42nd of Frost, 120
True to his word, Arkash had worked all day in the cold. The sun was beginning to set on the Boydd kinship, and Arkash worked on splitting the last pile of logs he'd pulled. Swing after swing, he worked tirelessly to sever the pines in two. His back was hurting toward the end, but it was a pain he was comfortable with. He wasn't lying when he'd told Dorn that he'd been chopping wood since he was twelve; he was conditioned to the repetitive manual labor.
He even kept up with Garrel, the grizzly bear who'd been working just a couple dozen feet or so from him. They occasionally exchanged glances to check one another's progress; which indicated that he'd found a fellow competitive spirit. She was a little faster, of course. She didn't have to try as hard to move the logs into place, whereas Arkash struggled and heaved. Her presence assured that he put in his due diligence; she motivated him to try harder, to work as hard as he could.
After all, if he couldn't fulfill Corti's usual workload, then he was ultimately costing the village some of their livelihood. He'd made a deal with the kinship's tailor to chop her wood and pay for the materials of the clothes she'd promised to make him. He'd seen her work beforehand and knew it to be a worthwhile investment. With clothes of her quality, tailor-fit to him, he'd be just fine in Lorien all year-round.
They were expensive, though. Dorn and Corti alike had seen how easily he could afford such clothes and were suspicious of him as a result. He'd lied to them, claiming he was just a really good laborer, and that he'd saved a long time for the trip, but he knew Dorn didn't believe him.
It felt bad to lie to the goose, to lie to the kinship. They'd done such good things for him; how could he betray their trust? It was strange, as he'd shrugged off murder without so much as a second thought before. Why did he care what the people of the Boydd Kinship felt? Just because they were Rathor? Or because they were nice?
Ultimately, Rel finished before him in the race to chop her wood and declared so with a hefty slam of her axe. Arkash grinned a little as he met her gaze. Was she proud to have bested someone a fifth her size?
Soon after, he finished his final cut, and left the axe lodged in the scarred chopping stump as he pressed his claws to his back and stretched out the cold, worn muscles in the area with his eyes shut. The crunch of snow caught his enhanced hearing, and he looked to the source as the grizzly arrived beside him. Her shadow eclipsed him, and she stared with big brown eyes at the comparably tiny lizard.
"Hey!" She called with a huff. Her voice rang in his sensitive hearing, but no more than the chopping of wood had for the entire day. She was out of breath while she spoke, and clouds of hot air burst in condensation while she spoke from the save between her yellowed ursine fangs. "You're freakin' fast for an ice-blood!" She congratulated somewhat clumsily.
"Thanks," Arkash returned as he, in turn, caught his breath. His dranoch blood helped him to recover a little quicker, but he'd still exhausted himself. "I was.. Kinda competing with you," he admitted. She knew that, he knew that. Anyone who'd watched would have known that from the way they looked at each other.
"I figured," she nodded. He knew it. "If you weren't so little, you would'a thrashed me; fair play." He smirked a little at that and laughed a breath. "I'm Garrel, by the way, but folks call me Rel."
"Yeah, I know..." Arkash returned as he put his hands on his hips and lifted his chest to suck in deep breaths. He'd dropped body temperature to a point that his breath didn't make clouds anymore, the burn in his muscles was all that kept him going. "I'm Arkash," he returned and extended his claw.
"Yeah..." She spoke in return with a grin. "I know," With that, she took his hand with her massive bear paw and shook. His whole arm jerked in the motion. Gods alive was she strong. "Want some help piling it?" She asked with a puff, then let his arm go.
"Please," he returned with an equal huff, then stretched off his arm. While they gathered the split logs, he examined her. Her huge paws were probably his saving grace; she couldn't efficiently handle her axe; he chopped faster than she did. Then, even with his added dranoch strength, he couldn't carry the stripped trees for processing anywhere near as fast as she did. That was where he fell short: raw strength, as usual.
