Hungry Heart - Book #3 - Ch. 1 (Patreon)

Author's note: Just the right time for starting a new book in this universe! Ah, nothing like the spirit of a new adventure! Are you ready for more of Toru, Duril, and Varg? And don't you forget about Claw!

I want to thank Dave for making this saga possible, and also to you all for reading and supporting the story! You guys are awesome! And now, toward a new adventure!

Chapter One – Welcome to The Quiet Woods

The nights became balmier than ever as they approached The Quiet Woods, but Toru could tell Varg sniffed something in the air that changed while the desert surrendered to make room for the luscious vegetation announcing that they were getting near their destination. While he decided to heed Duril’s advice and keep to himself just how much he wanted Claw to join them after they left The Quiet Woods, it didn’t mean that he didn’t use all the time left to convince the bearshifter that their tightknit group was all he needed, and maybe even a little something on top of that.

Right now, though, as the full moon rose over the crowns of trees they could spot in the distance, he chose to join Varg for one of his sleepless nights. The wolf inside his friend had a special place in his heart for the celestial body above, and Toru sat quietly by Varg’s side.

Varg’s body was covered by his wolf coat, and he looked majestic as he stood there, in the moonlight. The night’s air left small droplets of early dew in the wolf’s hair, and now and then, Varg twitched his body briefly to shake them from his coat, while preserving the heat inside.

“We’re close,” Toru said, breaking the silence. “To Claw’s home.”

“Indeed,” Varg continued. “Ready for a run, kitty?” he asked and leaped from the small hill on which he had been perched until now.

It wasn’t really a question, but an invitation. Toru shifted and followed, enjoying the sound of their ragged breathing in the night air, as they rushed through the tall grass with one destination in mind as it seemed.

They gave playful chase until they reached the first line of tall trees, the darkness of their bark and leaves broken only by the silver lining cast on their crowns by the gentle moon above. As Claw had explained to them, the transition between the desert and The Quiet Woods stretched over quite a bit of land, so they weren’t really there yet.

Unlike he and Varg who felt restless under a full moon, Duril and Claw were at their improvised camp, sleeping soundly. There were questions on his mind, and Toru suspected that Varg had a few of his own.

“I got you,” he shouted victoriously when he stopped a breath away from his companion.

“It was a race, kitty. You were supposed to be faster than me not catch me,” the wolfshifter taunted him.

Toru shifted back into his human and sat on the grass, all the while taking in the tall trees in front of them. “Do you think The Quiet Woods are as beautiful as Claw says?” he blurted out.

Varg chuckled. Unlike him, he preferred his wolf’s coat tonight. “It sounds to me like you’re hoping for sour grapes.”

“Sour grapes? Eww, no way I’d eat any kind of grapes, let alone the sour kind.”

Varg laughed wholeheartedly this time. “What I mean is that maybe you wish, only a little, that Claw’s woods are not as enticing as they used to be.”

“It would mean that he could join us without halfhearted feelings,” Toru replied promptly. “I mean, I don’t want him to have any regrets and such.”

“Then you’re sure he will join us.” Varg paused for a moment and breathed in the sweet, rich scent of the forest. “Is that it?”

“I’m more and more convinced. And I think he likes you too much to abandon us,” Toru said. “I mean, not abandon,” he tried to take it back, “but you know, leave us… without him.”

“You don’t have to worry so much, kitty,” Varg offered and scooted closer to bump into Toru’s shoulder playfully. “Claw is an adventurer at heart. He speaks fondly of the place of his birth because he’s also a creature of the earth beneath our feet. But just as we all enjoy a little reprieve from the madness we’re fighting against every once in a while, he longs for this place where he can dig his toes in and know it to be home.”

“You mean that he enjoys adventure way too much to decide to stay here and live like an old man?”

Varg burst into laughter. “I believe that Claw is as far as he could be from an old man. My hips surely know that,” he added with a tinge of mirth.

