Page 21 of Halfling
“And you’ve hunted this territory often?”
They came across a downed tree, an ancient redwood that must have been felled in the terrible thunderstorms the region had had this past summer. It’d been tall enough that walking around would take more time than simply climbing over.
With a running start, Orek bounded up the massive trunk, balancing on the rounded top.
Sorcha blinked up at him from below and he realized her predicament.
Before he could do anything, she began climbing, finding handholds in the fibrous bark. Her boots scraped, and he knelt to offerher a hand. She considered it and the way she still had to go beforetentatively taking it. He stood, pulling her up beside him. A surprised whuff left her lips, and he jumped to the ground on the other side to avoid looking at the perfectoof her mouth and make another memory.
He offered his hand again, and she took it, kneeling before making the leap.
Orek let go of her hand, annoyed at himself once more. She was smaller than him and couldn’t do what he could—her scent would be on that tree, a clue they couldn’t afford to leave for Silas. He’d never had to consider another’s ability before. At least, not one weaker than him. Amongst the clan, he was considered weakest and therefore everyone else stronger and a threat.
Sorcha was neither of those things.
He heard her clear her throat.
“You know this area well?”
She was persistent, he’d give her that.
“Yes.”
“You’ve lived in the mountains and forest a while?”
“All my life.”
“And your clan?”
“Yes.”
He could feel her eyes on the back of his head. She wanted something else, something more, but he wasn’t sure what. He answered her questions and yet it didn’t seem to be enough.
“You’ve been to the village we’re going to before?”
“I’ve seen it.”
“Do others of your clan go there?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“We aren’t welcome.”
“So you haven’t actually gone into the village.”
That hadn’t been a question.
“No,” he said as though it had been. Of course he’d never been into the village. Why should he? He was reviled enough within the clan, but at least he looked somewhat like them.
The thought of his clan and his precarious place in it soured his mood. Tired from little sleep and flustered by a companion when he’d never had one before, he didn’t mean to be harsh answering her next question with, “Why do you ask?” but his gruffness echoed through the forest nonetheless.
Silence met his one and only question, and Orek gritted his fangs.
She didn’t fall off his pace, continued following him as he led them into a thicket of dense ferns. There was no getting around this place, the leafy ferns growing for miles in either direction, so he chose his route carefully. Sorcha kept with him, but for long moments, she said nothing.
The sudden return to silence gnawed at his belly, making him press his fangs to his gums.
