Page 56 of The Orc's Rage

After minutes of silence passed, Rathka suggested they go for a walk to return the dishes, and Cedar nodded without answering. She rose to her feet and put Kiya, who was already much bigger than even the biggest dog, on a leash. How long would it be until the cat was no longer allowed in their tent and would have to sleep in the snow with the others?

Then she would truly be alone.

They strolled without speaking. Cedar watched orcs busying about, sorting through the spoils of the raid and delighting in what had been brought back. Without asking, Rathka stopped them in front of the leatherworker’s tent and gave Cedar an apprehensive look.

Perhaps the familiar stench of the workshop and the steady, mindless scraping of leather would be a good distraction. Cedar wondered if, now that Kargorr had returned, she would be allowed to continue her work here.

She stepped inside, and the old leatherworker, Carn, turned to greet her. There were piles of new furs littered about, and the smell of carcasses almost overwhelmed her. Cedar had become sensitive to many smells, and things that used to please her now made her stomach churn, but the odor of death here made her feel strangely grounded. It was familiar, and that was all she wanted right now.

Carn must have noted her mood because he didn’t speak to her further, gesturing instead to where he’d already skinned a cow and had the raw hide stretched out. She began the work of preparing it, and it came as second nature by now. She lost herself in the monotony of the task, in the steady movement of her hands as she scraped and applied the foul-smelling mixture and scraped some more.

She had learned all the words she needed to get by in the leatherworker’s shop and picked up new ones every day, listening while she worked as he conversed with other orcs. Perhaps Cedar couldn't speak more than a few words of their language, but she could understand much of what went on around her now.

After a few hours, Kiya came and insistently buried his claws in her shin, reminding her that he had needs.

“I’ll come back soon to help with all of this,” Cedar said, gesturing at the work that lay ahead of them.

“Only if you wish it,” Carn said. “I can handle it alone.”

He probably thought he was doing her a favor. Perhaps it was just a sign of his deference now that Lord Kargorr had returned. But knowing she wasn’t needed made Cedar wither. She liked helping here because she could feel useful, and Carn always appreciated her contribution. But now he was making it clear that he was merely humoring her. So she withdrew, leaving wordlessly with Kiya.

Rathka waited outside, and they walked quietly to the edge of the camp, where Cedar unclipped Kiya’s leash and he went running. She threw snowballs at him the way he liked, and he leapt off the ground, trying to eat them out of the air. He only ever ended up with snow all over his face, but that was part of the game.

A few times, Rathka opened her mouth as if to chide Cedar for something, but then she would close it again and look out over the land, instead. Cedar wondered how much the old orc knew.

Soon, the sun had drifted low and it was time for dinner. When Cedar rose to her feet, Rathka caught her elbow.

“What is wrong with you?” Rathka asked, her brows drawn together. “You haven’t said a word all day, and usually I can’t make you shut up.”

Cedar jerked out of Rathka’s grip. “It has nothing to do with you,” she snapped, surprised even at herself and how sharp her voice came out.

The orc woman studied her with even more interest. “You did run away last night,” Rathka said thoughtfully, more like she was speaking to herself than to Cedar. “That’s why Lord Kargorr left.” She laughed darkly. “I had assumed you wereoccupiedwith youragsan.”

It felt to Cedar like a sharp spike to the heart. That’s not who Kargorr was. He would never let her be that person. She knew where she belonged now, and it would never be at his side.

Cedar leaned close to Rathka. “Shut your mouth,” she said in a low, quiet voice. “What happens in my tent stays in my tent. It is for me alone to know.”

Rathka watched her even more carefully, as if trying to decipher what it was Cedar wouldn’t tell her. So Cedar schooled her face into a mask of neutrality and called on Kiya to return to her. He’d gotten so big now that he nearly bowled her over. Cedar still ended up stumbling backward, almost falling over until someone caught her.

“He’s going to be a big cat someday,” she heard Orgha say. Cedar righted herself quickly and put space between them, remembering how those same hands had once grabbed her as she fled for the woods and dragged her back, sentencing her to this fate. “Perhaps he will be bigger than Liga.”

“Sorry,” Cedar said. “He doesn’t know his own strength yet.”

Orgha’s eyes connected with hers, and though they were just as pitch black as Lord Kargorr’s, there was a smattering of concern in them.

“A common occurrence when gifted with great power,” Orgha said carefully. “To not have full control over it. It can lead to many mistakes.”

So he knew. She was merely amistake. What Kargorr had done to her—amistake.

“Kiya would never truly harm me,” she said, reaching for the cat’s head to pet him, to try to cool her blood. “Humans—and orcs—can harm in a way Kiya couldn’t dream of.”

But all Orgha did was nod, and then he passed her, stopping in front of Rathka. His fingers tangled in hisyapira’s silver hair, then he drew it to his nose and sniffed it, his body relaxing as he brought in her smell. It was obvious when Rathka felt it, too, because her stiff shoulders softened and she leaned into him, probably without realizing it.

Cedar’s resentment froze into ice in her chest. She snapped on Kiya’s leash and turned away, leading him back to the tent, with or without Rathka.

27

Kargorr

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