Garrett's Arc

Chapter 3 of 2

Three weeks into guild life, Garrett still had no heroic deed to his name. The market town was loud and bright, packed with timber houses and crooked roofs. Garrett walked its streets each morning looking for someone to help. Beau came along, a satchel of bottles clinking on his hip. "Today's the day," Beau said. "I can feel it. My tail is tingling. That's a good sign, probably." Garrett spotted an old woman struggling with a heavy crate. He crossed the street fast to lift it for her. She looked up, saw his tusks, and screamed. The crate hit the ground. Apples rolled everywhere. "Get away from me, beast!" she cried. People turned to stare. Garrett stepped back with his hands raised. He said nothing. He never got to say anything. It happened again at the well. A man's bucket rope snapped. Garrett reached to catch it. The man flinched so hard he fell backward into the mud. "Don't touch me," he spat. Garrett walked away with his fists tight. He made himself open them, one finger at a time, the way Reuben had taught him. Strong, not dangerous. He kept saying it in his head. "They don't even give me a chance," Garrett said. He sat on a low wall and put his head in his hands. "Maybe heroes aren't supposed to look like me." His voice cracked on the last word. Beau sat beside him. He did not crack a joke. "Hey. Look at me." Garrett looked. "When I was six, everybody saw your tusks and ran. I saw the flowers you were holding. I was right about you then. I'm right now." He tapped Garrett's chest. "The problem isn't your face. It's that you keep walking up to strangers. Strangers get scared. Let the deed come to you." Garrett didn't understand at first. Then screaming started near the town gate. Not a scared scream. A real one. A cart horse had bolted, dragging a broken cart straight toward a child frozen in the road. Grown men jumped clear. Nobody moved toward the child. Garrett didn't think. He ran. He caught the child under both arms and turned his back to the cart. The corner slammed into his shoulder. Wood cracked. Garrett held on and did not fall. The horse thundered past. The street went quiet. The child's mother reached them, shaking. She looked at Garrett's tusks. This time she did not scream. She grabbed his hand in both of hers. "You saved her," she whispered. "You saved my girl." People gathered close instead of backing away. Someone clapped his good shoulder. Garrett stood in the middle of the crowd, out of breath, a child safe in his arms. Beau grinned up at him. "Told you. It came to you." Garrett laughed, wet-eyed. He had his first heroic deed. But his shoulder was already swelling dark, and blood ran down his arm.