The neglected path added an hour to their path, which could've been halved with minimal maintenance. Their approach to the farm was heralded by the path gradually becoming more navigable and the sounds of the forest fading to the sound of the baaing of sheep and the sharp call of Axe beaks.
The first farm animal they saw was an Axe beak; it stood almost two meters tall, having thick muscular legs making nearly half its height with a round, fatty body, and a long flexible neck with a sharp beak in the shape of a broken crescent moon.
Despite their formidable appearance, these creatures were not without their vulnerabilities. Elara and Mara watched as one awkwardly tripped and tumbled down a hillside. Its legs, though strong, were not built to withstand such a fall, snapping partway down with a nauseating crunch. The bird's descent ended near the dense tree canopy. While its robust body negated an immediate death, it was clear that a slow end from internal injuries awaited. Thankfully, this grim fate was cut short as a wolf emerged from the underbrush, dragging the incapacitated Axe Beak away.
Elara couldn't help but wince, not out of sympathy for the fallen beast — a creature she knew as a pest — but at the thought of the wasted potential. Given the bird's size, Podkus likely had plans for butchering it. As for Mara, this was far from her first viewing of such a scene; she had become somewhat accustomed to the natural, albeit sometimes harsh, realities of life here. Axe beaks were known for their lack of intelligence and unfitness for the hilly terrain, and often met similar fates.
I really want to ride one, Mara thought as she heard more of their screeches reverberating through the forest.
Passing the site of the Axe Beak's unfortunate end, the expanse of Podkus' farm came into full view. The hillsides were densely cultivated with an array of crops. Traditional staples like wheat, potatoes, and carrots were grown alongside more exotic varieties, unique to Vraelom. These particular crops were planted in carefully arranged ponds, interspersed among the rows of more standard fare.
Roaming close to the forest were a few myriads of animals and a few standard races of cows and chickens, but by far, the Axe beaks and the Stone Herd made the bulk of the life.
The Stone Herd is a race of sheep born in Vraeloom but very commonly seen everywhere, their wool, painted in earthly browns and their considerable bulk gave them the appearance of moving boulders.
Elara slowed her steps as the farm greeted them with rich earthly aromas. It was a feast to the senses, almost hypnotic in its effect. Despite their many visits, there she always discovered some forgotten details that caught her by surprise each time.
Too long, or maybe not long enough… The thought seemed to change with every beating of Elara's heart.
In the fields, bugbears were hard at work under the sun. Their fur, in shades ranging from deep browns to a faded yellow reminiscent of tarnished gold, added vibrant yet harmonious strokes to the landscape. Drenched in sweat, they used their elongated arms to great effect, tending the fields with a proficiency unmatched by other races.
While Elara was lost in her appreciation of the scene, Mara's sudden, excited scream broke the hypnotic moment. "Ruck!" she shouted, pointing enthusiastically.
At the sound of Mara's voice, one of the bugbears paused and lifted their head, their ears twitching as they searched for the source of the scream. It took only a few moments for their gaze to settle on Mara.
A broad, beaming smile briefly lit up the bugbear's face, only to be quickly squashed by a more reserved expression as they walked toward the mother-daughter duo. Elara threw a curious glance at Mara, who was positively bubbling with excitement.
"I met Ruck some four visits ago. Jr. and I were playing by the waterhole when he came to nap there and then–" By the time Ruck neared them Mara had started to crawl away from the inside of the cart. "–He said we shouldn't go near the waterhole. But he taught me all about mushrooms, like which ones are okay to eat and which ones will give you the shits."
Ruck stood out among the other bugbears, a little taller than others, with fur that was a blend of autumn oranges interspersed with bright yellow patches. He stood almost head to head with Elara, him being slightly taller. Across his chest, he wore a leather bandolier with metal flasks, each inscribed in charcoal with the goblin writing. Although Elara couldn't fully understand goblin, its similarity to orcish allowed her to recognize a few common plant names.
Already halfway out of the cart, Mara eagerly jumped down and ran towards Ruck with her arms wide open. Her hair snagged on rocks and plants along the way, causing her to wince, but her determination was undeterred as she barreled forward.
Ruck opened his arms, ready to envelop Mara in a warm embrace, and grunted in slight pain when Mara hit his chest like a flung boulder.
The smile Elara had seen earlier fought to show itself again on Ruck's face, but he managed to keep it subdued. "Whatcha doin' here, kiddo? Yer just messin' with m'work rhythm," His voice sounded as if each word was a battle against his throat, struggling to let enough air pass for speech.
Maybe a throat wound? Elara inspected Ruck, looking for any signs of an injury, but with his thick fur, she soon gave up.
