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Torbek’s whole body ached. Not that it didn’t normally, but even after sleeping on a nice, soft bed at the Inn At The End Of The Road, he was in pain. His witchlight tanks felt like a pair of anvils strapped to each shoulderblade, pulling his already-fucked-up bones more out of place. He’d tried hunching further, nearly bent double to counterbalance them, but that just made his neck hurt. And the skin around the tubes in his arms and legs was even more red and inflamed than it usually was, pulsing hot and angry with every beat of his heart. He picked and poked absently at one of the tubes on his right arm. He could feel the pull of it even under his skin, making his stomach turn. Maybe it was infected? Not that Torbek would be surprised if it was, considering how good he was at getting horrible infections even before he had been made into this… thing.
He scratched absently at the swelling around his tubing. Maybe this would be the thing that finally did him in. A hollow sort of relief washed over him, followed by a sad, resigned kind of guilt. It would be a cruel twist of fate if he died now, after all of the suffering and torture, just as he was being reunited with his friends. He glanced ahead at them all. Frost was patiently listening to Gricko, who was talking with wild hand gestures, Hootsie trailing close by her father’s side. Gideon and Mr. Kremy had their heads together, seemingly planning, or bickering, or some combination of the two. Twig was busily digging in her acorn pouch, offering Gideon a fresh hot Jones during a break in the conversation. Torbek watched for a moment before looking down at his claws, an awfully familiar ache in his chest. Maybe they would be happier without him tagging along. They certainly seemed to be far more competent and capable than he was. Certainly faster, stronger, and smarter. A real team. The voices that persisted in the back of his mind cackled, the cacophony of jeering and mocking picking up with fervor. He curled in on himself further, scratching at his arm harder to try to distract himself from the voices.
He flinched as he felt his hollow, needle-like claws tear into the tender skin near his arm-tube, glancing down to see a trickle of blood begin to run into his fur, tinted magenta with the witchlight in his veins. He couldn’t help the immediate wash of guilt for wasting precious drops of the drug. He knew, somewhere in his heart, that Mr. Kremy would be disappointed in him for it.
Gricko glanced over before doing a double take, his eyebrows pinching. “Somefing wrong, Torbek?”
“Torbek is fiiine,” he answered, perhaps a little too quickly, covering the mess by pretending to rub his arm.
Gricko squinted, leaning in closer. “You sure? You were making a face.”
“What do you meeean? This is just Torbek’s faaace,” he protested, but it sounded weak even to his own ears.
Those eyes narrowed even further at him, suspicious. Frost was now looking at Torbek too, his sharp gaze making Torbek shrink lower.
“It’s nothiiing! Torbek is just sore like everyone eeelse.”
Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say, because Gideon and Kremy stopped in their tracks to look at him with matching frowns. Torbek began to sweat.
Gideon tilted his head. “Yer still sore, man? Even after we got a couple ‘a nights’ rest?”
“Y-yeees…?”
Kremy stepped toward Torbek, silent but decisive. Torbek scuttled back, but he was no match for the determined gatorfolk, who followed in his nervous footsteps to look up into Torbek’s face, assessing with his golden yellow eyes.
Torbek couldn’t meet his sharp stare, instead looking down and picking at his claws.
Twig gasped. “You’re bleeding!”
Gricko’s head whipped around as Torbek tried to cover the spot up again, cursing his own thoughtlessness. “T-Torbek just scratched too haaard! It was an accideeent!”
Kremy set his jaw before looking toward Gideon, his eyes softening. “This is as good of a place to stop as any. Be a dear and set up shop for the night, cher?”
“Already on it,” he answered with a wink as he set his pack near Kremy’s feet and started digging out the tents.
Torbek could feel the witchlight start to bubble in its tanks, mortified. “We don’t need to stop, Torbek is okaaay! It’s just a scraaatch!”
Gideon just grinned, ruffling Torbek’s ears as he strode past. “Don’t worry, man. We’ll get you patched up and feelin’ good as new.”