When they were done, she pat his back gently and nodded her approval. "You've got guts, kid. Good on ya," she spoke simply, then laughed. "Lemme know if you're ever in the mood for an arm wrestle."
He scoffed as she stepped away and called back "yeah, I'll come calling if I want a month off work!" They both knew she'd put him through the table in a heartbeat. Such was obvious when she laughed a hearty bellow to his banter.
Witht hat, he looked to his calloused hands. They were a little raw from the work; it had been a few months since he chopped wood like that, and he needed to soak his scales, but he was otherwise fine. His back would get better, stronger even. As he looked up, he saw Dorn, the goose chief of the kinship. The bird was stood upon the porch of the bathhouse, watching him. With a wave, the avian beckoned him closer, and Arkash obliged.
"Rel seems to like you," the goose spoke when he was within talking distance, and Arkash breathed a puff before he rubbed the back of his head.
"She called me small a bunch, but I didn't wanna argue with a five-hundred-pound bear," he smiled a bit as Dorn chuckled, then shook his head. "Dorn?" he asked with a frown.
"Aye? What's that look for?" The goose spoke with a tilt of his head. It was hard to gauge his expression, as the chief couldn't smile with a beak for a mouth.
"I lied to you and Corti," he started. "I was a laborer in Lorien, but I hadn't touched an ax in months before today," he explained.
"...So what's your trade? And why the big secret?" The goose watched him with a furrow to his brow.
Arkash huffed, then walked around to lean on the railing of the porch while he basked in his exhaustion. "I'm a hitter," he confessed with a pause. "A blade for hire."
Dorn tilted his head at that, then came to rest beside him. "Why didn't you just say so?" The goose too leaned on the railing while he watched the dragon. "You mean to say you're a killer? you kill for coin?" Arkash nodded his head hesitantly; the goose took such news surprisingly well. "Mercenaries make good money here, you know. The wilds are dangerous. Knights are just glorified killers, when you think about it."
The dragon's misty eyes lit up at that, and Arkash stood up straight. Those words spoke volumes to him. Did Dorn also recognize 'lawful execution' as plain murder? In his view, a government's order for death was no better than a killer's thirst for blood. "...You don't care?" He asked with a furrow to his brow.
"Of course I care, but... It's nothing to berate you for. Rathor take all walks of life; some of us are drawn to the mettle of battle and the taste of blood, others live in complete harmony at the riverside or on the unending roads. It's the nature of the purpose; we're all diverse in our goals. Naturally, some of us walk darker paths than others, but your purpose can always- Well, usually -be fulfilled by brighter means," the goose went on to explain with a series of wing gestures. "Does it feel right when you take a life? Do the stars align?"
Catherine Florent. Argent Knights. They all inspired such feelings in him when he killed them. "Sometimes..."
"....Then you have a clue on your purpose; such a thing is remarkable for a Rath so young; especially considering you've yet to undergo your ceremony." The goose bowed their head at that, then stood up straight. "It does make sense; you're a hard worker, after all... Oh, and on the subject of your work;" The goose turned to gesture to a pile of folded fur-trimmed clothes that sat upon a bench on the porch.
Arkash looked and raised his scalie brows with wide eyes. "...For me?" His clothes were done? Corti really worked that fast?
The goose nodded, then stepped toward the stairs of the porch with a stretch of his long, stalk-like legs. "Well earned and deserved; they'll treat you right in the frost... Oh, one thing!" Arkash was part-way through digging in the pile when the goose called, and their eyes met briefly. "Corti hadn't enough furs for your cloak, so it's made with feathers instead. She assures me it'll be just as warm, so you needn't worry."
Arkash nodded at that, "I'll have to thank her," he declared, then bowed his head to the chief. "Thank you so much for this, Dorn..." Without another word, the goose was on his way. He couldn't tell, but it felt like the chief smiled at him. Arkash felt the material, then and produced the long cloak of black raven feathers. It was soft, prickly in parts, but expertly-crafted all the same. Quickly, he squeezed the garment in a tight hug, then brought the pile indoors with him to change.