Mara replied with a delighted giggle, latching onto Ruck's furry arms and trying to scale him like a tree. Trying to stop her, ruck gently grasped her with his free hand, extremely careful with his strength. Mara took advantage of his caution, clinging tenaciously to his furry arm, she hauled herself up. Ruck shot a helpless look towards Elara, who simply gestured with a nod of her head for him to follow her as she continued pulling the cart.
"She's quite the rascal, loves to climb. Guess it's just part of growing up 'round here," Elara commented, her tone more amused than apologetic. Despite his displayed annoyance, Ruck didn't seem truly bothered by Mara's antics.
Having successfully scaled Ruck, Mara perched triumphantly on his shoulders like a royal parrot, her face beaming with a victorious smile. From her elevated vantage point, her hair, for once, was lifted off the ground, barely brushing against Ruck's calves.
"That's a bit harsh, ain't it? She's more like a hand-and-a-half of trouble, but sure is fun to gab with," Ruck managed to say, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness.
"'Ain't no need for niceties. Seems like you two been acquainted for some time now, even if it's news to me," Elara remarked, shooting a pointed look at Mara, who sheepishly averted her gaze in response.
Ruck chuckled lightly. "Yer right. I done warned them young'uns more'n once 'bout steerin' clear o' that hole. But d'ya think they paid any mind to ol' Ruck?"
"Kids being kids," Elara said, "Don't call yourself old. Have you any idea how old Podkus is? I bet he's at least double your age."
Ruck responded with a touch of disbelief, "I don't believe that. I'm fifty, ya know." His voice carried a slight hint of dejection.
Elara's laughter rang out at Ruck's response. "Alright, you might not be half his age, but Podkus is still a good deal older. Sure, he looks well for his age, but I'd say that's more about being a centaur. I've never seen an old centaur who didn't still look impressive. They either die in battle or pass away mid-sprint, full of life to the very end."
"Guess some races just got the luck, eh? Ain't often you see a bugbear pushin' sixty." Ruck responded with a skeptical huff.
"That's the way of life, ain't it?" Elara mused. "Take the dwarves, for example. I'll be long gone, Mara will be gone, and if she has any kids, they'll likely be gone too, all before one of those mountain-dwelling folk even thinks about kicking the bucket. And don't get me started on elves." Elara continued talking, feeling herself quickly falling into a rant, "Never met an elf I liked, save for a few druids. Those city elves? Complete pricks." Their conversation meandered along these lines as they approached the main house.
As Elara and Ruck continued their casual banter, they soon approached the main house. It was a marvel of weathered wood, its architecture more reminiscent of an old stable than a traditional home. The roof was made of slanted stone slabs designed to channel rainwater away efficiently and sprawled over a large area yet was only one story high. The main entrance was two and a half meters tall and even broader than that.
Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!
Besides the farm's main house Jr. was absorbed in his own world. The young centaur stood at an impressive one-meter eighty with the sturdy lower body of a tawny horse and a sun-kissed upper body that was just beginning to fill out with muscle. Dirty blonde hair framed his concentrated expression as he aimed his bow at an apple tree, his brows wrinkled in concentration.
Seeing an opportunity for mischief Mara quickly shushed Elara and Ruck's ongoing conversation. Elara quickly slapped Mara gently on the head and whispered, "Don't shush people like that.”
Ignoring her mother, Mara was already on the move, jumping from Ruck's shoulders, crouching low, and taking cautious, exaggeratedly lengthy steps toward Jr.
Elara watched Mara’s antics with a raised brow, turning to Ruck, bidding him farewell as he returned to his duties in the fields. Leaving the cart near the entrance, Elara stepped inside.
The interior of the house was impressively spacious. The ground was a welcoming cold, layers of hay covered the stone floor, offering both traction and insulation. The centerpiece was a large round wooden table that could easily host a feast for dozens. Two doorways were visible at the end of the room, one draped with long leaves fluttering gently, offering a semblance of privacy while allowing the air to circulate.
A delicious blend of scents and sounds drifted from that direction. The savory aroma of Axe Beak meat being cooked with citrus, the hiss of oil in a pan, and a comforting, rhythmic sound of hooves on the ground flowed.
Feeling the strain of the day's journey in her legs, Elara finally allowed herself to relax. A groan of pleasure escaped her when her muscles unwound, grateful for the respite as she settled into the homely ambiance and her stomach rumbled in anticipation.
Since before dawn, mother and daughter had subsisted only on pieces of bread and some dry rations. Closing her eyes, a sense of calm washed over Elara as she laid down near the table, embracing the coolness of the ground beneath her.
While Elara lay resting, Mara approached a Jr. still deeply engrossed in his archery practice. He had already managed to skewer two apples against the tree with his arrows but still appeared unhappy with his performance, his brows furrowed in concentration. Despite Mara's lacking attempt at stealthiness, Jr. remained utterly oblivious to her existence.