Toru snickered and sank both hands into Varg’s rich coat. He let their noses touch and nuzzled his against the wolfshifter’s damp one. “That was quite the surprise. I didn’t know you’d let anyone--”

Varg growled. “What do you mean by anyone, kitty?”

“All right, not anyone, but you know, that you… you know.” Toru didn’t want to say it for the simple reason that he didn’t want Varg to feel uncomfortable.

“I suppose I do,” Varg replied, clearly amused. “I know why I’m not sleeping tonight, but why aren’t you?” he asked, changing tack and steering the conversation into the direction Toru had hoped for ever since he had followed the wolfshifter into the night.

“My head is just too full of thoughts,” Toru admitted. “It’s not just Claw and our adventures. I feel… my heart is too full at times.”

“Is it your head or your heart, kitty? You should pick one.”

Toru sighed deeply and his shoulders slumped. “Do you really believe it, Varg? Do you think that I’m destined to do these things, whatever they are?”

“I do.” The response delivered to him was short and to the point. There didn’t appear to be any shred of doubt in Varg’s heart.

“But why me? I’m just a tigershifter like any other tigershifter.”

Varg nuzzled his cheek gently with that wet nose, making Toru sneeze. They both laughed.

“You’re not like any other tigershifter, Toru,” Varg pointed out. “Elidias confirmed it, if there was any need to do so. And I cannot believe that you would see yourself as anything less than the king of the world.”

Toru looked down, feeling embarrassed by so much praise and trust. “I don’t want to be the king of the world, to wear a crown and listen to people complain about their crops.”

To his surprise, Varg shifted into his human and took him by the shoulders. His body was warm and pleasant as the dawn was getting closer and the temperature dropped. “You’re not that kind of king. You’re the kind that saves the world, not one made to sit on a throne. Yet, I speak nothing but the truth I believe in my heart when I say that this world will raise you statues and invite you to sit at the helm, once you defeat this evil you have been fighting for so long.”

“We have been fighting,” Toru hurried to correct him. “I’d probably be nothing but bones scattered over the naked ground somewhere if it weren’t for you and Duril. And Claw, now.”

Varg squeezed him hard in his embrace. “Your heart is so big, Toru. I assure you; you have all our love, and Claw’s, too, even if he still yearns for the place of his birth. We’re almost there. But I’m telling you, give the bear several days of salmon and trout easily caught, and plenty of honey to fill his belly, and by the end of a single week, he’ll be begging us not to leave without him, out of his mind with boredom already.”

Toru grinned as he imagined the mighty bear on his knees pleading to be taken along. That satisfied him greatly, and his heart filled with happiness. With that in mind, his eyelids began to droop and he yawned loudly.

Varg ruffled his hair and kissed him on the forehead. “So like a kitty to want to go to sleep just as the day is breaking, and everyone else is up and about. Let’s go back to our friends so that you can catch a bit of shuteye before we start for The Quiet Woods, a place like no other on the face of our world, if we’re to take Claw’s words at face value.”

“We should. He wouldn’t lie to us,” Toru said simply.

“It’s true,” Varg admitted. “Just like his heart.”

***

“And did I tell you about these little birdhouses that Shearah made from fallen branches all year long?” Claw continued to tell them about The Quiet Woods as the majestic trees rose in the distance.

Shearah was, Duril remembered as the bearshifter had told them, the name of the witch that lived there. She had to be at least as old as Agatha, and it made him wonder why some places had witches like that. Thinking about it, it couldn’t have been a mere coincidence that Agatha had lived in Whitekeep all her life. When that place had turned to dust, they had taken her, along with the survivors of Whitekeep, to Fairside, and that would be her seat of knowledge and power for a long time if nothing happened to hurt that place.

Duril strove to chase that frightening thought from his mind. Nothing would happen to Fairside, or Agatha, Rory, Zul, Onyx, and the surviving members of Varg’s pack. Together, they had chased away the evil that had lain there, under the crust of the earth, waiting to pull good people under. Whatever that entity was, it appeared to prefer the depths of the soil, hiding where the sun never shone. That was all they knew, along with whatever bits of legend he had managed to gather from Elidias’s library and the old man’s words of wisdom.

