Page 11 of Halfling
A frustrated huff echoed in the tent, and she watched his dark form search the area where she’d been.
She didn’t know why she stayed there in the pool of shadow, but there was something about being unseen that gave her comfort.
“Female,” he grumbled, voice low and tense. “I don’t have time for games.”
He pivoted a half-turn, eyes searching. She’d heard rumors of how well orcs saw in the dark—had it been exaggerated? Or was this orc just as odd as he seemed?
Then he took a long breath, smelling the stale tent air. Her dry throat constricted, but it didn’t scare her the way it had with the other orc. She hadn’t known breathing could be so sinister.
“I know you’re still here,” he said, just as low. “I will help you. I’ll take you out of camp. But we don’t have much time.”
His eyes kept searching, and Sorcha knew when he finally picked her out of the other shadows. All of him stilled, eyes, breath, hands. His whole focus landed on her, and she felt it like a visceral thing, moving over her.
But he didn’t rush over, didn’t even approach. All he did was say again, “I will help you.”
Sorcha couldn’t quite believe him, or her luck. It just seemed too fantastic, too surreal. Could she trust this orc, or was he just playing a twisted game with her?
She squared her jaw and moved out from the corner.
Do I have another choice?She’d face whatever this orc brought because at least it’d be on her own two feet. She’d rather run into the dark night than wait in the dark of this tent.
But first…
She shoved her hands at him again, her demand silent but clear.
He took one of her wrists in his huge hand and produced a knife from his belt. She didn’t dare look away from his face to watch that knife, didn’t dare let her glare slip.
“I’ll help you out of here,” he said, “but you must follow me. You won’t make it to morning on your own.”
She doubted that but a jerky nod from her and he slit through her bonds.
Sorcha almost moaned at the pleasure of air on her chafed wrists.
He shouldered his pack and tugged on her hand, encased in his callused fist, pulling her deeper into the tent.
With her free hand, she ripped away the gag and touched her tongue to the roof of her mouth in relief.
The orc led them through crates and piles to the back, where, without giving up his hold on her wrist, he silently cut down the middle of the back panel, creating an opening.
Outside stood more tents, but it was much darker on this side, the night an inky blue beyond the ring of the camp. The orc peered outside, and Sorcha heard nothing, no one moving about.
His grip on her tightened, and he made to move out of the tent, but Sorcha didn’t go with him.
He frowned at her, and she met that frown with her own.
“I’ll go, but you turn on me out there, I’ll carve your eyes out,” she hissed.
He blinked. Then nodded once. “Fair,” he said, and she let him pull her out of the tent.
She didn’t have time to think or gape about his reply, it took everything in her to keep up with him as they hurried through the dark, sleepy side of the camp. Her shoulder burned in its socket from the pace he set as he pulled her along, but there was no malice in it, no cruelty in the grip he had on her hand. It was firm but nothing worse, and she shared his desire to put distance between them and camp.
All she saw were empty tents and worn footpaths until canvas and leather gave way to boulders. The temperature dropped as they passed through ring after ring of rocks and boulders, all spaced as neatly as the tents had been.
But the gaps between one circle’s stones didn’t align with the next circle, making them weave between boulders. The orc was careful not to brush any mossy edges, and Sorcha tried to follow his lead. It was like a maze, making anyone coming or going slow down and navigate around the stones.
The orc didn’t take what she’d consider a straightforward path, the pattern more random, but when they emerged from the stones, she realized that his people must know the most direct route. He’d taken her through as quick as he could, didn’t just get her amongst the stones and have his way with her.
The thought gave her hammering heart a little comfort.