Standing beside him, Mara contemplated her next move. A slap on the back or climbing onto him as she often did seemed tempting. Indecisive but eager, she finally opted for a more straightforward approach. Crouching near him, she waited for his next arrow to fly. This time his shot pierced two apples and pinned them together on the tree.
Mara pounced, her arms wrapped tightly around his torso as she shouted, "Surprise!". His lower half kicked and jumped, sending clumps of dirt flying into the air.
Mara clung tenaciously to Jr.'s torso like he was a wild bull as his jumps lifted her off the ground. It took a few moments for Jr.'s mind to register the young orc latching to him like a leech, but it was enough to send Mara into hysterical laughter when her feet finally touched the ground again.
"You did it!" Mara exclaimed with triumphant glee. Her voice, already naturally gravelly, was now hoarse from her short bursts of screaming.
"Why?!? What's the fun in scarin' folks, huh?" Jr. said in between short breaths, "But welcome back." Jr. finished, trying to regain his composure.
Mara simply shrugged in response to Jr.'s question, "I dunno, it's just fun to see you jump," Her gaze then shifted to the bow in Jr.'s hand. It was different from his usual one, this one had sleek black wood and a string that gleamed like steel.
Noticing the gleam in Mara's eyes, Jr. anticipated her next move. "Nu-uh, this one's mine," he said, lifting the bow out of her reach, not a hard task considering Mara’s head could only reach his chest.
"Please!" Mara's plea lacked any genuine sincerity as she jumped to grab the bow.
"Nah, not this one. But I've got one set aside fer ya. We'll get to that later, 'right?"
Undeterred, Mara grasped Jr.'s shoulders and attempted to hoist herself up, aiming to reach his bow. "I want to try yours!" she demanded.
Jr., two years Mara's senior and significantly larger due to his farm work and race, was cautious not to hurt her. As Mara clung to his torso, Jr. began to jump and shake in an effort to dislodge her. Mara's laughter rang out as she gripped his ribs tighter, bringing genuine pain to Jr., her tight hugging made his ribs creak and groan.
Jr. struggled to shake off Mara's grip, but his greater strength and movements eventually won. Mara rolled to the ground, grass clung to her body like a second skin while her face lit up with an unabated smile.
Why is it so fun to mess with him? Mara caught herself thinking.
"I'll let you have a few shots," Jr. conceded after a moment, glancing around before gesturing for Mara to follow him to a secluded spot near the trees, just out of sight. "Pops don't want no one usin' this bow. If he asks, I didn't let ya, got it?"
"I'd let Nost consume me before I'd tell a soul," Mara vowed, her excitement palpable when Jr lent her the bow. She nearly hit herself in the face in her excitement, caught by surprise by the bow's unexpected lightness. Feeling lighter than a feather in her hands.
"Now, give the strin' a good pull," Jr. urged, his face breaking into an expectant smile.
Mara felt the string, slowly pulling it back, feeling it bite into her fingers with surprising sharpness. Managing only to pull it halfway before hissing in pain and being forced to release it with a loud snap, wincing when she noticed a faint red line where the string had nearly cut into her finger.
Jr. took the bow from her, effortlessly drawing it back with his calloused hands, "So, these odd folks got lost in th' forest, right? We let 'em stay on the farm for the night. Next day, they come back with this massive, I mean HUMONGOUS, centipede. Twice as big as Pops is tall," Jr. started talking unprompted, eager to share a story.
Jr. was visibly vibrating with excitement. "Me, bein' as curious as an Axe Beak near a fire, just had to ask 'em where they found such a thing. We don't often see them big insects 'round here…" He continued his story, words spilling out in an eager rush.
Mara listened intently, her eyes and ears wide open. The bow was now completely forgotten as the thrill of hearing about adventures captivated her far more than any physical object.
****
Grease trickled down Elara's cheeks as she savored a hearty bite of Axe Beak meat, fried to a golden crisp with a flour coating. She held the steaming piece in her hand, her hunger driving her to practically inhale it and reach for another, the mound of food in front of her quickly disappearing.
The leafy doorway parted as Elara ate.
Towering at over two meters forty, Podkus was a giant even among centaurs, who typically stood close to two meters to two meters ten. His hair was a mix of pepper and salt, predominantly the latter, and his muscular upper body was marked with an array of scars, some were mere nicks, while others looked like deep tooth marks. Podkus's lower equine body resembled aged, weathered mahogany, and bore its own share of scars, perhaps even more than his human half.
Podkus confidently strode towards the table, expertly balancing dozens of plates of food in his hands. After a few trips, he returned carrying two barrels, one emanating the unmistakable smoky aroma of Podkus Pour.
"Not holding back, are we?" Elara remarked, speaking through a mouthful of hot oil, letting it drip down her chin.
