Tears of gratitude pricked at the corners of his eyes as she offered it to him. It would do wonders to keep the cold and snow off him at night. He cleared his throat before asking, “You said your son works at the mines in Frostcliff?” Melodee nodded, and he said, “Then I’ll be sure to give this to him so he can return it to you.”
Melodee chuckled at that and took the skin back before pointing for him to crouch. He did as asked, and she managed to fit the skin and rations into his pack before tying the bag shut again.
“You have a kind soul, Garrett,” she said. “You’re walking a difficult road, but I hope you never lose that.”
Garrett straightened and adjusted the straps of his pack. With it full of food and supplies, it weighed much more than he was used to. It was a problem he was happy to have. “So long as I find people like you along my way, I don’t think I could. Thank you, Melodee.”
The old woman smiled up at him as she took his hand and squeezed gently. “Take care of yourself, lad.”
“I’ll try.”
2
Melodee’s kindness helped make the trip to Frostcliff far easier than his descent from the high plains. Using the oiled skin as shelter made his nights far warmer, and the food that she had packed for him was rich and filling.
Only half a day outside of Melodee’s village, he started seeing people on the roads. Just a few here and there, usually transporting lumber on sleds pulled by big, woolly horses. Yet with people came the stares. They were less hostile than the ones he’d gotten at Melodee’s village, but the loggers gave him a wide berth all the same.
It left him with an unease he couldn’t shake. A sinking feeling of what sort of reception he’d get in Frostcliff. And when he caught sight of the town, he almost lost his nerve.
It was the biggest settlement he’d ever seen, sprawled out across the valley below. Hundreds of buildings were arranged in a semi-circle around what looked like a giant mine entrance that cut into the mountainside. Even from his vantage point on the hill, he could hear the crash of carts and the clank of metal on rock.
Instead of heading in, he made camp in the woods off of the main road. It was a long, sleepless night, one that he spent mustering his nerve.
Stand tall, his mother had said.Stand proud. And always watch your back.
The next morning, Garrett did just that, though instead of keeping his knife stowed in his pack, he hung it from his belt. It gave him little comfort, because the second eyes landed on him, they narrowed. Unlike Melodee’s village, there wasn’t abject fear at the sight of him. But the cold suspicion, the quiet loathing, seemed like just as much of a threat.
Garrett tried not to show his fear even though it roiled just under the surface. He didn’t bother trying to find lodging. Just going off the looks, he doubted anyone would grant it to him, even if he’d had money. Instead, he sought out the mine.
It was easy enough to find. Just outside of the eastern end of town was the large pit he’d seen from the hill. It reached straight into the mountainside, and the sound of clanking pickaxes was near deafening. Oxen hauled away carts of iron ore, and though the first driver refused to speak to him, the second pointed him towards a small shop erected by the edge of the mine’s entrance.
“Speak to Giselle,” the man said.
She wasn’t hard to find. The ruddy-skinned human sat behind a large desk that was scattered with parchment and rock dust. She didn’t so much as bat an eye at him as Garrett approached. “You looking for work, I assume?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You ever done this kind of work before?” she asked. Garrett debated lying, but Giselle sensed his hesitation. “I’m not gonna turn away a green - or gray - worker,” she said, smirking at her own joke, “but I need honesty to know where to put you so you don’t get yourself killed.”
Garrett swallowed his tongue before shaking his head no. Giselle’s mouth quirked into a grin. “What’s your name, lad?”
“Garrett, ma’am,” he said.
Giselle chuckled. “And a polite one, too. Alright then, Garrett. I’m going to start you on extraction duty. Pays a copper a day and pays out at the end of the week. You cut out mid-week, you forfeit your pay, understood? You’re allowed free lodging in the barracks if you need it, but unless you’re indentured or a convict, I ain’t feeding you. You come and check in with me every morning and every evening at shift’s end. It’s six weeks on, one week off, though if you decide to work any of your off days, you’ll be paid for them. You got any next of kin you want me to notify if an accident happens?”
She ran through the items with the ease of long practice, but Garrett stumbled over the last point. He swallowed and said, “Don’t imagine you’d send notice as far as the high plains, would you?”
Giselle tsked. “Afraid not.”
Pain twisted in his chest. If something happened to him, then his mother would never know. “Then, no. Thank you.”
Giselle wrote up a note with the terms before pushing it across the desk to him. “This says what I just told you. Go ahead and make your mark on the line, and I’ll get you added onto the ledger. It’s early enough, and I’m feeling charitable, so I’ll pay you in full for today if you start right away.”
Garrett swallowed as he looked at the contract. His father had taught him to speak the language used by humans, but Lucas hadn’t been able to read or write, let alone pass that knowledge on to his son. Even so, Garrett took the charcoal pen Giselle offered before he signed his name in orc glyphs.
The door to the office opened behind him and Giselle smiled. “Ah, perfect timing. Love, would you take Garrett here down and show him where he’ll be hauling?”
Garrett turned to come face to face with the largest woman he’d ever seen - orc or otherwise. She stood nearly three full heads over him, heavily muscled with fine blond hair and pale skin that was covered in a light coating of rock dust. A tariten, he realized, one of the giants of the north.
