SWNOVELS Her Orc Warrior: Chapter 18
Three hours into our ride, a happy shout goes up from the wagons, and Vark joins in, calling back to the drivers in front of us.
Wren, who had been resting against my side, sits up with a start, her small body suddenly filled with tension.
“I’m sorry, little mouse,” Vark says, gently petting her blonde hair. “It’s just that we’re finally in our own territory. We passed the border a minute ago.”
The wagons roll forward at a faster clip, as if even the horses are excited to be so close to home at last. We stop for lunch at a village off the main road, and I discover that in these lands, humans and orcs live peacefully side by side. Orc children run around the wagons, and Lirg, the driver who’d spoken to me this morning, picks up a couple of green-skinned boys and sets them on his shoulders. His orc wife follows close behind, carrying a baby swaddled in a soft-looking blanket, and kisses him soundly right there in the village square.
“He lives here?” I ask Vark when the villagers start unloading the wagon that Lirg had been driving. “I thought all of your clan lived at the Hill.”
Vark shakes his head. “No, there are villages throughout the kingdom. They’re the ones who take care of the farmland and provide the Hill with most of the food, apart from the kind that we can’t grow this far north.” He motions at the back of our wagon. “We buy or trade for whatever we need in Ultrup.”
I chew on this while watching the organized chaos surrounding us. “What does the Hill provide for the villages, then?”
Vark sends me a sharp look, as if I’d said something strange. I stare at him, unsure of what I’d done wrong.
At last, he says, “Our hunters provide valuable furs, and the Hill houses the greatest forge in the realm. We don’t only make weapons but tools as well, for farming, cooking, and so on.” He pauses for a moment, then adds, “And we’re warriors. We patrol the lands and protect our people.”
I reach out and clasp his hand, not in pity but support, knowing how difficult it is to give up a life you once had. The difference between Vark and me, however, is that his previous occupation was honorable, whereas I used to be a thief. I would like nothing more than to learn a craft that would help me earn honest money for once.
We depart from the village with one less wagon and driver. Wren says goodbye to the horses, Comet and Soot, and sits back on our wagon with her lower lip trembling and her eyes swimming with unshed tears. Shooting a worried look at me, Vark promises her that we can visit them soon. I raise an eyebrow at him, stifling my laugh, and he shrugs helplessly, as if to say that he’s powerless against Wren’s sadness.
That night, we stop by the road, and the orcs light a large fire, the mood in the camp markedly different from the previous nights we’d spent in the human lands. There’s no need anymore to keep the wagons circled close for fear of attack.
After I give Wren a snack of dried figs and some cheese, Korr catches my attention.
“I’m going hunting,” he says. “You said you wanted to learn.”
He has a short bow already strung, and a quiver of arrows strapped to his back. I search around for one that I could borrow, but Korr shakes his head.
“You don’t get a weapon until you’ve practiced with it.”
I pout but understand the sentiment. I run over to Vark to press a kiss to his cheek, then tell Wren to be good and stay in the camp. Korr sets out into the forest, not following any path, picking his way through the brambles and the dense but leafless undergrowth. We enter the deep forest with tall fir trees and very little light coming to the forest floor.
He shows me how to walk more quietly, avoiding stepping on dry branches and lifting my feet so my boots don’t scuff on the ground. I do my best to imitate him, though I’m a long way from being as quiet as him. He’s a patient teacher and doesn’t tell me off when I brush against a tree with my coat, sending off a dusting of loose bark because I’m too focused on where I’m putting my feet. Instead, he brings my attention to animal tracks and explains the difference between elk and boar, marten and mink.
Finally, he lifts his hand and stops dead in the middle of a dense patch of young maple trees that sprouted up where a massive fir had fallen, its thick trunk still decomposing on the ground. Silently, he points to my right, and I see it a moment later, a young buck stepping out of the shadows of the surrounding firs.
Korr’s arrow hits the animal in the neck, and he falls gracelessly, dead with a single shot. I gasp, then smack my hand over my mouth. I’d seen plenty of death up close, but somehow this was much more visceral, a thing of beauty snuffed out.
Beside me, Korr closes his eyes and stays silent for a minute, so I do the same, honoring the life that ended. Then we approach, and Korr cuts out the arrowhead, then cleans the elk right there in the forest. I stand by in silence, because it’s clear that this isn’t easy for him, and I respect him more for that. At last, he wraps the animal in waxed canvas, slings the bundle on his broad shoulders, and stands, his face somber.