Torbek jolted at the contact, his entire system lighting up with a startling rush of warmth at the casual touch. It had been so… light. Barely anything. And yet he could feel every inch that Gideon’s hand had touched like the nerves were alive for the first time, the witchlight almost fizzing in his bloodstream.
Before he could recover, Gricko was carefully tugging on the tattered hem of Torbek’s shirt. “C’mere an’ let me look at your arm.”
Torbek opened his mouth to try another protest, but Kremy cut him off with a look, wrapped a clawed hand around Torbek’s elbow, and marched him toward a convenient stump, his tone firm. “None of that. Sit down, and let Gricko patch you up.”
“O-okaaay,” he acquiesced, distracted by the firm squeeze of Kremy’s claws and the jolt of that same strange warmth radiating in his elbow.
“That’s better. Gid and Frost will worry about setting up camp, and Twig and I are going to get a fire started for dinner.” Kremy urged him to sit, absently straightening the collar on Torbek’s ratty coat and smoothing it flat when he obeyed. “You sit here and listen to Gricko, you hear?”
Torbek flushed, trying very hard not to lean into Kremy’s gentle ministration as he nodded.
Kremy let his hands fall away with a self-assured nod. Torbek bit the inside of his cheek to keep from whining at the loss of the gentle, soothing touch. What was wrong with him?
Kremy gave Gricko a look that Torbek couldn’t decipher before turning away and rolling up his sleeves. “Good. Holler if you need anything.”
“We will!” Gricko gave an exaggerated wave before nudging his elbow into Torbek’s side, his voice pitched low. “We won’t. If we need somefing, I’ll grab Frosty, eh? Now!” Gricko clapped his hands and rubbed them together, a faint glimmer of greenish-gold magic already glittering around them. “Let’s see that cut and get you all patched back up.”
The amount of very casual touching Torbek was receiving today was making him feel strange. Jittery, almost, like he’d drank too many Hot Jones’. Or the start of a withdrawal. Instinctively, Torbek shrank down, hoping to become as invisible as he usually was to other people. “It’s just a little scraaatch...”
“And even a little scratch can turn into an infection,” Gricko countered in a chipper but firm tone before making little grabby hands. “Gimme.”
With a groan, Torbek hesitantly offered his arm, feeling a flush of embarrassment when Gricko sucked in a breath through his teeth.
“Gods, Torbek…”
“Torbek is sorry, Torbek knows Torbek smells baaad.”
“What? No, it’s just…” Gricko looked up at him, his eyebrows pinched together in concern before he looked back down, carefully trying to move the clumpy, knotted hair from around the tube. “This is pretty infected. And your fur is all matted! Doesn’t that hurt?”
“Torbek doesn’t know what you meeean, Torbek’s fur is always like this.” The skin around his tubes was usually much, much worse, but he thought that maybe he should keep that to himself.
Especially since Gricko was still staring at him, a strange look on his face. Long enough that Torbek could feel cold sweat start to prickle under his fur again.
“When was the last time you had a proper bath, Torbek? A real one, with soap and water.”
Torbek frowned. “Soap aaand water…?”
“Mate, no offense, but it’s no wonder your tubes is all infected. If you don’t wash up, anyfing goin’ into your skin like that would be a right breeding ground for all sorts of nasties.”
Torbek’s ears flattened and he hung his head, shame rushing through him.
Which, of course, Gricko caught onto right away. Small, green hands cupped Torbek’s cheeks.
Startled, Torbek’s head snapped up, blinking as the jittery feeling rushed back like a wave, though it was tempered by the sad look on his friend’s face.
“I’m sorry. That came out sounding mean. I know things have been… bad since we last saw you.” Gricko’s eyes went even more distant for a moment before he shook his head and offered a tentative grin, thumbing over Torbek’s cheekbone. “All’s I mean is that we’re gonna need to clean you up a bit so I can heal you properly. Sound good?”
Torbek couldn’t stop himself. He leaned into Gricko’s hands, a strange, low rumbling noise coming from his chest as he nodded, eyes slipping closed at the comforting feeling.
“I don’t fink I’ve ever heard you purr, Torbek.”
