“Well, I give you my permission to court me then,” she said proudly as if granting me a knighthood in a king’s court.
Happiness made me giddy. Overwhelmed by the emotion, I grabbed her in my arms and spun her around right there on the bank of the creek with the limp muskrat dangling by its tail in her hand.
It was extremely hard to leave Khala the next morning. Worry gnawed at my insides. I spent the first half of my journey trying to reassure myself by recalling every proof of how capable she was.
Khala had been happy going hunting with me every day. She’d learned new skills with enthusiasm, aptitude, and commendable speed. The muskrat had been fast, but she proved to be faster.
She had spent weeks in the woods alone before she even met me. Sure, she had been starving and miserable, but she had survived. And now, she had more resources than ever. She had enough food to last her for many days. Even if she lost all of it somehow, she’d learned how to procure food in the Wetlands.
During our hunting trips, I’d shown her many edible plants. Lots of mushrooms grew in the forest this time of year. She could hunt and fish. She knew how to use an ax, a bow, and a hunting knife I’d given her with a blade so long, it was almost like a sword for her.
I wasn’t planning to stay at the keep for long. I’d just drop the meat off, have a quick rest, and come right back to her, because there was no other place I’d rather be.
My worry eased somewhat, but my thoughts never left her. During the second half of my trek to the keep, I fantasized about Khala coming home with me. I couldn’t wait to tell everyone about her. I was sure my folks would love her. She was kind, funny, resilient, and real—everything my people appreciated in a person.
I hoped she’d like our keep and its inhabitants too. I loved parties and family gatherings with all their laughter, dancing, and great food. I wondered if Khala would love that too. As quiet and reserved as she often acted, I hoped she’d grow accustomed to the noise of the busy keep. But if she ever felt overwhelmed, my big, sturdy house provided a great refuge from the noise of the crowd.
Maybe I could turn a part of the house into a workshop for her? I could add a forge with a roof and a workbench, so that she’d have plenty of space to work on all the fun things she liked to create.
Daydreaming about my future with Khala made my long trip feel shorter. The weather was nice. I loved this time of the year. The autumn air was still pleasantly warm during the day. The clear sky remained more clear than cloudy, but the leaves on the trees had already turned the vivid colors of the fall.
I was in excellent spirits when I reached the wall of the keep and…stopped in my tracks in shock. A long spear rose from the ground by the open gate to the keep. A standard with a crest I’d never seen before blew in the evening breeze at the end of the spear.
It was highly unusual to leave the gate wide open like that. We didn’t fear many creatures in the Wetlands. But we didn’t invite just anyone to wander into our domain, either.
Instinctively, I stepped behind the nearest tree, staying out of sight while looking around.
Leaning to the left, I spotted a tent, then another one, then another… Someone set a whole fucking camp just to the left of the keep, and it stretched as long as the eye could see, with the tents peeking from behind every bush and tree.
Had the keep fallen to an enemy?
The tents didn’t belong to any other clans in the Wetlands. When bog orcs traveled, we made shelters from hides and animal skins. These were made from fancy colorful canvas. I also spotted a few painted caravans and horses in the distance.
It wasn’t easy to travel across the Wetlands on horseback. It must’ve been challenging to bring this huge caravan with horses and wagons all the way to the keep.
These must be the humans that Agor told me about on my last visit. The army from the Avilet Kingdom that came to arrest Khala. If so, they’d better get the fuck out of here soon.
Walking over to the camp, I spotted a group of orcs in front of a large round tent with the same crest on the flag over it like the one on the spear by the gate.
“Oh hi, Grat!” The voice made me jump.
An orc walked to me from around the closest tent.
“Prug,” I exhaled in relief and waved him over. “What’s going on?”
He shrugged. “I went to take a piss.”
“That’s not what I mean,” I growled in frustration. “What are these humans doing here? And why is Agor talking to them?” I gestured at our High Chief standing with the group of orcs by the big round tent.
“Oh, I forgot you were gone for a while.” Prug scratched the back of his head. “They came yesterday, put up their tents, and said they’re looking for someone or something? I don’t really know.”
“What’s Agor doing, talking to them?” I asked with a snarl.
Agor turned around, probably looking for Prug. He spotted us both and waved.
“Grat!” He gestured for me to come closer.
Prug gestured in Agor’s direction. “I guess you can go and ask him yourself.”