“Come, human,” he says. “We shall return now.”
We start for the camp again, but we only take a couple of steps before Korr stops in his tracks and inhales deeply.
“What is it?” I whisper, fear lancing through me.
We’re in the middle of the woods, so it could be anything—a wolf, a bear, or even a wild boar could cause a lot of damage if we caught them by surprise. And we’re carrying fresh meat, so we’re likely attracting every predator in this corner of the forest.
But Korr isn’t searching the bushes to see where the threat is. He’s staring into the branches of a tall maple tree. I squint, trying to see past the remaining brown leaves in the gloom.
And there she is, sitting on one of the branches. Wren had followed us from camp and hid up in the tree.
“Oh gods,” I gasp, stumbling forward. “What are you doing here? Didn’t I tell you to stay in the camp?”
She scrambles from the tree and runs into my arms. I hug her to me even though I’m angry with her, recognizing that it’s fear fueling my anger.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I wanted to learn to hunt, too.”
I crouch next to her, looking her straight in the eyes. “All right, but you should have said so. You could have gotten lost in the forest, Wren. It’s not safe. Promise me you won’t go off alone again.” I glance up at Korr, who is watching us intently. “We should hurry back. The others must be worried sick if she slipped past them.”
Korr doesn’t say anything, only leads us back to camp. It takes us longer this time, with me stumbling over tree roots and branches littering the floor. Night is falling, and I can barely see where I’m going, but I’m not about to bother Korr for help. Finally, we emerge onto the clearing where the wagons have been parked in a loose circle.
Ozork lifts his head when we appear from the trees, his expression stark. Then he sees Wren in my arms and sags with relief. He lifts two fingers to his mouth and lets out a shrill whistle that pierces the air.
Moments later, Vark and Ritta run into the camp, each from their own side. Wren takes one look at them and bursts out crying.
“You took us on a merry chase, little mouse.” Vark comes closer. He strokes her wet cheek with the backs of his fingers. “You could have told me you wanted to follow your mama. Will you do that next time?”
She nods, hiccupping, and runs her sleeve under her nose. “I didn’t want to scare you.”
Ritta shakes her head. “We care about you, is all. We don’t want to lose you.”
The males all nod at that.
Wren gazes at them from my arms, her blue eyes solemn. “I’m sorry.”
I hug her close and bury my face in her soft hair. “It’s all right, baby. Nothing happened, we were just worried you’d get lost in the dark. And you know better now, right?”
She clings on to me as I carry her over to the stream to wash her face. “Yes, Mama. But I wasn’t going to get lost.”
I set her down by the water. “Wren, we don’t know these forests.” I don’t want to scare her any more, but she has to understand how dangerous this could be. “And you left after sunset. If you took a wrong turn…”
I shudder, unable to finish the sentence. The thought of losing her is too horrible to contemplate.
“But I had a little light to guide me.” She stares at me as if I’m being dense. “It said it would take me back to camp if I wanted to.”
My grip on her shoulders tightens, and I have to force myself to loosen my fingers. “What are you talking about?”
Wren spreads her arms impatiently. “It was like in the fairy stories Ozork told me about. A little light came out of the forest and spoke to me. He said he was a guardian of the forest and helped those who got lost.”
I exhale in relief, scrubbing my palms over my face. It was a story, and in her mind, these ancient woods must have seemed exactly the right kind to foster glowing, flying orbs of light. “All right, then. Tell me more about this fairy. But no more walks in the forest on your own.”
She beams at me and chatters about her new fairy friend and how he told her where the sweetest strawberries would grow in the summer. I wash her in the stream as best I can, and we return to camp for dinner.
It’s wonderful to see the orcs more relaxed now that they’re on their own land, and Ozork even brings out a battered old fiddle and plays several songs to which Wren dances, twirling around the fire with her arms stretched out to the sky. After dinner, she collapses, exhausted, and I sing her to sleep with a lullaby that my mother must have sung to me because it’s seared in my memory, and the staff at the orphan home certainly never sang for us at night.
Wren might not have had the happiest start to her life, but I’ll make sure the rest of her childhood is wonderful. Setting off with a caravan of orcs wasn’t what I had in mind, but somehow, I think it’ll be better than anything I could have imagined.