think about how we can get away from this alive.”

“I was trying to do just that,” Toru said diffidently. “See if they’re still out there.”

“They are. This is no work of birds. These black rocs haven’t been here long. It must be that they were sent to Whitekeep.”

“They’re just stupid birds,” Toru replied. 

Varg shook his head. “Like you, I thought the townsfolk were talking about some overgrown magpies. But this is something else.”

He stood close to the rock and listened. Toru came right behind him, and, for a moment, Varg felt his entire body reacting by becoming tense and then warm. He slowly turned, wanting to tease the other.

In a moment, Toru was away from him. “I don’t want your knot or anything,” he mumbled.

The impudent reference made him frown for a second, but then the irritation gave way to something else. It looked like he was easy to read, after all. Varg shook his head in mirth. “My knot? You have quite the vivid imagination, kitten. That would be the day when I paired with the likes of you.” Those words were far from everything his body felt with the tigershifter so near, but it served no one to let such instincts lead when all they needed now was to think clearly. Just the thought of having the beautiful tigershifter writhe and purr under him made his throat dry. Toru would do better to stop talking about knotting and whatnot. 

“The likes of me?” Toru sputtered. “Like I would let you touch me, to begin with.”

Varg watched his companion, his eyes at half-mast. “Oh, yes, you would.”

“In your stupid mutt dreams,” Toru replied and turned, showing Varg his back like a miffed child.

Varg shook his head. “Let’s talk about how much you want to be dominated by me another time.”

“Like never,” Toru said with a snort.

“We have to get out of here and warn the others. These birds are dangerous.”

There was one thing birds like that didn’t like, and it was fire. Varg began to scout the ground for some rocks he could use, and dry grass. Since the small cave was tucked under the hill, there had to be things like that in there.

“What are you looking for?” Toru asked.

“Rocks and dry grass, to make fire.”

“I’ll find them. I bet I can see a lot better than you.”

Ah, the little kitten wanted to make it clear that he was in no position to be told by others what to do. He wanted to prove his masculinity, too, and Varg liked it. Everywhere he went, shifters and humans alike bent to his will and authority. He knew that it was hard-earned, and he deserved the respect, but that meant that no one raised his eyes to him and offered him a true challenge.

This tigershifter had no qualms about that, and it felt strangely nice for a change.

Toru hurried to him with two rocks of similar size. Varg took them without a word and began hitting them to get a spark. There were many things he knew, things other shapeshifters didn’t bother to learn, but Varg wanted to make the best of his nature as a shifter. The fact that he could turn to human or wolf as he desired meant that he was adaptable, stronger than the rest, and he could take from both worlds everything he could ever be. 

“Here’s some grass.”

Varg crouched and began doing his thing. Toru crouched, too, and examined him with unhidden curiosity. If there was one thing the tigershifter wasn’t, that had to be shy. “I’ll improvise a torch and we’ll get out. Stay close to me and try to keep up. If what I think of these birds is true, they won’t follow us into the town.”

At least, not yet. Varg didn’t add that last bit of intuition; there was no point in frightening the young shifter. If someone had sent the black rocs there, they must have had a plan. A strike was imminent, and the fact that some of the birds had gone rogue and stolen from the town only showed that they weren’t completely tamed. 

He stopped for a moment. There was always a war raging on somewhere. The ones Varg had fought had been carried with steel and fire; now the enemy was trying a new strategy, and it made him wonder. Who was this attacker? 

“Hey, old man.” Toru snapped his fingers in front of his eyes. “Got sleepy or something?”

“Take your hand out of my face if you don’t want me to bite it,” Varg warned.

“I think you want to lick it, but whatever,” Toru retorted.

“Lick your hand? Why would I do that?”

“That’s all you mutts think about, how to lick everything you see.”

Varg bit back a smile. “You’re saying I want to lick you all over?”

“Like I’d let you,” Toru replied, but there was a small quiver in his voice as he said the words that wasn’t lost on Varg.

They had to get out of their self-imposed prison and warn the guild master of the dangers ahead. Playing with kitties had to wait. Varg stood up and took a small torch from one of the pouches he carried around his belt. It would have to do.

“Stay close to me, as I told you,” he ordered Toru.

What a miracle. The tigershifter hurried to his side and grabbed his arm as he lit the torch. Varg only hoped that brandishing it at those disgusting birds would do the trick.

***

Toru had to admit that he was a little scared, now that he had had the time to think of the weird attack of those birds. He had never seen a flock so organized and aggressive. Also, he had never heard of rocs flying in such a huge flock. The wolfshifter was right about one thing. Something was very wrong with the way those birds acted.

Also, that wasn’t the only thing wrong. To think that the damned mutt had dared to kiss him! And that it had felt good! Why did it feel so good? Toru didn’t like Varg one bit. All right, so he was built like a mountain and had good facial features, but nothing could beat that annoying personality! If Varg thought he could order him around, he needed to think again.

And then, there were those pesky birds! Toru didn’t want to admit that he was afraid of them, but he kept close to Varg, while baring his teeth in an effort to keep them at bay and help the little torch the wolfshifter kept swinging to and fro, as he carved a way for the two of them through the flock that flew over their heads.