“It appears that I have at least succeeded in boring our healer out of his wits,” Claw remarked and laughed.

“You haven’t,” Duril protested right away. “I was wondering what makes witches pick certain places over others. Like how Agatha chose Whitekeep, and Shearah chose The Quiet Woods.”

“Maybe they just like the quiet,” Toru offered his take on things, very matter-of-factly.

Varg laughed, joined by Claw shortly thereafter.

The young tiger pouted right away. “It must be true,” he defended his point of view.

“It must, indeed,” Duril hurried to his aid, “because witches need to go about making their potions in great silence, as I can attest.”

“Are you a witch, too?” Claw teased him.

“No, but potion making is not the kind of business one conducts on a busy street corner.” Duril wasn’t bothered in the least by being called a witch, and, on the contrary, he felt a little proud. Not that he had magic of any kind, but the most recent events in his life had given him plenty to think about how his abilities were more than he knew. Like how the gift given to him by Lady Amethyst allowed him to speak to the trees or even wood that had been cut down long ago. That was a bit of magic, right there.

“It seems to me that our healer is letting himself fall prey to a little melancholy these days,” Claw teased him playfully again.

Duril shook his head. Toru was now chasing Varg around, so he was Claw’s only companion for the moment and the sole audience for his stories of The Quiet Woods.

“I wouldn’t call it melancholy,” he replied and smiled. “Times of pleasant rest like we have now just allow me a little bit more time to spend with my own thoughts. Of course, that doesn’t mean that I should daydream while you’re talking to me.”

Claw patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. You just tell me about what’s on your mind if it’s something you can share.”

“I can, and with much gladness,” Duril said. “We’ve been chasing this evil around or so it seems. Whitekeep fell, and we turned Vilemoor into Fairside once more. The house of merchants in Shroudharbor is no more, and it felt like the evil was banished from that place, as well.”

“Yes, nothing but victory after victory have you and your friends left in your wake,” Claw confirmed.

“And your wake. Let’s not forget how much you fought, too, and how you came to us and helped us even though your fate or heart didn’t command you to do it.”

“The best choice I’ve ever made in my life, sweet Duril,” Claw said.

Duril felt his cheeks getting a bit warm from that casually thrown compliment. Claw was good at that, he had noticed. He was stronger than they were, but there was a gentle part of him, and a worldly one that Duril believed would come in handy for all of them if they were to travel together.

“Yet, these are all good things. So, what is the one thing that won’t allow your mind to rest and your heart to enjoy simply looking at those two youngsters fooling around?” Claw pointed at Toru and Varg who were at a fair distance ahead of them and appeared to be engaged in a race of some sort.

“Varg might have something against being called a youngster,” he pointed out.

“He cannot deny that I’m his senior,” Claw retorted, but with good humor. “Come on, healer, what’s bothering you so much that you cannot listen to my boring stories about Shearah’s ugly birdhouses?”

“Ugly? I thought they were just tiny.” Duril stared at Claw and blinked a few times.

“Ah, so I see that you were paying attention to my storytelling, after all.”

“I was,” Duril replied and grinned. “So, why were they so ugly?”

“Nah, you’re not making me forget that you have something to say,” Claw warned.

Duril sighed. “All right. After all, you caught me letting my mind wander to all of these things. Well, I don’t know if I should dismiss it as a silly worry or not, but I fear that the evil we keep chasing around might just choose to return to the places we thought we saved from it.”

“You shouldn’t worry about that much. Don’t you think that all the people you left behind have become stronger for it? The Grand Chief would surely find a proper punishment, and of the orcish type, for anyone who dares to think otherwise.”

“I have to say,” Duril admitted, “that I wasn’t worrying as much about Zukh Kalegh as about the people we left behind in Fairside and Shroudharbor.”

