Fan Fiction request by Mr. Blackstar

Part 2 - Mended Souls

Three days passed, each seeming longer than the last. Gorthan could hear Klark speaking with them, and he found out a little about them through their conversations. Apparently they were a group of survivors from First Warren, along with a few top warriors who had secreted them out of the city. They were just about to flee to another fortified citadel when they saw Klark and Gorthan. They were very friendly, sharing their rations, binding their wounds.

They tried to get more information about them, which Klark gave willingly. However much they tried to question Gorthan, he wouldn’t speak. Klark tried over and over to get him to say something, anything, but he wouldn’t make a sound. He was barely even aware that they were talking to him. He felt like he was trapped inside of a dense fog that kept his mind prisoner. He hated it.

On the evening of the third day, Gorthan was sitting on a log by the dying fire, watching the flames slowly diminish. It was quiet all around him. The other survivors were sleeping around him, wrapped in their cloaks to ward off the night wind. Gorthan pulled his borrowed wrap around him, barely feeling the chill.

Close by, he heard something stir, but didn’t care to look up. After a few seconds, Klark sat down beside him. He didn’t seem to be trying to get Gorthan’s attention, just stretching his hands out towards the heat and looking at the forest around him.

“You saved my life, you know.” Klark said, breaking the silence. “Never had anyone do that for me before.”

Gorthan remained silent, though one ear turned towards Klark of its own accord.

“I know you probably regret it. Goodness knows I’ve been nothing but a bully in the past. And, if you hadn’t, Marc might still be here…” Klark took in a shaky sigh. His voice betrayed the emotion he was trying to hide. “But I want you to know that I will be forever grateful. I… I’ve taken so much from you, and you only gave me more in return.” Klark’s words rushed out, trembling, humble. Gorthan felt a burst of warmth spread in his heart, filling his chest like a tall, hot drink. He could feel his breathing tighten.

“I’ve been nothing but rotten, stubborn, and a coward. It’s my fault you had to rescue me, my fault Marc was injured, it was all my fault!” Klark’s words were starting to dissolve into sobs. “I wouldn’t blame you if you hate me. I deserve it. I deserve it all—“

Klark was cut off when Gorthan placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Klark looked up into his eyes, tears dripping like liquid crystals from his muzzle. Gorthan could feel his eyes tearing up as well. He swallowed, then spoke for the first time in days.

“It wasn’t your fault.” His voice was rough from disuse and sorrow. “I don’t regret any of it. Any of it.”

Klark sniffed, wiped his eyes, and forced a shaky smile. Gorthan smiled as well. It almost felt like the warmth in his chest was bringing the shattered pieces of his heart back together.

The next day, the small band of rabbits were surprised to hear Gorthan speaking, and eating everything handed to him. Klark spoke nothing of the night before, but at one point when Gorthan glanced over at him, he met his eyes, giving a tiny nod and a smile.

They had been traveling due north for days, stopping only for food and rest. Gorthan wasn’t quite sure where they were headed, he only knew that it was somewhere in the mountain ranges.

Gorthan let himself sink into the soft bed and sighed. He and the others had arrived in Cloud Mountain only a few hours before, footsore and hungry. Apparently, nobody had known it was there, aside from one rabbit in the group, who was leading them. Gorthan didn’t know what his name was, and he spoke very little, but had led them steadfastly along an easy path. When they had gone in, they were escorted by soldiers, who were spoken to by the silent rabbit, and then swiftly led to rooms with clean clothes and vittles on trays. Gorthan had only taken a swift look at his surroundings, changed his clothes, ate, and crashed into the mountain of pillows and blankets in the corner. He wanted nothing more than sleep.

Gorthan blinked open his eyes. The room around him was filled with blinding white light from the window, and he figured it was late morning. He tried to wipe the haze of sleep from his eyes, and tilt his head to the side. After he pulled his hand away, he felt an insistent, prickling pain in his eye. He wiped at it again, then realized with annoyance that a bit of fur had gotten in his eye.

