Garrett's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Eleven years later, Garrett stood in the doorway of the cottage he grew up in. His pack hung heavy on one shoulder. Beau waited by the front gate, tail flicking, a crate of glass bottles balanced on his hip. Today they would ride to the city and sign their names in the Adventurers' Guild ledger. Garrett had wanted to be a hero since he was seven. Now he was eighteen, and the door out was open. His father Reuben stood at the stove, though there was no reason to. Reuben was a huge orc, taller than Garrett, with a single small braid in his long black hair and scars across his face. He was frying eggs nobody had asked for. His hands needed something to do. That was how Reuben had always handled a hard day. "Sit," Reuben said. "You eat before you go." Garrett sat. He ate. He did not trust his own voice yet. Jack came in from the study, sleeves rolled, ink on two fingers. He was slight and human next to the two orcs, but the room turned toward him when he spoke. He set a folded paper by Garrett's plate. "A letter," Jack said. "For the guild clerk. She knew me at university. She won't turn you away for your face." He paused. "Some of them will try." Garrett looked at the paper. His throat went tight. "They think I'm dangerous," he said. "Before I even talk." "You're not dangerous," Reuben said. He set down the pan. "You're strong. Those aren't the same. You decide which one you are, every time." Garrett gripped the table. The wood creaked under his fingers. He made himself let go. He thought of the man whose arm he had broken, the way he kept swinging after the man was down. He had promised himself never again. A hero didn't do that. Beau leaned in the doorway. "He's the least dangerous person I know," he said. "Once he carried a wounded fox two miles because it looked sad. We were late to everything. Worth it, though." He grinned. "Come on, big guy. The road's not getting shorter." Garrett stood. Reuben crossed the kitchen and pulled him into a hug that lifted him half off the floor. It had been a long time since anyone had made Garrett feel small in a good way. "Come back," Reuben said into his shoulder. One flat sentence. "That's all I want." Jack squeezed Garrett's arm. "Write. Even when it's boring." Garrett walked out through the flower garden he had picked from as a boy. He did not look back until the gate. His fathers stood on the step, small now against the ivy. He raised one big hand. Then he turned and followed Beau down the lane. By noon they reached the guild hall. Garrett handed the clerk Jack's letter. She read it, glanced at his tusks, and slid the ledger across the counter. Garrett signed his name. He was an adventurer now. He was also two days' walk from anyone who had ever loved him.