Page 17 of Halfling
“A human village.”
She blinked, as if she hadn’t been expecting that answer. “There’s one close by?”
He shook his head. “No. Three days’ walk.” Though it could be more since he wasn’t on his own this time.
She made a humming in her throat, a sound that skated like fingertips up his spine.
“And you’re taking me there?”
“Yes.” Hadn’t he just said that?
Her head tipped back and her eyes went flinty, an expression he didn’t like at all.
“And you’ll let me go? Just like that?”
Orek stopped then, turning to face her and hoping his frown covered how his cheeks and ears burned at the question she hid behind other questions. “You’re not my prisoner,” he told her.
“That’s good to hear,” she said, though her stance and tone didn’t soften.
Orek waited for her to say or ask what she truly wanted to. His little experience with conversation meant he had little patience for it, too, and the way those mossy eyes looked at him, assessed him…he wanted to crawl out of his skin.
“You freed me from the camp and are taking me to humans…out of the goodness of your heart?”
Why does she make it sound like a bad thing?
His jaw worked, fangs rubbing against the inside of his upper lip. How could he explain it to this female when he could barely explain it to himself? Words and memories swirled inside him, most of his mother. He remembered her pain, her tears, and knew he’d never wish any of it on anyone. Not even Krul or Kaldar.
Certainly not this female.Never her,rumbled the beast.
He couldn’t tell her what he didn’t have words for, and the frustration and shame ate at him, knotting the disused words in his mouth until all that came out was a huff. His nostrils flared in irritation, and his shame burned brighter when a flicker of fear crossed her face.
“Did you want to stay there?” was what came out of his mouth.
She flinched, perhaps contrite, which only made him grumble more.
“No.”
“You are free to go whatever way you want.” He began walking again, relieved to not look upon her anymore and hide away the exposed nerve of his memories.
The leaves squelched beneath his boots as he walked unseeing through the forest, not needing much to know his heading was true. He knew these woods, knew the best caves, the best streams, the best places to set traps and collect berries and mushrooms.
He continued northeast, toward the village, teeth clenched so tight his fangs pinched his gums. Only when he heard the soft tread of the female following behind him did he let his jaw relax a fraction.
She’d touched a nerve in the orc, that much was clear. Sorcha followed him through the forest in silence, pondering what exactly he’d taken offense to. Not that she was one to apologize for something she hadn’t done or meant—in a house of so many siblings, as eldest, she never apologized, on principle—but still, it would be useful to know what precisely had irked her big—not captor, he insisted. Rescuer? Travel companion?
In her experience, men—males—were prideful creatures, so perhaps she wouldn’t understand it.
Whatever it was, and no matter that she wouldn’t apologize, the unknowing still had her chewing the inside of her cheek.
That and thesilence.
The forest wasn’t truly a silent place, not if one listened. She knew the forest to be a cacophony of noises, plants and animals trilling at each other in languages as old as the forest itself, perhaps even as old as the mountains to the west. It was quieter now, most of the forest creatures knowing to stay hidden as larger beings passed by.
If she truly listened, there would be something to listen to.
It was the lack of conversation she found unnerving.
She’d never considered herself a chatty person, she left that to her mother. But in a house of eight, sometimes nine, there was always someone talking or shouting or screaming. She couldn’t help a rueful twist of her lips at the irony of her wishing just a few weeks ago for a few moments’ quiet. Now, what she wouldn’t give to be in the middle of that maelstrom, deafened by chatter and squabbling.