Claw squeezed his shoulder in sympathy. “I cannot give you words of wisdom as I fear that they would sound as cheerful as bells, but just as hollow. But I can tell you that you, and Varg, and Toru are doing more for this world than anyone else. Rulers with scepters of gold and silver in their hands, armies that call men to arms from all over Eawirith, wise men perusing old texts in libraries everywhere, none of them can say that they’re doing more than you to rid the world of evil.”

“Do you say that I should be content with doing the best we can?” Duril asked and looked into Claw’s dark eyes.

“Content? Even if I said that, your lot looks to me like it’s anything but content,” Claw said with a low chuckle. “The path leads forward, Duril. Our past tugs at our hearts with its gentle whispers, and sometime needy whines, but heroes are made to walk the earth and reach its end, wherever that may be.”

Duril patted Claw’s hand resting on his shoulder. “And you were saying that you wouldn’t offer me words of wisdom. It appears to me that you did just that now.”

“If I can ever be of help, then I am,” Claw offered simply.

“Then stay with us,” Duril said suddenly. He looked away. He had talked to Toru about not pestering Claw with such things, and there he was, letting his mouth get the better of him.

“Did Toru put you up to ask?” Claw laughed, and Duril felt his hearing teased by the low inflections of that laugh.

“Actually, no. I apologize, Claw. I shouldn’t ask something that I know is for you to decide.”

“Don’t ever hesitate to ask,” Claw replied. “Even if my answer may not always be the one you hope for, just knowing that you cared enough to ask me is enough for me.”

“We’re getting closer,” Duril pointed out. “The Quiet Woods are in our reach.”

The sight of the majestic trees in the distance had been with them for a while now. Claw raised his nose and inhaled deeply. “Nothing like the smell of home,” he said and his gaze drifted to drink in the sight of the place he called home.

***

Varg could barely keep Toru from prancing around like a young colt. The first thing he had noticed ever since entering The Quiet Woods was how pleasant the air felt. The wind seemed to have settled, and something about the silence of the forest was an invitation for a sleep.

Not that it was something that happened to everyone, he thought as he grabbed Toru by the shoulders.

“Where is all that salmon? I’ll even take that honey now, I’m that hungry,” Toru said quickly.

Claw and Duril were following them, not very far away.

“So, what do you all say?” Claw shouted so that the entire group could hear him.

“I’ve never seen a forest as quiet, yet as alive as this one,” Varg confirmed. He stared as a red bug climbed a tree, seemingly there with a purpose in mind. If one looked closer, it was easy to tell that the forest was teeming with life.

And the silence was not actually silence. The humming of a gentle river beckoned them from not that far away. A tiny bird insistently called for its mate from the crown of a tall oak overhead. The trees were nothing like Varg had ever seen, not that he hadn’t seen oaks or forests, but because trees of so many kinds lived there together like nowhere else. Squirrels could find hearty meals in the acorns peppering the soil, but the orange elongated fruits hanging low here and there should have belonged somewhere else.

Varg picked one up and threw it at Claw who caught it deftly. “Are you going to teach us how to eat these?” he challenged.

Claw took a bite out of the meaty pulp. The crunchy sound made Varg’s belly growl. “It’s easy,” the bear replied. “You just eat it.”

Satisfied with that answer, and thirsty after their long walk, Varg picked one for himself. He groaned in delight as his mouth was invaded by flavor. “You should try one, Toru,” he suggested and handed the young tiger half of his fruit.

“I want salmon, not fruit,” Toru said petulantly. “If I don’t get one soon, I guess I’ll have to climb a tree and get myself some eggs from one of these ugly birdhouses.”

“You shouldn’t let Shearah know what you think of her handiwork,” Claw warned.

“Who’s Shearah? Did she make these ugly things?” Toru asked.

Varg examined the birdhouses. They were mainly made of little branches sticking out everywhere. They could hardly be called birdhouses, but there was something about them that told the one seeing them that they were, indeed, that. He had suspected the birds were young and trying to build nests for the first time, but, apparently, the resident witch of The Quiet Woods was the one responsible for those unattractive little piles of branches.

“Someone really didn’t pay any attention to me while I talked about my place of origin,” Claw remarked airily.

