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After the visit with Doren and Cale, Kirtok's work returned to normal as the weeks began to crawl by. Weeks eventually became months, and soon Kirtok was beginning to wonder if his replacement was ever going to show up. Even after reminders that she was looking, Elsa never seemed to bring in any prospective replacements. The job was taking far longer than he thought it would, and it was still necessary to train his replacement to be sure he was ready to take the reins himself.

It was becoming clear that she didn't want to replace him, which under normal circumstances, Kirtok would have been okay with. The original contract said it would be a temporary job, though, and Kirtok had plans to return to Swifthaven to begin real work again. He hadn't reported in to the Last Hill in a long time, and he was wondering whether Elsa was even sending the guild dues over as she was expected to do.

Kirtok stood behind the counter as he cleaned up the most recent spill, keeping a watchful eye on the farmers and other labourers who came into the Peaceful Pegasus at the end of a long day. Seeing them sharing their drinks and speaking jovially about their days reminded him of a time he couldn't go back to, when he and Flynn used to do the same thing.

The minotaur snorted at the memory, startling a few of the nearest patrons. It's about time I put my hoof down, Kirtok thought with a frown. After they closed up for the night and all the tenants went to bed, he would talk to Elsa.

In a couple hours, the bar had closed down and everyone milling about eventually either left or stumbled upstairs to bed. Kirtok sat at the bar with a pint of mead, swirling it about in his mouth before swallowing the sweet, honey-like drink. He'd finished helping with the cleanup, and now all Elsa had to do was sweep up, which was the last thing she always did. The woman was anything if not routine in her work.

She finished sweeping the dust out of the front door, then locked it back up. When she passed by the bar where Kirtok was drumming his fingers on the counter, she paused.

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

Kirtok's drumming intensified, wondering how she could be so intelligent yet so ignorant of the ogre in the room. Sure, he could be more upfront, but he knew he was bound to grow angry or annoyed. That was the last thing he wanted. He knew he was liable to terrify Elsa if he allowed his emotions to run the show.

"No," he said shortly. "We have a problem."

Elsa tensed, but did her best to relax before Kirtok could notice. A human may have missed the subtle change in her posture, but it didn't get past him.

"Your mug is empty," she stated more than asked. "I'll get you another one."

Elsa tried to scurry out of the room as quick as she could, her long ebony locks flowing behind her as she moved. She was running away from the situation, trying to distance herself from him. Kirtok knew that she didn't want to talk about it, but couldn't he have at least respected her enough to be square with him?

"Elsa," Kirtok called, his voice stern, his jaw set.

The woman stopped and slowly turned to face him, worry clear on her face.

"Why would you hire me for a temporary job if you have no intention of this being temporary?" Kirtok asked, narrowing his eyes to look at her. "Why me, specifically?"

Elsa faced him, but her eyes would not meet his. "I just haven't found a suitable replacement yet."

Kirtok rushed to correct her. "No one is coming. I'm not a fool."

"Don't be silly, I --"

"How many people have you spoken to about the job?" Kirtok asked slowly, cutting her off. He waited for her to respond, but she remained quiet. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? Mullead isn't exactly a big town, and the people here suitable to replace me are few and far between."

Kirtok waited for her to answer. He downed the last few drops of his mead before setting the mug down harder than was necessary. The sound caused Elsa to jump. He wondered if perhaps he was being too forward with her. He never used to be so confrontational, but he supposed that too much had changed between the old him and now.

"You're a smart woman, Elsa," Kirtok said when she didn't respond. "You should know better than to try to piss me off!" he slammed the counter, rattling the room with the force of the blow. He was casually aware that people might be sleeping upstairs, but he didn't care. This was going to be dealt with now, and there would be no running away. Elsa needed to understand that.

Kirtok eased off when he saw the frightened look in her eyes. "Sorry..." he muttered, looking down and away from her gaze. "Don't feed me lies and half-truths. I know folks around here aren't used to seeing Freehorn running around, but trust me when I say we don't like being misled." She gave several short, rapid nods of her head, but otherwise said nothing.

He gave her a moment to calm down before he spoke again. "So why me? What is so special about me that you've kept me around for most of the summer? Just be square with me."

After a long pause to think, Elsa finally said, "Fine. But I'm going to need a drink for this."

