Chapter 32
Theo
Mortimer lumbered past me, his face sullen as his men trailed after him. He didn’t notice me, and I called out to him.
It had been raining these past few days, a torrential downpour that hadn’t let up until only last night. It was drizzling now, and the humid air created a dense fog that surrounded the camp.
The tiny droplets hit Mortimer’s face as he turned and looked down at me. His eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, made my chest tighten. Ogres felt so much, so much more than we did. We didn’t deserve them. They were pure, kind-hearted, insecure beyond reason, but too good for this world. I could tell he needed to be with his clan, to prepare for the battle tomorrow, so I merely nodded, raising the cup I held up to him.
Mortimer didn’t say anything, the moss covering his body a bright crisp green. The deerskin skirt he wore, damp and tattered as it hung low on his waist. I thought he was about toturn away when a screeching sob left his lips, and his head fell into his large, callused hands.
I ran forward, patting his mossy calf, trying to comfort him, but my words were swallowed by his wails, and the others that had been following him started doing the same, if not louder.
Shit.
“Mortimer, please. Let’s get you some ale, it will help,” I shouted, and by some miracle he heard me. Mortimer peeked his large eye out from his massive fingers, his booming wails cutting off as he sniffled, wiping away his tears. The others, however, had less control and continued to sob loudly as I led them to the outskirts of the camp where I had large tankards filled for them.
I planned to sit with him for a while, but he only thanked me and led the group with him toward the forest. They had their own camp, and it was the ogres' tradition to grieve the night before any battle, to have one last memory together as a whole, in preparation for the deaths that would follow the next day.
I watched as they entered the forest, the dense foliage swallowing them as they disappeared from view. My gaze shot skyward as a massive black cloud on the horizon caught my eye. It was moving right for us, and I squinted, my stomach churning, my hand going to my waist, when my vision focused and I relaxed.
A large group of pixies were coming from the south, their small iridescent wings glittering in the waning light as they drew closer. Small daggers were strapped to their sides. Their silken black leathers shimmered against their blue skin. Determined, fierce expressions painted on their faces.
The treeline shook as hundreds of tiny heads popped up in the surrounding trees, having heard their approach. Some took flight to greet their approaching friends, while others ducked back into the trees. I smiled faintly at them. They would cause more chaos than anyone tomorrow. They might be tiny, but they were fierce, and they always had a good trick up their sleeve.
Making my way back through the camp, I watched the men and women around me as they huddled together around fires. There was no laughter, only haunting murmurs, like prayers on the wind. An occasional chuckle here or there, but it was mostly solemn.
Like the ogres, they too would spend one last night with their families, their friends, and at dawn try not to greet death too soon. I only prayed they would have another night with those they loved.
“Theo.”
My body stiffened as Dedra’s voice came from a tent to my right. I slowly turned to meet her, my gaze locking on her large almond eyes, the ones that matched my own. She was scared, I could sense it, feel it through whatever familial bond ran between us. We had always been able to do that. Know what the other was truly feeling. Like a second sense.
“What’s wrong?”
“I—” she said, pausing, her hands wringing in front of her. She was wearing a blue tunic, her hair undone and falling over her shoulders. Her thick boots sank in the mud at her feet. “Can we talk?”
I turned fully to face her, my arms folded over my chest, a deep sigh leaving my lips. “You can always talk to me, Dedra.”
She looked down at her feet and nodded slowly. I closed the distance between us, my hands grabbing onto her shoulders as she sucked in a shaky breath, forcing her gaze back to mine.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed, and without hesitation, I pulled her into a hug.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Dedra. It was Flynn. I understand. And I am so sorry for the way you found out. If I could have been there, you know I would have. I was too far away. And I had orders and—”
Dedra cut me off. “I know… I mean I know that now. And I know I overreacted.” She pushed out of my arms, wiping her face with the back of her hands. “I just couldn’t control it. I felt so alone, still feel so alone,” she admitted, and I tilted my head at her.
“You are never alone, Dedra. I will always be here, always. Same with the others.”
She nodded and tried to smile at me.
“Just maybe don’t try to fry our friends next time? Hmm?” I said, smirking, giving her a playful wink. Dedra choked on a small laugh. “Made for a good show though, if your plan was to distract everyone from all the death with more death, then—ow!” I chuckled as she punched me hard in the arm.
“Asshole.”
I feigned being hurt, and that seemed to make her smile grow further. I threw my arm around her shoulder. “Come on, let's go find the rest of our friends. You can feel sorry for yourself later.”
We found everyone, well, almost everyone, already in Xavier’s tent.
