“Are you going hunting again?” Quaylin sank upon a log beside Orin.
“Aye, I am.” Orin strung his bow and checked his quiver full of arrows.
“Want some company?”
“I’ll be all right. No need to come along this time.” He stood and patted Quaylin’s shoulder before heading off toward Greymist Forest.
For weeks, Quaylin had watched his brother delve further into his loneliness, and he’d had enough of it. If Orin wasn’t willing to find a wife, then Quaylin would find one for him.
Of course, he had his orders from his own wife to do so. Oh, she allowed his brother to live with them, but he could see how it wore on his wife’s nerves to have Orin underfoot. But where could he find the perfect woman for him?
He’d tried the taverns, but most of the women there weren’t the type you brought home as a wife. The marketplace’s women were generally already married or just not Orin’s type. Did his brother even have a type? Quaylin really didn’t know.
Petite, tall, pretty, plain. The various women’s faces swirled in Quaylin’s mind, but he still couldn’t locate the perfect bride for his brother after weeks of searching.
Yet, Quaylin had failed his quest and his brother. His shoulders drooped, and he bowed his head. If he sank any lower, then he would be kissing the ground. What was he going to do? How could he find someone to combat Orin’s solitary lifestyle?
With a heavy heart, he rose from the log and walked toward home. Not all quests could be fulfilled, despite his well-wishes toward his brother’s happiness.