It only took her a minute to grab a cup of her honey mead and bring Kirtok a fresh mug. She set them down then scurried to the back room. Kirtok thought she might be trying to escape and get away from telling him anything, but she soon returned with a bowl full of shelled peanuts and a bowl of fruit.

Kirtok eyed the nuts warily, knowing that they had both finished cleaning the inn not more than a few minutes ago. He wondered why she would want to make another mess. As she sat in the stool next to him though, she began to crack one open as pieces of shell showered the counter. Kirtok shrugged mentally, figuring that if she didn't care, he wouldn't either.

"Do you remember being in Mullead just before spring?" Elsa asked casually as she reached for more peanuts, cracking each one open and arranging the nuts on the countertop.

Kirtok nodded. "I was in the infirmary for some time. You saw me?"

"Yes. You looked familiar, but I couldn't place where I'd seen you before," Elsa said. Kirtok was half expecting her to say something about him looking like another minotaur she'd seen before, but what she said next knocked him off his hooves. "After a couple days, I realized you looked like an old friend of mine, Astok Stronghand." She looked at the speechless minotaur with sad eyes. "He was your father, wasn't he?"

"He was," Kirtok said evenly. He hadn't been prepared to hear that, and for the first time in a long time, he was left without any idea what to say. She knew both his father's name and his family name without any prompting, so he knew she wasn't lying. He swirled his drink around, staring at the ripples inside as though they might reveal the meaning of life. Kirtok was expecting some kind of excuse for why she kept him around for so long, but he wasn't prepared for that.

He drank the rest of the mead and stood up from the stool to move around behind the bar and get a refill. He was grateful that Elsa didn't protest his decision.

"My family died last autumn."

"I'm... very sorry to hear that," Elsa said softly, sounding formal and without thought. He watched her eyes, and saw the sincerity in her words. There was pain there, and Kirtok wondered how close she was to his father. "I knew Astok for a long time, before he settled down with your mother. We still talked, when he had the time, but that farm kept him busy."

"Is that where you learned to take care of your garden out back?" Kirtok asked, and Elsa nodded. "Father never mentioned having non-minotaur friends, but I probably didn't listen. I guess most calves don't when they're growing up. I had to learn fast how to take care of the farm to help him, and to look after my little sister." The last words to come out of his mouth were nearly choked off by a sob. He cleared his throat, trying to hide the pain from Elsa.

"I miss them," he finally admitted out loud, taking a swig of his mead.

Kirtok fished around for the bowl of snacks, pulling out a minotaur sized handful of peanuts and crushing them all at once with a mighty squeeze of his calloused hands. The pieces of shell fell from the bottom of his hand and he sorted through them, finding the edible bits with his other hand.

"So when you saw me in town," Kirtok continued as he picked through his snack, "You wanted to hire me on? For what purpose?"

"Astok was always so proud of his parents and their farm," Elsa said. "He couldn't wait to inherit it for himself. 'Once a farmer, always a farmer' he used to say. He always planned to return to the house he was born in to begin raising a family of his own. I figured that he would pass on his ideals to his children and that they would one day get the farm when he passed or was too old to look after it himself. So when I saw you in that mercenary outfit, I felt like I had to do something to get you out of that place."

"No one asked you to help me," Kirtok said, taken aback by her suggestion. He didn't want her pity or her sympathy. "Being a mercenary pays well."

"For what purpose?" she asked.

Kirtok took another long drink from his mug and set it down with a thunk. "The province took my land back. It should have belonged to me with my father's passing, but there was some annoying technicality that caused the land to be forfeited. They couldn't find the deed to the land after the fire, and something else I couldn't remember. I was really angry about the whole thing." He frowned. "I hate those damn magisters. I need the money to get my home back."

"Would it still be your home with your family gone?" Elsa asked, the question cutting through him like a knife.

"Maybe," Kirtok said, trying to deflect the hurt that her words had caused. He never considered whether his home would still be the same without the family that should have been there to share it with. Thinking about it was painful, and it was easier to leave the hard questions unanswered, no matter how much it might hurt later.

A moment of silence hung in the room. Kirtok watched Elsa as her eyes looked at something to her side, then swung back to stare to his scar. He knew what she wanted to ask, but she couldn't seem to form the words. He knew he intimidated her, but there was no reason for her to be nervous around him. The whole point of them talking was to lay everything on the table.