“I did,” Toru shot back. “When you talked about salmon, and I don’t see any.”

“Just follow me, kitty,” Claw suggested and waved for Toru to join him.

The young tiger didn’t wait to be told a second time and rushed after Claw toward the river. Varg fell in line with Duril. “Does this place feel a little bit magical to you, or is it just me?” he asked directly.

The light filtered through the crown of leaves above them, casting fairytale dots on the ground. The dust they caught glittered with colorful bugs, and everywhere they looked, not one sign of decay was in sight. It felt like a blessed place, and Varg now understood why Claw was so in love with it.

“It’s not just you,” Duril confirmed. “Let me ask a question.” He placed his palm on one of the trees.

Varg watched his companion as he listened closely. It still filled his heart with wonder to witness Duril doing that. His gentle face filled with a new light, and his eyes shone brighter. The healer could believe all he wanted that he had no magic. It seemed that magic lived inside him, whether he was aware of it or not.

Duril leaned closer to the tree and his eyebrows knitted together. A sudden gust of wind made the bugs flutter and scatter away from the rays of light. Varg tensed and was about to ask Duril what he was hearing, when someone attacked him from behind and made him tumble and fall face first.

He broke his fall by placing both hands in front of him. “Kitty!” he growled. Strong paws were pinning him to the ground and it sounded like Toru was munching on something.

“You should try the salmon here, Varg,” Toru said after he swallowed, sighing deeply in satisfaction.

“You are wet and have me on the ground. How am I supposed to try it?” Varg asked.

To make matters worse, Toru shook his coat and made droplets of water spray everywhere. His happy laughter chased away the unnatural tension from before. Varg blinked as the bugs danced in the rays of light once more.

“You try it by catching it yourself. Catch me if you can!”

Varg shifted into his wolf’s coat and raced Toru to the river. The water was cold and invigorating, and they splashed around in it to their heart’s content, while silver bodies of fish jumped into the air at a bend where the river dipped abruptly and made the waters run faster.

He had meant every word about the place being magical. All the colors here were like nowhere else he had ever traveled. Not that he hadn’t seen rivers before, or fish, or bugs of all colors. It was just that all the tones and hues were richer, fuller, and his eyes were quickly growing accustomed to them. It was an easy place to fall in love with, and those who were blessed to call it home were bound to come back, pulled by their heartstrings and helpless to resist.

Toru, it seemed, didn’t overthink things like he was doing right now. He was just taking everything in, laughing and frolicking in the water, while chasing fish to satisfy his hunger. At this point, however, Varg believed that the young tiger was more in it for the sake of play than catching fish to fill his belly.

Claw in his bear shape swam toward them. “How do you like it?” he asked.

“It’s a place like no other I’ve ever seen,” Varg replied honestly.

Claw nodded. “Welcome to The Quiet Woods, puppy.”

Varg wanted to reply, but just then, Toru chose to climb on his back and push him under. He struggled playfully, trying to grab a hold on the golden fur and give the kitty a good serving of his own medicine.

Deep in the water, the surroundings were no less magical. Varg kept his eyes wide open, marveling at the life teeming beneath, silver, red, and black-bodied fish hiding in large underwater bushes, chasing each other around. The soil on the bottom was smooth like silk and Varg touched it with one paw so that he could push himself back to the surface.

For a moment, it felt like he was sinking, the smooth soil opening under his paw and covering it gently. Varg jerked as an unnatural sensation that he was suddenly trapped flooded him. His paw freed from whatever that was right away, and he looked, dreading to find something that wasn’t supposed to be in such a charmed place.

A small black shrub emerged from the soil, and then quickly turned into an underwater creature, scurrying away, probably more scared of Varg than he of it. He shook his head and pushed himself up to reach the surface. After so much time fighting evil everywhere they went, it appeared that he was becoming easily alarmed.

To his surprise, he wasn’t close to the surface when he was grabbed and pulled out of the river by two strong arms. He stared into Claw’s eyes, which were searching his face with something akin to alarm.