What a shameful thing! Toru ground his teeth hard. One, he was made a fool by a bunch of birds. If they hadn’t been that many, he could have taken them apart and enjoyed eating their guts. Although he didn’t like guts that much, but anyway. Two, he had been kissed by a mutt who had the charm of a mud brick. Toru was supposed to tease and make Varg lose his head. So why were his cheeks on fire just thinking of that kiss?

He hissed at some birds getting too close. The tiger in him itched for some action. Fear wasn’t a good sensation for someone like him. He either acted or ran. Now he had to depend on that insufferable mutt, but hopefully not for long.

***

Duril was lost in thought as the townsfolk were milling about. So far, he had sold four potions, which was abysmal, even for someone like him, usually ignored by those around. Good thing he didn’t have to worry about food for a week or even more. Toru had entered his life like a hurricane, and Duril wasn’t sure what was going on. Was it all right to let such a gorgeous man sleep under his roof? In the same bed? Only the thought made him blush to the whites of his eyes. But it wasn’t like him to turn away someone in need.

He had to get his head straight. Toru was just someone passing through. Maybe he liked to tease everyone, and that was just who he was. A man as beautiful as him was used to the attention. He burned hot, and Duril feared he was a bit too close and there was no easy cure for getting burned by such fire. 

The events of the night before had conquered all his thoughts. To have someone like that, close to him, was beyond dreamy. But it was also dangerous, Duril chided himself. Who was he to believe that Toru would really want him? He was nothing but a deformed --

“I’d like two potions for curing cold, and one for stomachaches.”

The customer’s voice interrupted his train of thought. Duril smiled at Rory. “Who’s ill?” he asked, as he picked the potions carefully to hand them over to his only truly faithful buyer. 

“Aunt Rose. I plan on visiting her today. Just got word that she’s down with a nasty cold, and her stomach bothers her, too.”

“It happens in old age,” Duril offered. Then he remembered that he wanted to ask Rory about Toru and his adventures from the other day. “Rory, I hope you don’t mind my asking, but how did you come to know Toru?”

Rory’s face lit up with a smile. “He came to the guild to look for work. Then, unfortunately, a fight broke out. Some patrons had a little bit too much to drink. He helped me put the place back together. I couldn’t have done it without him.”

Oh, so it wasn’t just Toru who preferred to lie. Duril pondered for a while. “I was surprised when he came back with so much food. Please, let me pay you for some of it, at least.” 

He reached for his purse, but Rory placed one hand on his. “Duril, no. There was a lot to do, and he worked hard. Here, for the potions I’ll take to my aunt.”

Duril wanted to protest some more, but he knew that winning against Rory when he put his mind to it was an impossible thing. “Could you, please, tell me, if the others hold a grudge against him?” he asked kindly.

Rory made a surprised face, but then he smiled again. “I think he made quite the impression. But in Whitekeep, whoever is the strongest will be the more revered, as you know. Oh, sorry, Duril, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

It was Duril’s turn to assuage Rory’s worries. “No, no. It’s all right. I just didn’t know what to make of all the things he brought. The money, too. I was afraid he might have stolen it.”

“How come Toru stays with you?” Rory asked, politely guiding the conversation away from the topic of his helping Toru and, indirectly, Duril.

Rory was like that, and Duril was thankful for his kind soul. Wise beyond his years, that boy was. In a world like theirs, being so thoughtful of others and soft-hearted could be seen as weaknesses. But Rory had made many friends with his good nature, and while kind, he wasn’t some fool. The inn he inherited from his parents was thriving, and that could be credited to his famous haggling skills. Merchants often cussed him for his agile tongue and tight purse.

“Toru, um,” he began, “he just happened to knock on my door.” Duril pondered for a moment. As much as he trusted Rory, he didn’t know what Toru felt about having details about himself disclosed to strangers. Therefore, he opted out of telling Rory about Toru’s wound and his fast recovery. “He didn’t have a place to stay or coin, so I told him he could sleep under my roof.”

Of course, there were some other details Duril didn’t plan to talk about. If anyone heard of him having such a handsome man in his bed ... But what was he thinking? They had only slept in the same bed, and nothing had happened. It didn’t matter that Toru’s arm had rested against his thigh all night. It was nothing.

“Why are you blushing?” Rory grinned at him. He leaned in and his voice dropped. “Did you two --”

“Rory, what are you thinking? Pull your mind out of the gutter, young man,” Duril protested.

“I didn’t say anything.” Rory’s smile broadened. “And I wouldn’t gossip, you know that.”

He did know. Still, there was nothing to gossip about to begin with. “Nothing happened,” he said abruptly. “I mean, who in their right mind would even consider someone like me --”

Rory opened his mouth to say something, but a sudden ruckus at the end of the street made them both turn their attention there. A group of guards was shouting at the merchants displaying their wares to pack up and go home.

“What is going on?” Rory asked the same question on everyone’s lips.

The guards didn’t take kindly to protests, so they began to push around the people who were too slow in obeying. Duril hurried to put all of his potions back into his sack. Rory hurried to help him.