Torbek’s eyes fluttered open, looking at Gricko’s awed expression. He could feel the flush under his fur, embarrassed, but he couldn’t stop the low rumbling from growing louder as Gricko began to gently stroke his cheeks, pressing harder into Gricko’s small, capable hands. He almost didn’t notice when Frost came over with a pail of water and something wrapped in a small piece of cloth, but the way he paused as he approached made Torbek’s purring falter.
“I didn’t know you could purr,” Frost murmured, raising an eyebrow.
Gricko turned to him, grinning like he’d won a prize when Torbek’s purrs resumed, though a little more hesitant. “Isn’t it nice?”
“It’s… yes, it’s pleasant.” Frost’s keen eyes flicked to Torbek, who fought against the instinct to shy away from such a direct stare. “I overheard that we need to clean you a bit before Gricko can heal you. Would it be alright if I helped?”
Torbek really did shrink this time, his purring grinding to a stop. “Torbek doesn’t want to bother you, Frooost.”
Frost knelt beside Gricko, dipping the cloth into the water and scrubbing it around the lump until it began to foam and froth. “It’s no bother. Gideon is more than proficient in putting the rest of the camp together, and Gricko doesn’t have enough patience to work on matted fur.”
Gricko opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but hesitated when Frost leveled a very pointed look at him.
“To be fair–”
“Fairness has nothing to do with it.”
“It was one time, Frosty! And I apologized!”
Frost’s ear gave an annoyed flick as he pressed the small lump–soap, Torbek recognized it now–into Gricko’s gesticulating hand. “You did.”
He turned his sad, puppy-dog eyes on Frost. “We only had to shave a little of your fur, though…”
“We wouldn’t have had to shave any if you had exercised an additional two minutes of patience.” Despite the mild irritation in his tone, Frost’s paw gently cupped Torbek’s elbow and guided his wounded arm closer, inspecting the area with a sharp eye. Torbek squirmed a bit, anxiety starting to spike in his chest at all of this attention and touching. It made him feel off-kilter. He wanted to bask in it just as much as he wanted to shy far, far away from it. Frost didn’t seem to pay any mind to his wriggling, looking back at Gricko. “I think the best course of action is to flush the area with some of the water first, then clean the infected parts and heal them before we try to tackle his fur. Otherwise, I fear any extra combing or otherwise manipulating the mats could cause more trauma.”
Gricko nodded, hefting the bucket. “Ready!”
Frost extended Torbek’s arm, one paw on his wrist and the other on his elbow, holding firm as Gricko poured clean water over the mark. Torbek couldn’t stop the bitten-off curse in Goblin, his arm very nearly jerking out Frost’s paws. The cold water felt like hundreds of iron-stingered wasps were jabbing into his skin, piercing over and over again. Instinctively, he pulled again, trying to get away, but Frost held firm. A low whine began to fill Torbek’s ears, blurry memories beginning to boil over. He could almost feel the bite of the restraints that kept him strapped to the metal table, the sickening smell of blood, piss, and witchlight thick in his nose as the razor sharp scalpel bit back in, scraping with agonizing precision along the bone of his shoulder blade, the muscles in his legs and arms still tender from the tube now embedded deep into his body–
A squeeze to his elbow made him flinch back, toppling over backward off the stump in his haste to get away and landing squarely on one of his witchlight canisters, wheezing as white-hot pain lanced through his entire nervous system like a lightning strike. He crumpled onto his side, dark spots mottling his vision as two forms rushed close, one small and one tall, and both vaguely greenish.
“Torbek!”
“I-I didn’t mean to startle him so badly–”
Relief rushed through Torbek, then horrified embarrassment, and he could feel tears welling in his eyes. Gricko and Frost. It had just been them. And Torbek had overreacted. Again. He could have lost control, let the monster out that had killed Adgon. What could he have done to his friends? The tears spilled over, and Torbek quickly curled up as tight as he could and scrubbed his face to get rid of them, choking back a traitorous sob.