"Don't get too excited. It's fer a birthday celebration of one o' the families. They've been workin' and helpin' me out since I first set up this place," Podkus replied, his voice a soothing, deep timbre that was pleasant to listen to.
Like I'll believe that. I bet that you were just eager to open that barrel. Elara assumed when she saw that the barrel looked old, positively ancient.
Podkus sat near Elara, his equine lower body and taller upper frame making him appear even more imposing when lounging near her.
"I really missed this place," Elara said, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.
"I'd never deny housin' fer you here."
"I know, but I don't want to feel like I'm taking advantage of your kindness," Elara replied, her voice tinged with concern.
Podkus responded with a deep, hearty laugh. “If anythin', I'd be the one benefitin'. Doubt you even remember what it's like to work in them fields."
Elara shared Podkus' laughter. "You're right. How could I remember something I never did?"
"Right… Your father was a slacker, and your mom, well, she had a brick for brains, always swingin' that big slab of stone she called a sword."
"Hey, Mom never called that a sword. It just happened to be shaped like one." A smirk played on Elara's lips, And it had a name, you know."
"And what was it?" Podkus inquired with a chuckle.
"It was Aka'Magosh," Elara replied with pride.
Podkus smirked. "If my orcish ain't failed me, that means 'Hi', don't it?"
Elara nodded, grinning. "It was very good at greeting people and saying goodbye to them too."
Podkus shook his head. "I'm just glad you turned out nothin' like 'em. Otherwise, I doubt you'd have gotten very far," Podkus mused. "Your father's legendary talent for sleepin' through four moons straight, combined with your mother's knack for startin' a fight with a rock."
"She'd win that fight though," Elara pointed out with a smirk.
"Sure, after headbuttin' it to pieces," Podkus chuckled.
Elara laughed, nodding in agreement. "Yeah. She tried to teach me that move once. Nearly cracked my skull open tryin' it. Had to run to a druid to patch me up." To emphasize her point, she knocked on her head a few times.
The conversation continued with more shared stories and laughter, the atmosphere light as Podkus finished preparing the table for the feast. Amidst the reminiscing, Elara's expression turned reflective. "I really do miss them," she said softly.
"They were good folks, a bit headstrong, but with hearts in the right place," Podkus said with a nostalgic look.
Elara stared at her greasy hands, watching as the hot oil traveled down and made its course to the ground. "It was all my fault…" The words left her mouth like a cursed script, bringing with them all the pain of old memories.
"It wasn't yer fault. They chose them missions."
The oil seemed to change, becoming viscous as it dripped from the piece of meat on her hand, dripping from under her nails and taking a crimson hue. "No… It was all because of me. We were just supposed to restock here. If I hadn't..." The corners of Elara's eyes started to redden.
Curse that beast with words sweeter than anything I ever ate. And curse me for falling for such an obvious bait; I’m older than the man but still fell to his words like a Moorbounder to a Fey Drake. Her spiraling thoughts were cut off by the sudden thunderous sound of Podkus's fist striking the table.
"This ain't the time fer guilt," he declared firmly. "I know they were yer family, and it hurts. I grew up in the great plains; I understand loss, I do."
"You don't get it! They wouldn't have even known about that quest if I hadn't slept with him!" Elara's voice raised a pitch, and her fist met the table without the same restraint as Podkus's, sending hairline cracks along its length.
Podkus leaned down, placing his hands on her shoulders, "Listen, I've known yer moms longer than you've been alive. If it weren't for this, they'd have found some other risky path. That's just who they were."
Tears welled in Elara's eyes. "So, they were just destined to die?"
"No," Podkus replied softly, "what I'm sayin' is, they lived true to themselves, always hearin' Sefeteris's call. They embraced their path wholeheartedly."
Podkus was right. She knew that. Always there to witness how close to death they were willing to venture, venturing alongside them and taking the same risks, but his words still felt wrong. "Sorry for spoiling the mood, and the table," Elara murmured.
"I'm not just yer family friend, Elara. I'm yer friend," Podkus said, his voice growing sentimental. "I ain't got much time left in this world. I'm the oldest centaur I know. The oldest elder in the plains didn't make it past sixty. Life there ain't kind to us when we start to weaken." He paused, recollecting, "If it weren't for her, I would've stayed in the plains…"
Wiping her tears, Elara looked at Podkus in a new light, "I've been a poor friend. I never asked — who's Jr.'s mother?" It was a simple question, yet something that she never thought to ask.
"An elf," Podkus responded, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. "She took my heart in an ogre's embrace. After more than two decades, she up and left one night leavin’ Jr. near his bed. Said all our time together was just a wee fling to 'er. Never had the guts to face the plains again. Elves… They are…"
"Pricks," Elara picked up a piece of food, lifting it towards Podkus in a toast. "Elves are pricks."