“Morning,” he muttered, not pausing in his work.
Was he angry?
Calculating?
Setting a trap for me?
I gathered my legs under me and slid to the very edge of the chair, ready to run at the slightest sign of danger. Actually, I should’ve been running already, but something held me in place.
It was exhaustion, I realized. I was tired of running. For once, I just wished to stay put and see where it’d take me. Especially since the orc didn’t seem to be eager to use that massive ax against me.
He tossed two pieces of wood into the fire under the grill with a copper tea kettle on it, then gave me a glance from under a raised eyebrow.
“I know you can talk,” he said. “You even know when to say ‘thank you.’ How about a ‘good morning’ now?”
I cleared my throat, gripping the edge of the chair so hard my fingers ached.
“Good morning,” I rasped, my voice hoarse from sleep.
He gave me a satisfied grunt in response before splitting another thick log first in two pieces, then in four.
Despite the chill in the early morning air, he had no shirt on, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his bulky muscles moving under his forest-green skin. I didn’t know if all bog orcs werebuilt like him, but his physique fascinated me. It was like seeing a massive green rock golem come to life and suddenly being able to hunt, chop wood, and cook the most wonderful food.
“Oh, and thank you for dinner,” I added, just in case he had left the food in the pot on the grill on purpose, for me.
“Hm.” He grunted again, moving his massive shoulders back and stretching his neck.
He seemed unsure about how to receive my gratitude or even whether to admit that he had fed me.
“How many of you are in the Wetlands?” he asked unexpectedly.
“Of whom?” I blinked, confused.
“Of the apemen like you. Where is the rest of your tribe or pack or whatever you call it? And don’t lie to me. I can’t stand lies and people who tell them. Do you have a family?”
“No.” I shook my head.
That was true, both my parents were dead. Even when they were alive, it hardly felt like I had a family. My parents had basically sold me. They traded the status of my birth and my name for piles of gold from my late husband to maintain their lavish lifestyle. I never saw them again after the wedding, not until their funerals years later.
“No family,” I said firmly.
He dropped the ax with force, leaving its toe embedded in the chopping block, then rested a hand on its handle that reached up to his waist. Dressed only in light linen pants, with his wide, hairy chest on display and his brawny arms bulging with muscles, he presented a truly fascinating picture that captivated my imagination. My fingers itched to sketch him in this pose.
The orc stared at me. The scar on the right side of his face pulled his eyelid down, making it look like he was squinting in suspicion.
“So, are you lost then?” he asked.
I felt lost in every sense of that word. I had only a vague idea of where in the Wetlands I was right now. I wouldn’t find my way out of the forest or back to Reizon’s caravan even if I wanted to return to that man, which I did not.
But I also felt lost in a broader sense too. I had no goal in life, no plan. I ran away from the hurt and abuse that would’ve become my future had I stayed. But so far, my freedom had only brought me fear, hunger, and uncertainty.
“Yes,” I replied simply.
“Did your folks leave without you?” A note of compassion softened his voice, and my lonely heart soaked it up.
Sadly, Reizon would never leave me alone for as long as he lived, just as he would never abandon his ambitions. If he was still alive, which I didn’t know for certain, he’d be looking for me. But I couldn’t tell the orc the truth, not when Reizon might be raking the Wetlands with a fine-tooth comb in search of me.
I nodded silently in reply to the orc’s question, as if not speaking the words out loud made it less of a lie.
