Page 33 of The Orc's Rage

“You will feed it,” Rathka said as Cedar took the pouch. It was warm, clearly full of fresh milk, and when Cedar lowered the nipple to the kitten’s mouth, it seized it. The orc who’d brought the kitten dispensed more instructions, which Rathka translated as the kitten suckled.

Cedar would need to take it outside to evacuate its bowels regularly, often multiple times during the night. It required exercise, and the orc promised he would return with a leash later. Then he tapped his chest with his fist and departed, leaving Cedar with the small, helpless animal in her arms.

She wondered what this gift meant. Surely it would grow up into a big, fanged cat like Liga. Was she intended to ride it alone, at Lord Kargorr’s side?

Or would she be riding behind him?

It was as if Rathka could see the thoughts plain on Cedar’s face, because she snickered. It was harsh and disparaging.

“Do not assume it means anything that it does not,” Rathka said.

“And what’s that?” asked Cedar. She didn’t like this woman’s attitude.

“You think it means he cares about you.” Rathka smirked. “It does not. He is binding you to him. Mollifying you with a cute pet.”

But Cedar understood already that it was more than a pet. Liga was Kargorr’s companion—she had witnessed that firsthand. He’d always fed Liga himself on their journey and petted her head before bedding down for the night, scratching behind and under her right ear.

Still, it could be a calculated move. She’d always thought orcs to be rather brutish and stupid, but Lord Kargorr was anything but. He thought ahead of her, and around her, and Cedar wouldn’t put it past him to try to buy her complacency.

But perhaps she wanted to be bought.

She petted the kitten as she fed him, mulling over how best to handle Rathka. The smartest thing Cedar could do would be to befriend her, to try to make the orc woman her ally rather than her enemy. And yet she couldn’t lose sight of the fact that in the hierarchy of the camp, Rathka was lower than she was, and that appeared to be of great importance to orcs.

“I’m not misunderstanding,” Cedar finally said as the kitten turned its head away from the nipple and coughed. “I know where I am.” She was a bedwarmer, he’d made that clear enough. Cedar held up the kitten under its front legs. “What sort of name should I give it?” she asked, to change the subject.

The question took Rathka by surprise, but then she narrowed her eyes and looked away again. “Whatever you want. It’s your choice.”

“Hmm.” Cedar endeavored to not let the dismissal get under her skin. “I thought it might be nice if it had an Orcish name, though.”

This earned another reaction. Actually looking thoughtful for a moment, Rathka studied the little cat in Cedar’s arms. Unlike Liga, it had smatterings of black spots in a smoky gray.

“Kiyameans ‘smoke.’ You could name it after its spots.”

Cedar smiled at this.Smokewas a good name for a creature who would grow up to be lethal and lithe, and Kargorr might see it as a symbol of her willingness to integrate.

“Kiya,” Cedar repeated, and Rathka actually smiled when she said it. “That’s a nice name. I think I’ll call him that.”

Rathka nodded. “Then it is so.”

Cedar returned the smile and brought the kitten up to her nose so she could look in its eyes. Milk dribbled from his little mouth, which she wiped off with her tunic. Then she bundled Kiya up in the furs, where he languidly stretched, contented now that he had a belly full of milk.

It was a good gift. Despite Rathka’s words, Cedar felt rather warm herself. Kargorr had thought of her, wanted her to have companionship. Whatever the reason, she was glad he had.

Kargorr

Lord Kargorr had always loved the scent of blood. While he was the orcling of a simple warrior, he had quickly fought his way to one of the most feared orcs in theparogwhere he grew up. Even as a youth, older orcs fell to him in sparring matches, and it was known by most then that Kargorr would challenge the lord or leave to start his ownparog.

He had wondered what the blood of another orc would taste like splattered across his face. But taking what belonged to someone else, rather than building it himself, felt lazy and unearned. No, even then he’d planned to create his ownparog, and continue thegrrosek’s mission of spreading across the land as they had done once upon a time.

That taste for blood had led many to leave with him, warriors and their families and children alike. He had traveled to otherparog, challenging theirkazekto sparring matches when he was accused of poaching. Every time he demonstrated his power, moregrroseksaw a better life under his leadership and chose to leave with him.

Not since the Melting had an orc so brazenly built his empire. Orgha had been one of his earliest followers, with no orclings of his own given hisyapiracouldn’t bear them. While the older orc wasn’t the strongest, nor the most capable in battle, he was loyal and quick-witted, which Kargorr found more useful in a right hand than an orc who was good with a battle-axe.

And Orgha, too, yearned for blood. He could almost smell the nearest human village, tasting the fresh flesh on the wind.

They headed to a larger outpost than the village where Kargorr had found Cedar, but now that hisparoghad moved south, he had a large enough force with him that it presented no real threat. It would be burned to the ground like all the rest.

When it was time, he and his warriors sent their cats away. The animals would return to theparogand let the others know to expect them home.

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