“Are you going to put me down already, flea bag?”

Claw laughed. “I thought you weren’t coming back up, but it looks like you’re just the same mutt. Did you find one of the beautiful river nymphs down below?”

“What nymph? It was just a little shrub-fish that wanted to shake hands with me. And I wasn’t down there that long, was I?”

Claw answered him with a grin. “Maybe not for you, but we were missing you up here already.”

Unlike the rest of them who would eat raw fish just as happily as not, Duril was already getting busy with a fire and impaling fish on sticks that he then leaned toward the flames just enough so that they didn’t get charred but were cooked well. They were a bunch of animals compared to the gentle healer. That reminded Varg that he wanted to ask a question.

Claw put him down but not without squeezing him in his arms once more, and Varg walked over to Duril. Seeing how he was busy, Toru turned his attention toward Claw and jumped on his back. The bearshifter didn’t hesitate to pull the youngster into the water with him, for a little more playful fun.

Varg sat by Duril’s side and watched him as he prepared the fish. “When you touched the tree, Duril, was it just my imagination or did you look worried for a moment?”

The healer stopped and looked at him. “Worried? Well, maybe a little. But I think I’ve gotten so used to seeing evil everywhere, ready to pounce on us, that I find it hard to let my guard down.”

“Same here. Don’t tell those two,” he gestured with his chin toward Toru and Claw who were raising hell and probably scaring all the fish away, “but I got scared by a shrub-fish.”

“What’s a shrub-fish?” Duril asked.

“I don’t know if that is its real name, but I stepped on one, and I swear, hand on heart, that it felt like it was about to pull me under.”

Duril chuckled and then stopped. “So sorry. I shouldn’t laugh, not when I’m ready to jump at the fall of a leaf as it seems.”

Varg pondered for a moment. “What did you hear when you listened to the wood? What did it say to you?”

Duril sighed. “Nothing. Absolutely not a sound. I either don’t speak the language of The Quiet Woods, or I no longer have the gift.”

Varg took the healer’s hand and stared at the symbols on the back, caressing them tenderly. “I find it hard to believe that Lady Amethyst would have given a gift destined to expire.”

“Magic is often beyond our understanding,” Duril said. “Who’s to say that we’re not too far from Fairside for it to work? I’m grateful for having had it, even if only for a little while. Or maybe I need to spend a little more time here so that the trees learn that I’m a friend.”

Friend, the wind whispered. Varg blinked and looked around. “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“It sounded like a voice,” Varg said.

They both looked around, and aside from their rambunctious companions playing in the river, it appeared that no one else was there.

“I don’t hear the woods talking to me, and now you’re the one hearing voices,” Duril remarked with a small smile.

Varg chuckled. “It must have been my imagination.” He stole a look around, but the fleeting moment of unease was already gone.

***

Duril wasn’t the kind to keep secrets, and it didn’t seem like he was doing anything like that. There was something he wasn’t telling Varg, but it didn’t appear to have any special significance. They were strangers to this place, and it might take a while to welcome them with open arms. Maybe he would ask Claw about the magic of the place, and what it stood for.

The moment he had touched the bark and listened closely came back to him like a pesky fly. It wasn’t anything he could put into words as anything but a feeling of unrest growing from a dark seed inside his soul.

He had approached the tree with hope and expectation. But, as his hand rested on the rough surface, no magic happened. There had been no trembling underneath his fingers, no hum of life rising to meet the heat of his hand.

What scared him was that lack of anything, as if there was no life underneath the bark to begin with.

Duril shook his head. He was thinking too much; the magic of talking to trees had been lent to him, not given to have forever. And when had he ever been beguiled before by the thought that he would be so special as to wield magic?

“If you want to have a broiled fish, too, come and eat,” he called to Toru and Claw who emerged from the water laughing and chasing each other.

Such worries were nothing but a flaw of his own heart. Around them, The Quiet Woods were beautiful, welcoming them into their open arms, even if only one of them was their son.

TBC

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