Page 50 of Halfling
“You there,” the man insisted. There was nothing overly remarkable about the man; everyday tunic and worn leather vest, a wool cap and grizzled beard. Yet, she didn’t like the greasy way he smiled, his eyes roving around Orek’s neck.
Sorcha turned toward him but didn’t approach. “Yes?” she said, eyeing the many pelts and stuffed animal heads hanging in his booth.
“Pay you a fair price for the kit,” the man offered.
“The raccoon?”
“Yes, yes. He’s not much now, but feed him through winter and his pelt will be perfect.” The man waved behind him. “They’re hard to catch this time of year. I can save you the trouble of feeding it.”
Sorcha didn’t have to peer up at Orek to feel the fury radiating from him. It was akin to what she’d felt when the slavers had offered to buy her off of him.
Her companion took an ominous step forward.
“Not for sale,” Orek growled.
The man held up his hands. “I understand it’s easy to get attached. Rest assured, he’ll live in comfort with some friends until the time comes.” He waved at a dark corner of the booth. She hadn’t seen it before, but a handful of cages were stacked haphazardly there, all stuffed with adult raccoons. Too big for the cages, they looked on with dull, miserable eyes.
A rumbling growl began in Orek’s chest, and it wasn’t just Sorcha who heard. The merchant’s eyes went wide, and Sorcha swore she saw the hairs on his arms stand up as Orek closed the distance. So close, the merchant had to see that the man looming over him wasn’t human.
Orek tossed two gold coins down on the stall counter. The coins landed with a resoundingsmack,one wobbling on its rim with a deafening ring in the silence before coming to lay flat.
“For all of them,” Orek said, and nothing more.
Sorcha and the merchant stared at him in shocked silence.
That was how, before making camp for the night a mile out of town, Sorcha took part in a great raccoon emancipation. The gold Orek gave the merchant bought the awful traps too, and they carried the animals far into the forest before releasing them.
The five raccoons scampered off into the late afternoon, chittering happily. From his place in Orek’s hand, Darrah snuffled and licked his paws clean of the carrot piece the orc had just fed him.
“I think you like freeing poor, captured souls,” Sorcha said with a smile.
Even as dusk descended, she saw his blush. It warmed her in ways that tugged at her heart. She’d known of others with similarly brutal beginnings in life, cast out or cast aside, and many turned that anguish into anger at the world. Without knowing any love, kindness, or compassion, they had none themselves and spread misery into a world that had never cared for them.
Jerrod Darrow comes to mind.
Somehow, this big male had instead developed more kindness and compassion than she’d seen in humans with perfectly normal lives. He filled the lack not with violence nor scorn, but with his own kindness. He didn’t have to be kind. He didn’t have to be vicious, either; apathy would’ve been an understandable outcome to the unfairness of his circumstances.
Instead, this male was unfailingly patient and kind. It was a marvel.
And it made Sorcha understand how lucky she was that it’d been him to find her in that tent.
“You don’t think Darrah should go with them? His leg is almost healed.” Not that she wanted to part with the little beast, but she made herself say it.
“No. They’re all males, they won’t look after a kit.”
“Well, you’re a male looking after a kit.”
“That’s different.”
“I know.” She winked when he looked at her with a confused frown. “C’mon, let’s make camp. I have a few more meat pies we can warm up.”
12
Orek tried hard not to be too obvious about watching Sorcha as she readied for the day. Yes, he’d formed a habit of letting his eyes wander to her every few moments—he told himself it was to assure she was safe. If it also fed that growing need inside him just to behold her and take her in any way he could, so be it.
But this time was a little different. He held his breath, trying to kep the grin from twitching across his lips as she sat on a log and began putting on her boots. Pretending to be occupied with Darrah, who didn’t overly like being ignored and kept nipping him when his attention slipped, Orek watched with half an eye.
Her shapely calf disappeared into her boot, and then—
