Page 3 of The Orc's Stolen Shepherdess

The face of them stretched high above my head and I knew on the opposite side was a cliff that fellinto a prickle patch. Every sheep tried to get to that delicious-looking patch at least once in their youth. I’d bandaged up more scrapes and scratches from it than I could count.

“Stay here,” I said to the flock, though I need not have. There was a tiny patch of clover at the base, which, despite the threat, was the reason we came to this area at all.

I hoisted myself up, following the path I’d climbed a dozen or more times. A fine sheen of sweat cooled my forehead. “Midnight, I’m going tostrangleyou,” I mumbled as I heaved up onto the next boulder. Far below me, I could see the sheep still grazing. A few lazily watched me while munching their clover. At least none of them had wandered off yet.

I got up to a large boulder with a smooth, even top, and a muffled bleat sounded.

From below me.

Confused, I looked down. Eleven sheep. Midnight still wasn’t among them.

I let out a whistle. “Midnight! Come!”

Another bleat. It was to my left. Still so muffled. Where was she? All we had around were rocks.

I managed to get up to the next level, and my stomach dropped.

I knew these rocks and boulders like the back of my hand and I knew there should not be a crack in them here. The dark, jagged opening was large enough to fit a grown man inside. The chasm plunged deep, and I wanted to stay as far away from it as possible.

A low bleat sounded from inside and my heart stopped. My fingers scrambled to get my lantern out of my pack. I lit the candle inside with a match and hung it on the end of my crook.

Carefully, I moved to the edge of the crevasse and lowered my lantern to look.

I gasped with horror.

Fades, have mercy. Whatwas I going to donow?

Chapter Two

Caivid

“What do you mean, you want us to just walk in the woods?”

“Do you mean we’re patrolling?”

I stood with my arms crossed and my brow furrowed as my brethren bellowed their complaints. The warrior camp smelled of familiar woodsmoke and roasted meat, most of which was only half done. Many of the fires were still embers and many of my fellow orcs still had sleep in their eyes.

It was too early in the morning for this confusion.

“Why do we need to patrol?” Ogvick asked in his bright, high voice. He’d roused first and looked like he’d already had a bath. His green skin was damp and his light hair wasslicked back in a tight queue. “I thought these woods were safe.”

“They are.” Chief Brovdir’s voice sounded more like broken rock than words. The puckered white scar at his throat looked even more pronounced in the morning light. “These are orders from Chief Sythcol.”

“Why should we have to listen to what that prissy conjurer wants?” Hendr, a burly orc with a death wish, shouted.

“He ischief,” Brovdir said with a tone that left no room for argument.

But Hendr liked to argue anyway. “You’reour chief. He’s chief of the Rove Wood Clan. We don’t have nothing to do with them.”

“We arepartof them now,” Brovdir said low enough to shake the ground under my feet. “We are members of this clan.”

From the corner of my eye, I could see a few of my brethren relax into this truth. After decades as part of the Warlord’s elite fighters, after years of constant travel between clans and in battles, we were finally settled. These perfect, blessed woods wereour home now.

My back ached from tension at the thought. I wished I could beat that truth into my skull.

“Report any oddities to Chief Sythcol and me.” Chief Brovdir grimaced as he rubbed the scar at his throat.

“But what oddities?” Ogvick’s young face went tight. “Do you mean soldiers of the Waking Order?”

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