He picked and picked again at his eye, trying to dislodge the pain, but it only seemed to get further stuck in there. Squinting his eye, he thought about going to get water to wash it out. As he turned to the door, somebody gave a fast, heavy knock that almost made Gorthan fall back into the bed.

“I’m awake!” He shouted without thinking. The door swung open, and Klark’s face peeked in, amused.

“Hey, sleepy-head! We’re going down to breakfast. You gonna sleep all day?”

At the mention of food, Gorthan’s stomach ran a javelin into his throat, almost blocking the pain from his eye. He tried to keep the saliva in the back of his throat as he got onto his feet.

“Nope. I’m ready!”

“Good. Hey, what’s wrong with your eye?”

Gorthan widened his eye in an attempt to make it look normal. “Er, nothing.”

“Right. Well, come on, then.” Klark turned and strode away, and Gorthan followed close behind. He tried to discreetly rub his eye, rub away the resulting tears, and quickly smile at passing soldiers who gave him strange looks.

Gorthan glanced around as he walked, taking in the sights, the sounds. There weren’t many civilians around, mostly tall rabbits with an insignia on their uniforms and a sword strapped to their side. Gorthan turned his head away when he saw the exposed steel, unwelcome visions of blood winding around his vision. When he turned his head, he ran straight into Klark, who had stopped abruptly in front of him. His snout cracked painfully against his back, and pain blossomed all the way into his mouth and skull. He inhaled sharply, renewed tears springing in his eyes.

“Oof!” Klark grunted, staggering forward. He turned and shot Gorthan an annoyed glance. Gorthan tried to smile apologetically, wrapping his hands around his throbbing nose. Klark turned back around, and Gorthan could see that there was an amused-looking soldier in front of them, with his hands crossed over his chest. Gorthan turned his head away to hide his pain.

“Excuse me, could you tell me which way the Savory Den is?” Klark asked the buck in front of them politely. The soldier pointed behind them.

“If you came from that way, then you just passed it. That last side tunnel, straight down.”

“Thank you.” Klark turned quickly, nearly ran into Gorthan, still holding his nose, and paced back the way they came.

“Are you alright, son?” Gorthan’s ears pricked when he heard the buck speak to him in a gentle voice. His eyes widened. He sounded so familiar… and he stared at him with such compassionate eyes.

It took him a moment to reply. “Y-yes, sir. I’m fine.”

The soldier smirked kindly. His fur was dark red, brushed back neatly. His eyes were almost amber, an unusual color. He nodded once, then went back to attention.

Gorthan broke out of his daze and jogged hurriedly after Klark.

The smells hit him first. Through the metallic smell that remained in his nose, he could detect the scent of rosemary, garlic, thyme. His mouth watered further, and he had to swallow twice.

“Smells like the dining hall from home…” Klark mumbled awkwardly. Gorthan nodded, remembering. The time when he wanted to see anything outside of Chelmsford’s walls. The time when he was eager to fight, and even more eager to serve.

“I miss home.” He whispered. He winced when he realized he said it aloud. But Klark only nodded, a sad expression passing over his face.

When Gorthan and Klark passed the threshold of the Savory Den, Gorthan couldn’t hold back a gasp.

The room was enormous, almost twice as big as the dining hall in Chelmsford. There were young cooks running about, attending to soldiers, passing out loaded plates and running back into the kitchens with ones scraped clean.

Klark punched him in the shoulder. “Over there, I see Halbard and Joe.”

Gorthan followed him over to the two rabbits that they had been traveling with for a while. He felt a sudden shyness in their presence, having not taken the time to get to know them better. He felt slightly ashamed that they were practically strangers, even though they saved their lives. Gorthan sat down next to Klark, trying to think of something to say.

“Greetings, Gorthan. I trust you slept well?” Joe smiled at him. Well, it was more of a smirk than a smile, rather like a nervous twitch. Gorthan nodded. “I did. And you?” He asked politely.

“Ha! Old Joe never sleeps.” Halbard poked the buck with his fork, winning him another flickering smirk. “He would beat the coyotes at the kill, he would.”

