Garrett flushed. With Clan Boric, he’d been an anomaly as the lone boy studying herbalism. Even though he’d been good at it, they’d never honored him with the designation of healer. “I dabble. A young girl in my village had a similar problem. This seemed to help her.”
Melodee hummed as she broke the wax seal to smell the contents of the jar. She frowned curiously and took a pinch to add to her cup before scooping some hot water from the pot hanging in the stove. The kitchen filled with the smell of mint, basil, and licorice root.
Garrett watched as Melodee closed her eyes and breathed deep. When she finally set the cup down, her breathing seemed to come a little easier. She gave him a curious look. “You are a strange sort of traveler, Garrett.”
His grin came out crooked. “You can drink it, too. With a bit of honey, it can help soothe a sore throat.”
Melodee chuckled at that. “Versatile little concoction.” She grabbed a jar from her shelves and spooned a drop of honey into her cup. “Thank you.”
They fell into a comfortable silence as the sun disappeared behind the mountains, leaving them with the crackling light of the stove and the few candles Melodee had on the center of the small table. Once she finished clearing away the remnants of her work, she spooned him a wooden bowl of pottage.
“I promised you a meal, so eat your fill.”
“Thank you again for this, ma’am,” he said as he took the bowl. After weeks of cold bread, salted meat, and half-frozen vegetables, the hot pottage, rich with lentils and bacon, was the best thing he’d ever tasted. He cleaned his bowl quickly, but when Melodee filled it a second time, he forced himself to slow down.
He was so focused on his food that he didn’t notice the old woman watching him over her own bowl. “You’re not a full-blooded one, are you?”
Garrett’s face heated at the question, but he answered all the same. “No.”
Melodee hummed at that. “Well, I don’t care what blood you have. You did me a great favor today. I’d wager I have enough wood to last the winter,” she said before she got up and added another spoonful to his half-eaten bowl.
The tension eased from Garrett’s shoulders as he took another bite. Melodee sank into her seat at the table again. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s a half-orc doing outside of the high plains?”
Garrett swallowed his mouthful and decided to tell her the truth. At least part of it. “I made myself unwelcome there. So I decided to leave.”
Had he ever been welcome, though? Even before his father’s death and all that had happened after, he’d never been accepted in his home - not truly. The quiet stigma, the casual ostracization, had worn on him like a river against a sunken rock. A steady, relentless erosion. Maybe that was why it had been so easy to walk through the gates of the only home he’d known with no intention of ever returning.
Melodee hummed again, her keen eyes finding the fading bruises on his face, the divot in his recently broken nose. “Where are you headed?”
Garrett’s next bite stuck in his throat. He shook his head as he cleared it. “I’m not sure.”
When he glanced up, Melodee looked at him with something like pity. “I thought you looked lost when you came into town. What was so dire that it made you leave without so much as a plan?”
Garrett swallowed and looked down, afraid to meet her eyes. He didn’t want her to see the guilt on his face. Didn’t want her to look through his facade to see the blood on his hands.
Melodee frowned at his silence as she considered him. “You know, my husband and I used to live in Frostcliff. It’s just a few days north of here. My son works the mines there. Six weeks on and one week off. He’s usually able to come home unless the roads get too bad to travel. It’s hard work, but I bet they’d take you.”
Garrett was all too aware of his own strength. To the humans of the Hobokins, he had precious little to offer but a few herb mixes and a strong back. A job like that could get him some coin, which would allow him to get some real supplies before he moved on.
It felt like the start of a plan. It felt like hope. “Thank you, Melodee. After I tend to your goats tomorrow morning, I’ll head that way.”
Melodee gave a small smile before saying, “Sometimes you have to wander until you can find your bearings. I hope you can find your way in Frostcliff.”
“Thank you,” Garrett said sincerely. “I… hope so, too.”
He finished his last few bites before handing the empty bowl back to Melodee. The shutters rattled, and the chill wind that crept through made the candles on the table gutter. Melodee put their empty bowls in the washbasin before she said, “It’s too cold to send you to the barn. You’ll sleep on Henry’s bed tonight.”
Garrett was about to protest until she pulled back a curtain that hid a small alcove where a hay-stuffed bed waited. The pillow and quilt looked so inviting that he couldn’t help but concede. Melodee did him one more kindness by heating a bowl of water and giving him a cloth to bathe with. He made good use of it before changing into his spare shirt.
Clean and warm, with a belly full of food, he laid down and was asleep the second his head hit the pillow. And for the first time since he’d left home, he didn’t dream of Rogan’s bloodied face or Amri’s wail of pain. He slept so hard that he dreamed of nothing at all.
The next morning, Garrett stayed true to his word. He went out and mucked the goat’s pen before milking the curly-horned nanny goat, Astrid. By the time he was finished, Melodee had a bundle packed for him, wrapped neatly in burlap. Inside was a loaf of fresh bread, a sizable round of goat’s cheese, and a dozen hard-boiled eggs.
“This should be enough to get you to Frostcliff,” she said.
Garrett couldn’t help but smile as he took the generous parcel. “More than enough, I’d wager.”
Melodee held up a finger before disappearing back inside. She returned with a large, well-oiled skin. “My husband used this for shelter when he went out on his hunting trips. Gods know I don’t have much use for it.”
