Page 104 of Halfling
This was a mistake. This was all a mistake.
Sorcha followed a few paces behind Orek the rest of the day, morose in her silence. Even Darrah was subdued, sensing the tension and pain swirling around their halfling.
As she walked, she clenched her teeth against the frustrated tears, unwilling to let herself cry. Orek was hurting—she saw it in every line of his big body. Just a few minutes faced with his past was enough to fell this strong male, and Sorcha hated it.
So she couldn’t cry, because it wasn’t her who needed soothing, support.
It was easy to forget after all his sweetness and care that Orek was still a male who came from a brutal past. Having come dreadfully close to the life his mother was forced to live, she couldn’t blame her for not welcoming a reminder of all that horror. That didn’t stop Sorcha from resenting the woman for not seeing the wonder right in front of her. And that’s what it was, a wonder Orek had turned out half as good as he was.
She reminded herself of that goodness, and her tears and hurt slowly withdrew.He’s hurting and doesn’t know what to do.She knew what that felt like.
From the age of seven on, Sorcha never said goodbye to her father when he left. She didn’t want to see him, too heartsick from his leaving them yet again. Her mother would scold her—“What if something happens? Is that really how you want to leave it?”—but Sorcha hadn’t been moved. It washisdecision to leave. If this was the last time they saw each other, that was on his conscience, not hers.
She knew what it was to flee to the stables and lose herself amongst the horses, hiding away from hurts. To not want to be looked upon or pitied.
So she followed behind Orek, giving him his space as the day wore on. When he reached for her, she would be there.
Until then, she pondered his question.
Why keep bringing him into towns—these human spaces?
A good answer didn’t immediately spring to mind. She’d just…brought him with her. For safety, for company.
At least, that’s what she’d been thinking when she’d suggested it the first time.
All the times after…well. Perhaps she wanted to see what he looked like in her world.
Sorcha’s eyes found the broad cut of Orek’s shoulders, her heart aching. She wanted to hurry to his side and hold his hand, tease him, flirt with him. She missed him, even while looking right at him.
I was hoping he’d…fit into my world. My life.
Today proved it wasn’t so simple, but that didn’t stop the truth from crystalizing the moment Sorcha thought it. She’d insisted on him coming with her, into human spaces, to see if there was a way he could inhabit her world—and whether he’d want to at all.
Because she wanted him to stay with her. Because she wantedhim.
Fates, I love him.
Sorcha drew to a halt, stirring Darrah from his nap in her arms. She blinked blearily ahead of her, unseeing, as the truth finally spilled out of her innermost heart.
She’d fallen in love with her halfling.
Her ears rang as if the truth had been shouted at her.
Ahead, Orek stopped, too. His head turned, pointed ear cocked behind him to listen for her.
Her heart clenched, urging her to run to him and fling herself into his arms, exactly where she wanted to be. But his shoulders were still stiff, hands still balled into tight fists.
Sorcha put one foot in front of the other, and when he heard her moving again, Orek resumed walking.
Hiking Darrah higher on her chest, Sorcha cuddled his furry body close. He chirped at her, snuffling at her hair, and she was glad for the comfort when it felt as if her whole world had shifted on its axis.
She should have felt joy in the realization, but her nerves worked themselves into knots instead as the afternoon wore on. Orek said nothing and so Sorcha let him be, even as she willed him to turn around and look at her.
He was hurting and she wanted so badly to make it better—because she loved him, because he was hers.
She wanted to claim him, to be the belonging he’d never felt. Orek and this beautiful thing between them were the first things that were truly hers. Not her parents’, not her family’s—hers. She didn’t want to give that—him—up. She could offer him home, love, herself. She wanted to be his place in the world. His mother and his clan may not have claimed him—their reasons didn’t matter anymore, for she would.
And maybe that’s what he wanted, too—if she was just brave enough to ask.