“Ah, but I could never beat you to the meals, now can I?” Joe stared at him bemusedly under half-lidded eyes. Halbard chuckled merrily, then turned back to the two young bucks. “I imagine you’re a little confused. To be square with you, I am too, a little. But Joe’s been here more times than naught, so maybe he will tell us a little something?” His eyes reverted back to Joe, who was currently sipping something hot and dark from a mug.

The attention was broken, however, when two apprentices wearing aprons and apologetic expressions quickly slid two plates in front of Gorthan and Klark, then rushed away to attend to others in the room. The meal before them was magnificent. Hot rolls drenched in honey, steamed vegetables mixed with a flour and rice gravy, garnished with herbs.

Klark blinked, then covered his eyes. “So much steam coming from this, it’s clogging my eyes…”

Gorthan chuckled. He reached down to grab a utensil. When his hand closed over the fork, however, Klark was swift in slapping it away.

“Hey, that’s my fork. Get your own.”

“But it’s the only fork I’ve got!”

“Er, well…” Klark trailed off. Joe snorted loudly, and Halbard tried to hide his smile behind a napkin.

“We could share it.” Gorthan offered. Suddenly, something small and pointed smacked Gorthan on the side of the head and clattered to the table. He looked down to see another small fork on the wood. He stared at it, then looked over to see a horrified apprentice standing only several feet away. He tried to give a reassuring smile, but then jumped when a booming voice rang through the room.

“My dear lad, does this look like an archery class to you? I will thank you to not use our guests as target practice, my boy.” The voice came from a rather heavyset rabbit with a white apron walking his way through the tables. He spoke sternly, but his eyes glimmered with good humor. The apprentice nodded swiftly, then ducked back into the kitchen. Gorthan turned his attention back to the buck, who was now standing at their table.

“Ah, well now, I trust there was no harm from my apprentice practicing his pitching skills, lad?” He smiled warmly. There was a rather large stain on his apron, and a light dusting of flour on his cheek. Gorthan caught a whiff of him. He smelled of the kitchen, blended herbs and spices, raw vegetables and baked goods.

“No, sir.” Gorthan replied after a few moments. He was slowly taking a liking to the cook, and could feel himself relax.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Klark smirked.

“Are all of your apprentices like that?” Joe snorted. The chef shook his head good-naturedly.

“Good to see you too, Joe. No, fortunately. He’s a new one, still getting used to being outside of the kitchen.” He winked then. “A little flustered, is all.”

“Well, I don’t believe we’ve met before. You are…?” Halbard stared up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Kairo is the name, Kairo Cook.” Kairo gestured with his hand, “And you?”

“My name is Halbard, hailing from First Warren. These two are Klark and Gorthan, apprentices from Chelmsford.” He pointed them out individually. Klark nodded in an attempt at politeness, while Gorthan merely gave a nervous smile and dipped his head once, ears tilting back.

“It is an honor, Halbard O’First and apprentices Klark and Gorthan.” He placed a hand on his chest and bowed slightly. “I hope the meal is to your liking?”

Gorthan forked a potato while Halbard answered, “I would say so. Best food I’ve had in days.”

“And you, Joe? Should I bother even asking?”

Joe nodded. “Was good.”

Gorthan closed his mouth around the forkful of food, and his eyes immediately widened. All of his senses tingled, and he could feel his mouth flooding with saliva.

“It’s…” He mumbled.

“Lad?”

“It’s the best food I’ve ever tasted in my whole life!” Gorthan exclaimed. A couple heads turned in his direction from the other tables, but he didn’t notice. Kairo threw his head back in a hearty laugh, placing his hand on Gorthan’s shoulder.

“Now there, lads, is someone who has a taste for fine cooking!” He leaned down and gave Gorthan a conspiratorial wink. “Could use more young bucks like you around here.” He huffed again in laughter, then proceeded to leave.

“Well, somebody’s made a new friend.” Klark muttered. Gorthan turned towards him and raised an eyebrow.

“What? Don’t look at me like that.” Klark turned back to his meal, taking a large bite out of a roll. Joe visibly rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

Sorry it took so long! I almost have part 3 done, and it should be over soon :)