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CHAPTER II: The Smell of Smoke

Skies greyed over and as rain drops hit the back of their necks, Vulri and Mizara could swear ash had come down with the downpour. The half-Orc held memories of times long past at bay; the sight of columns of smoke and faded hues of orange were a trigger Mizara wanted not to remember. So, she nuzzled her head on her lover’s neck, letting her mind be filled by Vulri’s sweet susurrus—it made her feel like that scene was not the same, and that she was truly no longer that person.

“I don’t know what’s goin’ on o’er the hills, but there’s no way in the Nine Hells I’m keepin’ on this track. Yah!” Vulri exclaimed with a pull of the reins.

The contents of the wagon could very well had been thought worthless to the likes of Vulri and Mizara, but the half-Elf knew bandits found ways of justifying their actions more often than naught. While arms and rations would inject them with enough hot blood to awaken a sleeping ogre, the prospect of selling unusual wares at a steep price to nobles would surely be inspiring.

As such, they decided to make their way over Felderwin instead of through it. It would cost them time, surely, but the half-Elven mercenary had spent enough time in arduous situations to invite them warmly her way. With Mizara by her side, Vulri had become extra cautious, especially due to the way she looked up at her in times like those.

Petrichor had settled now, as the rain began to pick up; Vulri’s wood Elven ancestry relished in the way nature found her way to cover up the smell of smoke that filled Vulri’s nostrils half-an-hour before. She inhaled sharply and sighed, water tracing long lines across her tanned face. Mizara perched up, bringing the hood from her cloak over her damp hair.

“You’re going to catch a cold if you don’t cover yourself up, Vee. I didn’t bring that much medicine with us, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah. Not of’en you tell me to cover myself, though.” Vulri said grinning proudly.

“Vee. I love you very dearly, but if you get sick on this forsaken cart, I will leave you by a ditch as a lesson. Let your ranger ass help you then.”

“Fineeeee…” Vulri’s cloak was a weathered shade of green, like a poorly-kept painting of an overgrown forest. Her hood fell over her hair, both dripping wet. Mizara inspected the smile underneath. “Happy now, baby?”

“Don’t baby me, baby... You cheeky bitch.” Their laughter let no tension build—no relationship between half-Elves and half-Orcs would be complete without bantering foreplay.

They had travelled together often before settling in Zadash. Hupperdook was where they first met, first kissed and first made love. For a woman like Vulri, it had always surprised her how every time they embraced after that, it still felt the same. She knew then, it was time to settle down. Mizara’s history was something Vulri learned with time, and while the half-Orc feared Vulri would turn her back on her, she stayed. Vulri always told her that she was prouder in her honesty and resilience than Mizara could ever be of Vulri’s anything. Of course, she poked fun of Mizara’s tears shed in response, only by kissing her cheeks dry afterwards.

Vulri remembered that along the northern road lied a modest-looking inn. Sunkissed orange roof tiles, flaking white walls with dark oaken beams framing the whole building. She had never been inside with Mizara, but she remembered their service. Sufficient.

There they would rest for the night, with the cart tarp-covered and paid for out back. Vulri made sure to not mention the nature of the cargo or even point out its importance too much. Wanton ears were always perched for outsider talk, and this inn would be no different. The inside was warm and welcoming, despite The Spotted Dog’s exterior. A central fireplace was lit—its bright flames slowly baking the freshly-made loafs of bread sitting on a tray. Cast-iron sconces held repurposed torches and patrons all around spread their merriment and alcohol all over the inn’s floors.

“Where you wanna sit, Miz?” Vulri stepped aside, a barmaid ploughing through with a tray of empty mugs reeking of honey and bitter fruits.

“I uh, don’t know, somewhere quiet…er? Seems bit too busy around here.” Mizara tugged on her cloak, hiding her dress underneath.

Mizara could deal with the busy streets of Zadash easily, as she was accustomed to the sounds and people. The colours and smells made it all more interesting, and nothing about that city compared to Hupperdook. The chaos was what first drew her to it, along with following the Crowmen, a personal favourite Gnome bard band. Tight, crowded places however, were never Mizara’s favourite. They felt like vines around her neck and her ears felt they could pop at any second. Her jaw tensed and she could feel her tusks dig into her upper lip. That inn was just the same.

