My body moves before my brain catches up. I'm on my feet, running along the riverbank, boots splashing through the shallows because speed matters more than stealth now. Behind me, something crashes through the brush. Something big.
The canyon narrows ahead and I pour everything I have left into reaching it, legs burning, lungs screaming, the wound in my side tearing open fresh. I feel hot blood soaking through the tunic but I don't stop, can't stop, because the thing behind me is gaining and I can hear its breath now, wet and rasping.
I don't make it to the narrows.
My legs simply stop working. One moment I'm running and the next I'm falling, body giving out all at once like puppet strings cut. I hit the ground and roll, coming to rest half in thewater, staring up at the strip of sky visible between the canyon walls.
The stars blur. Multiply. Fade.
This is it then.
I think of my mother, dead before I turned seven. Wonder if she's waiting somewhere, or if death is just nothing. The stone under my back feels almost comfortable now, fever finally winning the fight for my attention. My eyes drift closed.
The hunting cry sounds again, much closer, but I can't make myself care.
Voices pull me back from the edge—deep, rough, speaking in a language I don't know. My eyelids weigh a thousand pounds but I force them open anyway, some animal part of my brain demanding I see what's about to kill me.
Firelight flickers orange against the canyon walls. Torches, carried by figures that tower against the night sky. Broad shoulders, massive builds, skin that looks dark even in the dim light. As my vision swims in and out of focus, I catch details: leather armor studded with bone, thick braids, weapons that gleam like they're freshly sharpened.
Orcs.
Fear should flood my system. Should give me enough adrenaline to run again. But my body's done, finished, and all I can do is watch as they approach. One breaks away from the group, moving faster than something that size should be able to move.
The world tilts as I'm lifted, massive hands sliding under my shoulders and knees with surprising gentleness. I'm cradled against a chest broad enough that my whole body fits against it, held like I weigh nothing. The motion makes my head swim and I nearly black out again, clinging to consciousness by my fingernails.
Through the haze of fever, I force my eyes to focus on the face above me.
Amber eyes stare back, bright even in the darkness, set in features that are sharp and foreign. High cheekbones, a strong jaw, full lips pulled into something that might be concern. The gaze pins me in place, intense enough that I feel it even through the layers of delirium.
He's saying something, words in a rough tone I can't make out, but the tone sounds almost... worried?
Doesn't matter. Can't matter. I'm already slipping again, darkness pulling me under in waves. The last thing I register is warmth—his body heat soaking into mine, the firelight washing everything in gold, those amber eyes watching me like I'm something fragile that might shatter.
Then nothing.
2
RAKK
The canyon walls close in tighter than they should as I swing down from my equu, muscles stiff from two days of border patrol. The beast snorts and stamps, sensing my mood the way animals do—raw and sharp-edged like broken glass.
"Take him to the stables." I hand the reins to one of the younger warriors without looking at his face. "Make sure he gets double grain tonight."
"Yes, Rakk."
The title grates. Not my name—the weight behind it. Son of the Chieftain. Future leader. Responsibilities that wrap around my throat like hands squeezing just tight enough to make breathing difficult.
The training grounds sprawl to my right, empty except for a few warriors running drills in the fading light. Their movements blur together, familiar patterns I could execute in my sleep. Beyond them, smoke rises from the mess hall where the evening meal is being prepared. My stomach should respond to that, should remind me I haven't eaten since dawn, but hunger's been a distant thing lately.
I head toward my dwelling instead, boots striking stone in a rhythm that echoes off the canyon walls. The base is carved into the rock face like a wound, structures built from timber and stone and animal hides that blend with the natural formations until it's hard to tell where nature ends and civilization begins. Home. Supposed to feel like home.
Feels like a cage.
"Rakk!"
The great Chieftain Thorne has spotted me.
Dad's voice booms across the plaza, stopping me mid-stride. Every muscle in my body tenses, shoulders pulling up toward my ears before I force them back down. Not now. Can't do this now.
