Mikhail held Bakules reins as he followed Anora. For such a short person the goblin could surely move fast when she was angry. He watched her kick rocks and rage as she trudged out of the town of Arendale. He had called her name many times trying to get her attention but each time she ignored him. He supposed that he deserved that for leaving her with the bitter Amdol. The guilt that he felt for doing such a thing had been eating at him since he had left her there and went to the general store. Mikhail noticed that every so often Anora would rub her shoulders and other areas of her small body. After a few hours of walking the goblin slowed her pace but despite anything he said she wouldn’t look back at him.
After another few hours of walking the scenery hadn’t changed much since they had left the village but he could definitely tell that they had been going down hill. If they kept this pace then they would be in the plains soon, maybe by the next morning. He looked around looking for a safe place to make a camp for the night. Just ahead there seemed to be a clear spot in the tall pines. By now Anora had walked off most of her anger and rage and had slowed her pace. “Anora!” Mikhail said loudly. “Let's make camp. I know you have to be hungry.”
To Mikhail’s surprise she stopped walking and turned her head towards him. He could still see the anger in her eyes. He started to say something but didn’t know what to say. Instead he pulled Bakule to the clearing where he wrapped the reins around a low hanging tree limb. Bakule stamped at the ground and then grabbed a mouthful of the sparse grass and began munching. Mikhail started to gather some dried wood from around the area and started to pile it up in the middle of the clearing on top of what looked like the remains of another fire. It seemed that this spot had been used before. Anora walked over to a secluded spot and sat upon a fallen and dead log, grabbing a stick and stabbed at the ground with it. Mikhail looked over at her, the look upon her face making him feel worse than he had. He was going to have to apologize to her but he had a feeling that he had broken the little trust that she had gathered for him.
After about twenty minutes a moderate fire was burning and Mikhail had produced some fresh salted meat that he had gotten from the goods store in Arendale along with some bread and cheese. Anora had remained on her log, every so often rubbing her bruises and glancing at Mikhail. Everytime Mikhail caught her looking she would avert her gaze back at the ground. By the time the meat had finished cooking the sun had gone down, the warm air had chilled and the scent of the pine forest had been replaced by the strong aroma of cooked meat and warm bread. Mikhail’s stomach grumbled as he grabbed two wooden plates from the pack on Bakule’s back. Walking back to the fire he pulled a knife from his belt and cut a chuck from it. He then tore some bread and cheese off of their respective loaves and placed it all on the plate. He walked over to the short goblin woman and handed the plate out. Anora looked at it then turned her head. Mikhail sighed and set the plate down beside her.
He returned to the fire and repeated the same steps for his plate. Sitting back down on his log he started to eat. “You should eat.” He said to her as he pointed to her plate. Anora flicked her eyes at him, her orange orbs reflecting the firelight with an intensity that he hadn’t ever seen. Her look seemed to say “Screw you”. Anora returned to looking at the ground. The next few minutes seemed to last longer than they did as the air now had a noticeable tension between them. Mikhail sat for a while watching her and trying to figure out how to get her to eat. She was already very thin and the beautiful dress that she wore hung off of her.
Mikhail then did something that felt more like a gut feeling than anything. Something that Anora didn’t expect. He got up and walked over to sit beside her. After a few moments of silence Mikhail said. “I know that you are mad at me.” Sighing he continued. “You should be.” Anora shrugged and continued to dig into the ground with the stick she had grabbed when she first sat down.
“I told you that you would be safe in Arendale and it turned out to be a lie.” Another sigh. “For that I am sorry.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Anora stopped pushing the stick back and forth and looked up at him, even sitting down she still had to look up at Mikhail. This time the look on her face and in her eyes were surprise and a bit of shock. He was the first being to ever apologize to her for something and as much as she wanted to stay angry with him the look in his eyes took the wind out of those sails. She could see genuine guilt in his blue orbs.