“Torbek?” Gricko’s voice was soft, hesitant, like he was approaching a wild animal.
Torbek didn’t dare reply, lest the cracking dam inside him shatter into a million pieces. Weak, the Other’s voice cackled, viciously gleeful, and Torbek couldn’t quite bite off the whimper before it slipped out. Torbek knew he couldn’t deny it. The Other was right. He curled impossibly tighter. Hopefully he would make himself small enough to just disappear into the loamy soil where he couldn’t be a burden to his friends. His tubes kinked and twisted in on themselves, sending a dull ache through every inch of his body. He deserved it for being so weak, so useless.
A soft rustling and a quiet groan interrupted Torbek’s spiral. Closer. Right in front of him, close to his current eye level. His ear flicked nervously.
“Can you give me a sign if you can hear me, mate? A little wave or somefing?”
Mechanically, he managed to lift one of his hands and give Gricko a weak wave.
“Good to have you back, Big T.” Torbek felt a soft ping of warmth in his chest. Why did that bring the lump back into his throat? “Can I touch you? ‘Fumbs up if that’s okay, down if it’s not.”
A slow, tentative thumbs up.
Something brushed the long, hollow claw of Torbek’s thumb, and he stiffened, heart racing. But Gricko didn’t so much as flinch away, his small, steady hand carefully trailing down the claw and cradling Torbek’s trembling fist. Torbek hadn’t even realized he was shaking.
Gricko gently pulled their joined hands toward him, his thumb stroking idly, sending more of that strange, staticky heat up Torbek’s arm. “I’m here. And Frosty’s right here, too.” Torbek could sense more than hear when Frost sat down next to Gricko, the slight disturbance in the air barely enough to ruffle Torbek’s fur, and yet it was like the Other could sense the most minute shifts around their shared body when he wanted to.
“I apologize for startling you,” Frost murmured. Torbek could hear the anxious swishing of his tail against the thick grass. “I thought perhaps physical reassurance would help, but I fear I miscalculated.”
Torbek opened his mouth but found he couldn’t find the right words. How could he explain the inferno of fear that being held in place had triggered? The half-reformed memory of being tortured swam in and out of focus behind his eyelids. How could he describe the instinctive need to flee had less to do with Frost and more to do with the thing that now shared space in Torbek’s fucked-up body? His mind wasn’t even safe. The horrifying knowledge that he could shred any of them to ribbons without being in control of his own limbs, while his consciousness watched it like a Major Image? A shudder ran through him, despair starting to sink hooks into his soul and drag him under.
Soft pawfalls and a quiet trilling hoot were the only warning Torbek got before Hootsie wedged her head under his arms and curled up against him, her big, sweet eyes looking up at him. Maybe he was imagining the concern in her face, but he stroked her soft feathers, trying to reassure her that he was all right.
“Aww, Hootsie! Such a sweetheart, helpin’ out Uncle Torbek,” Gricko cooed, ruffling her ears until she snapped her beak at him, “Okay, okay. Maybe we can help him sit up, yeah? Give you a better spot to sit?” Small hands curled under Torbek’s elbow, holding steady despite Torbek’s flinch as he was guided back upright. “C’mon, Unky Torbek, up ya come, there’s a good lad. Just cross your legs, and Hootsie will sit right there and keep you cozy.”
Hootsie did just that, dutifully making her nest in his lap as soon as he was sitting, curling up into a tight ball and nuzzling under Torbek’s claws to beg for more pets. Hesitant, he stroked her downy head, trying to be very careful not to nick her by accident. She rumbled happily in her chest, and Torbek could feel the tightness in his shoulders start to relax, a little bit of the fear starting to subside. Hootsie was always so sweet to him. She wouldn’t give him cuddles like this if he was a horrible, irredeemable monster, would she? If he frightened her in some intrinsic way because he was inherently bad and awful, she would shy away or try to hurt him, right? He buried his face in her feathers and breathed deep, letting himself be soothed by the smell of fresh soil and damp fur and feathers as she hooted at him and butted her head into his.