“Back to your homes!” one of the guards bellowed. “Bar the doors and windows and don’t go out!”

Rory blanched, but his hands moved faster. He offered Duril his hand, which might have looked strange to any onlooker. 

“You two, move already,” the guard shouted at them. 

“Go to the inn, Rory. I’ll be fine,” Duril said.

For a moment, it looked like the young innkeeper wanted to protest, but Duril was thankful when he nodded curtly and began walking away. He hurried, too, now anxious to reach the relative safety of his home. Were they under attack? It had been a while since anything like that had happened. 

He observed with frightened eyes the townsfolk rushing toward their homes, pushed from the back by the guards. He had no business getting into an altercation with them, so he sped up. His house was away from the town center, so he soon began moving against the flow of people.

“Please, excuse me, sorry,” he mumbled as he tried to find a way through the sea of bodies.

All he got in return were curses and threats. Nothing he wasn’t used to. Duril looked down, hoping that his giant body would turn smaller by a miracle.

“Monster,” someone hissed at his right. “I bet it’s your kind laying waste again.”

There was no point in arguing that he was half human. Once in a while, Duril had wondered how much of him was human, and how much orc. Except for a few physical traits, he saw no resemblance between himself and the one who must have sired him by sleeping with his mother. But humans could be beasts, too, even if not in appearance, but in their behavior. With his head pushed into his shoulders, he hurried up.

One man walked into him, making him deviate from his course. Duril didn’t stop. All he wanted was to reach home. He stopped only when a wall of bodies prevented him from moving forward. He tried to go around them, but the townsfolk moved with him.

“It’s because monsters like you are allowed here,” one of them said.

That was bad. That was very bad. Duril didn’t even dare to look up and see who was talking. For better or worse, he had to make a living in Whitekeep. If he knew each face of those who hated him, soon he couldn’t bear staying there, and he had nowhere else to go.

“Move, fools,” the voice of a guard interrupted the little spat, and the wall of bodies in front of Duril disintegrated.

The guard pushed him unceremoniously, making him stumble and drop the sack with potions. By the sound of breaking glass, his work of the last few days had just been destroyed.

“Get your garbage and move already.” The guard kicked him while he tried to grab his sack.

Duril fought back a tear. Maybe somewhere inside him, there was a beast, but with one good arm, not even that could fight against the cruelty of those around him.

“He’s just a beast. You shouldn’t take his side.”

He could tell the guard must have taken that advice to heart. Soon, he was surrounded.

***

Toru had left Varg’s side once the wolfshifter told him he would let the guild master know of an impending attack. He had gone home first, only to find it empty, and now he was walking the streets, looking for Duril. By how the guards had flocked out in the street, he could only assume that Varg’s warning hadn’t fallen on deaf ears.

He couldn’t figure out what made the wolfshifter think that the rocs will attack the town, but maybe he knew better, being from around there. It was annoying that he was caught in this, but, for the moment, he needed to focus on surviving. How they would fight those horrible winged beasts was beyond him, but he was curious to see what the townspeople planned. 

He noticed a group of men shouting and gathered around something or someone. Their angry shouts made his ears perk up. 

“Half orc! Monster! Beast!”

Toru frowned and hurried toward the source of the shouts. He pushed the men away and stopped when he almost stumbled on Duril who sat crouched on the ground with a sack smelling overwhelmingly of herbs held tight to his chest. He hurried to help him to his feet and turned to face the crowd. A few guards were not far away, but they didn’t seem to care. 

He hooked one arm over Duril’s shoulders and stared at the townsfolk who suddenly seemed to have lost the courage to bully the half orc. When one dared to look back, Toru showed his teeth and released a loud roar. The bullies froze and then broke into a run, yelping in fear.

“Are you all right?” Toru asked, but his eyes never left the street. His eyes continued to scan their surroundings for dangers. Those townsfolk weren’t that far from a flock of black birds. They were just as cowardly and vicious.

“I’m fine. Thank you,” Duril said in a soft voice.

Toru held him close and dragged him along. Varg had told him that the townspeople had better stay indoors. He needed to take Duril home and then he would see what he could do to get his revenge upon those nasty black rocs. Hopefully, Varg didn’t think that he would cower and hide, like the rest.

Now, his priority was to see Duril back home safe. Without a word, he began walking fast.

***

Duril was relieved when they got home. Also, a bit dizzy from being held so closely by his handsome guest. A look at Toru and worries soared again. “What happened to your shirt? And those wounds --”

“It’s nothing,” Toru said curtly.

“They’re not nothing. Let me check.” Duril placed the ruined sack with potions on the table and hurried by Toru’s side. “You’re scratched all over! Where have you been?”

“Earning my keep.”

It looked like someone got Toru’s tongue. Duril shook his head and proceeded to make a poultice from the herbs he still had. 

Warm hands rested on his shoulders. “I’ll heal.”

“If you let me treat you, of course you will,” Duril replied.

He was startled by the soft kiss placed on the crown of his head. “I know, but there’s no time.”

Duril wanted to ask why, but a loud knock on the door interrupted him.

TBC

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