Mikhail looked into her orange eyes, in the instant after he said that the anger in her visage softened a bit. It was still there but the fire of it was not burning as brightly as it had. Mikhail picked up the plate that he had handed her earlier and placed it in her lap. Anora followed the action then looked back at him. “It’s ok to be angry with me. I’ll never do that again. I promise.” he told her. In the back of his mind he could hear the voice of his mother say. “Never make a girl a promise you can’t keep”
The two of them studied each other for a moment. Mikhail looking for forgiveness in the striking orange orbs and Anora looking for trust in his blue ones. A wolf's howl broke the silence. It seemed that all sound returned to the area with it. Mikhail returned to his meal and to his surprise Anora began to eat hers. He could see tears falling onto the plate though and wasn’t sure why. He kept quiet and let her cry. After the meal Mikhail, using some of the water from a wineskin, rinsed the plates then set them out to dry. The wood was treated in an oil but if water sat on them for too long then they could swell and crack. He then removed the saddle and packs from Bakule.
Seeing movement from the corner of his eye he saw Anora remove the gray cloak, rubbing her bruises once again, a pained expression on her face. A fresh wave of guilt hit him. He was directly responsible for those bruises and the pain that she had experienced. His blood boiled at remembering the sight of Amdol beating her, hell his blood boiled even more knowing that he had left her with him. Bending down he reached into a pocket in the leather pack and pulled out an ointment. It had been given to him by his mother to help with any pain and sores that he may receive on his journey. He also grabbed a few pieces of scrap cloth.
Mikhail stood up and spun on his heels, determination to correct his sin set firmly in his mind. He walked back over to where Anora sat and plopped down beside her. She looked up at him then at the items he had in his hand. “It’s ok. He told her. “It’s a salve that my mother gave me.” He opened the container and inside was a green substance that had a strong minty odor. Mikhail held it for her to smell. Anora wrinkled her nose at it then looked at him as if saying. “What is it for?”
“It’s for your sore bruises.” he told her and pointed at the obvious ones that he could see. Dark green splotches covered her arms and exposed shoulders, a stark reminder to him of the day's events. He could see that she didn’t quite understand so he set the pieces of cloth down and scooped a small amount onto his right hand. Then he reached up and slid his fingers under his tunic, rubbing the cream onto his left shoulder, wincing as he rubbed in the cream. Then he smiled and said, “Much better. Now it won’t hurt.”
Anora looked at his shoulder remembering how he had taken a blow that had been meant for her then at the container of ointment. She nodded her head and turned a bit. Mikhail blinked, surprised that that had worked. He scooped up a small amount of the cream and then slowly he reached forward, placing it upon the exposed skin of her shoulders. Mikhail nervously began to rub in the cream on the bruises, Anora wincing and breathing in sharply as he did. An anxious knot formed in Mikhail's stomach as something else seemed to expand in his lower regions. Soon his face was red as he continued to rub the ointment on her bruises. He ignored the thoughts that popped into his mind.
After several long, awkward minutes Mikhail grabbed the pieces of cloth and placed the ointment on them then placed them on to Anora’s exposed skin. He then placed the lid back onto the cream and placed the gray cloak back upon Anora’s shoulders. Rising from the log he returned to the pack and put the salve up. Trying to hide his nether regions he kept his back to her for a moment as he grabbed the wineskin and drank some water. Finally feeling more comfortable he turned around and offered her some water which she gladly accepted and drank. “It's getting late,” he said. “We should go to sleep.”
Anora handed the wineskin back to him and nodded, rolling her shoulders. The relieving effects of the ointment starting to sink in. She tied the cloak and then yawned. Mikhail grabbed one of the blankets and set it out for Anora beside the fire then he grabbed his to lay on. He laid it down beside Bakule who had already beaten them to the task of sleep. Mikhail walked over to the fire and placed another log on the fire as Anora laid down. He looked at her and smiled before saying. “Goodnight.” Then he sat down on his blanket and leaned against Bakules stomach. For a moment he watched Anora, who faced the fire, and thought of the sensation that he had felt earlier. He hadn’t ever been with a girl even though he had liked a great many of them. Not moments ago he had rubbed the skin of one, his guilt turning into arousal. He pushed the thought from his mind. Being attracted to a goblin was not something that would go over well with his family or his village. Soon tiredness won out and his eyes closed, bringing the sweet feeling of the void with it.