Gricko stroked Torbek’s arm, careful not to pull on the mats or the tender tubes. “Better?”
Torbek dared to peek at Gricko and Frost. They were both watching him carefully, though Gricko had an encouraging smile plastered on his face. Frost wasn’t hiding as well. His ears were half-pinned and tail was still moving with nervous energy, golden eyes shadowed by his knit brow.
“Y-yeah… Torbek is sorry Torbek scared youuu,” he mumbled, shrinking down around Hootsie.
Frost shook his head. “No need to apologize. I should have been more considerate.” He offered his paw pads-up, careful not to touch. “May I finish tending your wounds? We don’t have to de-mat you right now, if you’re not comfortable, but I would like to at least get you clean and bandaged.”
Tentative, Torbek extended his hand, flushing when he noticed he was still trembling. The warmth of Frost’s paw curled loosely around his wrist, and Torbek couldn’t help but shiver, that now-familiar fizzling feeling in his veins at the casual touch.
“I’m going to clean up the area with this cloth.” Frost lifted the soapy rag in his free paw. “Then we’ll get you bandaged up.”
“Maybe Twig can help,” Gricko suggested, sitting right beside Torbek to scratch under Hootsie’s chin, “ ‘M sure the Inn would have warmer water. The rivers here are probably cold. And the Inn has fireplaces and way less horrible environmental curses.” Gricko gasped. “Oh my gods… The water here is probably what’s causing us to have all of these weird temporary mind curses happen to us! We don’t know how fey magic works, after all, and what if it’s just floatin’ around on the air and in the water and we keep getting cursed because we don’t have immunities…!”
Frost rolled his eyes but Torbek could see the slight smile on his face as he listened while he carefully cleaned up the magenta blood and dirt from Torbek’s arm. Occasionally Frost would ask questions that would have the druid spiraling off on a new tangent, arms gesticulating wildly as he theorized. It was… nice. Familiar. Torbek winced when Frost had to gently scrub some debris out of his scratches, but Hootsie kept him distracted, nuzzling into him and begging for more pets with soft snaps of her beak. He scratched behind her neck fluff while Frost wrapped his arm, tying a neat knot and tucking in the loose ends.
“There. That should keep it clean while you heal.” Frost gave a small nod of approval before patting Torbek’s hand, oblivious to the shivery sparks skating up Torbek’s arms. “We’ll change the bandages at regular intervals, but it should be okay until the morning.”
“Thank yooou,” Torbek mumbled, not ready to pull away from the casual affection.
“Supper’s on, boys,” Kremy called, tapping his favorite wooden spoon twice on the boiling pot, “Carlfish étouffée, and some red beans and rice.”
Gideon grinned, stooping to gather up everyone’s bowls. “Now yer just spoilin’ us, Krem.”
Kremy pointed the spoon at him, though his serious expression was cut by the slight curl of his mouth. “Don’t ever say I never did nothin’ for you, Gideon Coal.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Kremy’s haughty look softened as Gideon handed him the bowls, filling the first one and passing it back to Gideon. “Go give this one to Torbek, please, cher.”
Torbek blinked as Gideon brought over the bowl and passed it to him with a wink. “Don’t let Hootsie get into that. I’d reckon it’s too spicy for her.” He ruffled Torbek’s fur before walking back to wrap his arm around Kremy’s waist, murmuring something into his ear that had the gatorfolk halfheartedly shoving Gideon away, despite both of their smiles.
“Oi, lovebirds, get a room!”
Without even looking, Kremy flicked his fingers. “Gricko, would you kindly go stick your head in a bucket?”
Alarmed, Frost jumped up as the spell took hold, snatching up the bucket they had just used to clean Torbek’s arm. “No, no, Gricko, not this bucket–!”
Chaos all around him, Torbek watched for a moment as Gricko attempted to scale Frost’s robes as Gideon and Kremy cackled in delight in the background. He smiled a little to himself as he hugged Hootsie close with his free arm, the other warmed by the delicious-smelling food Kremy had made, a kernel of hope taking root in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay in the end. Maybe this is exactly where he belonged.