Search for the Extinct [Last of Elves book 2]

Five: Kuraĝon

Kuraĝon

By the end of Late Autumn, they’d travelled over nearly half the land. She was weary, tired of not being able to stay in one place, and she wanted to be home for winter. From the sky as the sun set, it seemed like it was going to be a bad season.

As they camped that night, with her brother cooking, and while she was tending to her daggers, she spoke to him.

“Where are we heading tomorrow, Ali?”

“Home,” he replied absently, turning the rabbit on the rough spit. “Early Winter’s close, and there’s going to be bad snow this year.”

She could have wept with relief. As it was, she nearly knocked them both into the fire from the force of her hug. “You really mean it?”

He grinned at her, still keeping one eye on their dinner. “Yes, Kura. I mean it. I know you’ve hated the last few months, and I’m sorry for it.”

She shook her head, sheathing her dagger as she settled on the log opposite him. “I have,” she admitted. “But I know that his call isn’t going to get any weaker over winter. You’re sure?”

He nodded, throwing half the rabbit to her. “Yes. It’s going to take twice as long to push through as it would if we stay put.”

Her mouth full and meat juices dripping down her chin, she stared at him. “Wha …?” Her response was muffled, barely comprehensible, but he knew what she was trying to say.

“The sky.” He gestured to it. “It’s been bad for a few weeks. There’s lots of snow coming.”

She’d swallowed this time. “Like that time years ago?”

He nodded slowly, something clouding his eyes. He stared into the fire, merely holding his share of the food. She reached out for it.

“If you’re not going to eat that …”

He snorted, and took a bite. “Far åt helvete,” he retorted, moving out of her reach.

She grinned at him, demolishing her own. “Fine,” she said, almost primly, and he laughed at her.

“Nice try, little sister. You want more, you find the stupid things yourself. I’m not cooking.”

She narrowed her eyes. It was no idle threat. They both knew that she could burn water. “You’re cruel, Ali.”

“Of course I am. Yet you’re still here.” He waved the stick that he’d used as a spit in the air, and then stabbed it into the fire. “I know you only stick around because of my cooking.”

With a growl, she tackled him, her hard fists landing on his equally as hard body. He didn’t bother to defend himself. He was nearly crying because of his laughter.

“You fool!”

He caught one of her hands, looking up at her from where she sat on him. “I know, Kura. You tell me so frequently.”

She pulled out of his grip, and ruffled his hair. It was full of dust and dirt, with leaves and tiny twigs knotting the long strands, but the silver threads were still visible. As were hers.

“I know,” she whispered. What she didn’t know was what she’d do without him.

Now that she knew where they were going, she made sure that she filled their days with laughter and jokes, continually teasing him. As always, he took it good naturedly, but she still sensed something off about him. The beastkins were the same.

They snapped and snarled at each other, not helping the overall mood.

Eventually, Kuraĝon stayed silent. Her brother wasn’t in the mood to speak, and the beastkins had finally settled themselves somewhat. She hoped that it was because they were almost home. Only a day or so to go.

Their home was where they’d left it, still tucked away in the depths of Mutestep Wood. It was named for the eerie silence that fell once the edge of the forest was left behind. No sun reached the thickly carpeted ground, and very few birds lived among the trees.

Barely a stone’s throw away from the capital of Highstone, they practically lived under the nose of the high priestess. Both of them enjoyed the irony, and kept themselves well out of sight.

Neither of them wanted to see her again.

The house was untouched, which was expected. They were the only ones who knew the way, and because of the thick leaf litter on the ground, they left no tracks.

Seeing his preoccupation, Kuraĝon took care of both horses, ignoring the stallion’s attempts to nibble her sleeve. She was used to it.

Instead, she kept a close eye on her brother. He was restless, pacing the bare earth in front of the cottage. So much so that she could see the track.

Something was worrying him, but she didn’t know what. Didn’t know if it was Åska, or something else he hadn’t told her.

Kura's curses:

Far åt helvete - go to hell