“Here…” Vulri grabbed her hand and slowly led her to a side room, watching her head on the overhanging beams.

The warmth from the common room lingering past the door frame, but the further in they walked, the colder it got. A few farmhands and adventurers sat sporadically across multiple tables, and yet a small table stood defiantly alone at the end of the room. Vulri and Mizara picked up their pace and soon sat on the same side, cuddling on the sturdier bench.

A barmaid made her way towards them soon. After taking their order, she crouched down by the end of the room and began to pile up a couple of logs of wood. As she lit the small twigs and dried leaves underneath, she looked to Mizara and Vulri with a smile.

“Seems strange to light fires here, y’know? With what’s goin’ on in Felderwind.”

“We saw the smoke,” Mizara replied quickly, “do you know what happened?”

“War’s comin’ closer and closer, love. That’s what happened.”

She bowed her head, her lips pushed together into a tight smile. Vulri cleared her throat and brought Mizara closer, their cloaks still damp from the rain outside. There was only so much she could do from there, and if holding her loved one close was an option, she would do that in a heartbeat.

Food came in hot but later than expected. The inn had become busier in the common room, which somewhat relaxed the half-Elf and half-Orc that managed to hide away, tucked by the corner of a side room. Honey-glazed carrots, fried dumplings and roasted vegetables, complimented by fresh bread and rice. That was the last of Vulri’s silver off her pouch—but well worth it. They devoured what was in front of them at their own pace, letting the sweetness of the carrots linger around their tongues before filling their mouths with bread. Soon, Mizara was licking her fingers clean while sighing happily. Vulri however, still took her time, while simultaneously pecking away at the remains from her lover’s plate.

Night had slowly come to rest outside, the dark veil covering the sky fully. Inside The Spotted Dog, the side room was somewhat poorly-lit by the wall sconces and the dimming fire put together by the barmaid an hour or so ago. Before Vulri could stand to fetch another round of drinks, Mizara laid her hand on her shoulder, and another on her thigh. Vulri looked around, inquisitively. Most people had gone into the common room or left, and the ones that stayed paid them no mind. As Vulri opened her mouth, Mizara squeezed between the bench and table and kneeled underneath the weathered wood surface. By then, her cloak was not only dry, but encompassing all of Vulri’s lower body.

“Uh… Miz?” Vulri’s voice was a whisper that none but Mizara could hear. She adjusted herself on her seat, before feeling the tug of the half-Orc’s hands on her breeches.

The laces were undone and slowly, the half-Elf’s breeches began being pulled slowly down to her ankles. Hands crawled up her legs, nails tracing lines up to the side of her buttocks. There, Mizara squeezed heartily while pulling her close. Vulri lost her composure and cleared her throat, a hot flush covering her red cheeks.

“Oh, my fuck.”

“Sshhh...”

Vulri felt her breath between her thighs, her kisses climbing up to the peak that she crowned with a faint moan. The half-Elf coughed again, drawing the attention of the barmaid who stepped in with an empty tray.

“You alright, love? Can I get you anything?”

“I uh, hah, uh, no, I’m good.”

“You sure? Another round of drinks perhaps? Where’s your friend? The half-Orc lady.”

“Round of drinks sounds nice, uh yeah. Oh, she went to the loo. She’ll be back in time for drinks.”

“Alright. Want me to stoke the fire for you?”

Tusks sunk into her thigh. Vulri yelped and laughed.

“Yeah! I just got a shiver down my spine. It’s gettin’ a bit chilly!”

“Right? Ugh, cold nights this side of the river, love. I’ll do that after I’m back with another round. More of the same?”

Vulri could feel her tongue parting her lips, the hot air exhaling through Mizara’s nose. Vulri looked down at her plate being taken away and nodded aggressively.

“Yup, mmhm, thank you.”

The barmaid smiled and turned on her heels, tray now filled with dirty dishes. Slowly, Mizara crept up from underneath the table with a wide, wet grin.

“You’re welcome… love,” Mizara kissed Vulri’s bright red cheek, ignoring her furrowed brow. Before she could retaliate, Mizara sucked on the half-Elf’s earlobe and whispered gently. “I want you to sit on my face tonight and I want us to be pissed drunk. Let’s worry about work tomorrow.”

Vulri growled under her breath, a smile forming on her lips. “Your wish is my fucking command.”

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