Shifting in his chair, Kirtok interlocked his fingers and leaned on the counter. "Elsa," he began, "Just ask what you want to ask. I know you're curious about the scar." The minotaur's stern expression melted. "Everyone always is."

"Where did you get it?" she asked. "Does it have something to do with your family?"

"Probably," Kirtok admitted, giving a sharp huff. "The night they died, there was a large wildfire. I'd never seen one so big before. We planned to meet in the barn if one was ever headed to our land so that we could make sure everyone was okay." Kirtok paused, collecting the swirling thoughts in his head to try and put them in a coherent order.

That night had been a jumbled mess of short flashes of memories that he wished he didn't have. The only things that remained clear were the nightmares that haunted him at night. He could feel his eyes grow hot as tears formed. He tried to pay them no heed, to not let Elsa see them.

Kirtok was silent for so long, she spoke up and took a guess at where the story was leading. "Your family wasn't in the barn."

Kirtok was slow to respond, but eventually he shook his head. "They were no where to be found."

"Where were you?" Elsa asked. "Why did you survive?"

The minotaur's shoulders stiffened. Her words sounded accusatory, like she blamed him for his family's deaths. Perhaps she was. If he'd been home at the time instead of our drinking with Flynn, then perhaps... but, life for a Freehorn was too short to be spent on wondering about the what-ifs.

"I was out at a tavern, celebrating my passage into adulthood with some friends," Kirtok explained. He felt a flash of anger when he thought of those he left behind. They _were_his friends, but that had certainly changed quickly. "I saw the flames from miles away and ran to make sure they were okay. When I didn't see them in the barn..."

"You went into the house to check on them," Elsa finished for him. "Why would you do something like that?"

"I had to be sure. I already sent someone to get help," Kirtok said, recalling his pleading to get Flynn to return to town for help. "After that..." he paused, deciding not to let Elsa know the more grisly details of what happened. "I collapsed, and woke up in a shaman's house several months later. It felt like only a day to me, but everything had changed. The first thing I noticed though, was this mark on my face." Kirtok pointed to the scar.

Elsa waited a long moment before saying, "Is there anything special about it?"

Kirtok cringed. "The shaman that tended me thought so. And after recent events, I'm beginning to think he's more right than not."

Kirtok hated to admit that. The last thing he wanted was to concede that the shaman had a point. Something from that night caused him to change. His fire conjuring notwithstanding, he was far more irritable than he used to be, and he couldn't tolerate cold water well at all. He dragged his finger in circles along the countertop, idly fiddling with an oval design in the wood.

Elsa was quiet now as Kirtok remained lost in his thoughts. At some point, she had replaced his empty mug with a full one, breaking her one drink a night rule. He wondered when she had time to do that, since he hadn't noticed her moving. Kirtok was being far too introspective, and that bothered him.

He reached up and rubbed his tired eyes. Kirtok could hear his bed calling him, and his aching legs from standing behind the counter screamed for their rest. He wanted to hash this out with Elsa as quick as possible so he could go to bed knowing that they had reached some resolution or another.

"I'll make this simple, Elsa," Kirtok said, cutting to the chase. "What is your offer? What do you want from me?" It was time to deal with the problem head on. There was no need to beat around the bush any longer.

"Stay and work with me," Elsa said. Kirtok couldn't help but notice that she said "With" and not "For". "I knew your father for a long time before he settled down to have his family. He was a dear friend at one point in my life. I would like to extend that same friendship to his son, if you'll have it."

Kirtok mulled it over as he polished off the last of his mead. Her suggestion wasn't a bad one, and he struggled briefly with the idea before he settled on it.

"You want me to quit the guild and live here instead?" he asked, wondering what that would do for his plans to get his land back. Would he even need it back if he was staying in the Peaceful Pegasus? The job wasn't bad, and he liked the area. He could even scratch his itch to garden by helping Elsa out back once in a while. It wouldn't be the same though. Perhaps that's why he had such reservations about the idea.

"Do you need time to think about it?" Elsa offered.

Kirtok gave a shrug of his large shoulders. There was at least one thing he needed to do before he could decide, something that he should have done ages ago but never bothered to do. As he lay in bed later that night, thinking about the conversation that the two of them had, one set of words remained in his mind.

"I need to go home."