Page 44 of Grumpy Pucking Orc
“In a battle against a minotaur clan that was attempting to take the western section of our territory.” His hand gently caressed my back. “I had defeated five of them and was fighting two more. When I turned to block a sword strike, the other minotaur tried to stab me with his horns. He would have gutted me, but I moved, and his horn tore me here along my ribs.”
I sucked in a breath, my mind going down a rabbit hole of what would have happened had he died that day. I never would have met him. I never would have experienced…this.
“It must have been horrible,” I said, my fingers still moving over the raised, bumpy flesh.
He grunted in agreement. “Three ribs broken and the muscle torn. Blood filled that lung and needed to be drained. It was five days before the healers could take the tube out and let the muscle fully heal. We orcs heal fast, but I needed to walk and move, or my lungs and muscles would have been forever damaged. I bled for ten more days, but the wound eventually healed.”
“That’s a very dangerous injury, even here with our medical technology,” I told him. “The risk of pneumonia and infection are high.”
He nodded. “Orcs rarely have infections and our healers are good, but I was lucky to have survived.”
I leaned forward and kissed the scar, my lips trailing its length. “Do you have any others? Scars, that is?”
I felt him shrug. “Many small ones that are no longer visible. I do have one from when I was an orclet that is very embarrassing. Few know about it.”
“Tell me.” I looked up at him, intrigued.
He laughed. “My friends and I climbed Skilmagh Mountain. They turned back because it was almost dinner time and orc parents are very strict about family dinner. I was…conterous? Contras?”
“Contrary,” I helpfully supplied.
“Contrary. I was a contrary orclet. If there was a rule, I was ready to break it.”
“Seriously?” I couldn’t imagine Ozar as a rebel. He seemed to be an orc of honor, whose word was his bond. I would have thought him the last orc to break the rules, even as a youngster.
Ozar laughed. “I brokemanyrules. And that day, I kept climbing to the summit long after my friends had gonehome. The view was amazing. I could see clear to the sea. But the climb down was more difficult and slower, partly because it was close to sunset. I slipped and fell and went over a cliff. When I awoke, I was soaked in blood, my head ached, and everything was blurry.”
The thought of a child Ozar with a serious head injury halfway up a mountain made tears spring up in my eyes. If he had been my child, I would have covered him in bubble wrap and locked him in his room for the rest of his life.
“I very slowly made my way down the mountain. It was not easy since my vision was affected, and it was so dark. I cried,” he admitted. “My parents had organized a search party, and thankfully my father found me. He carried me home, swore the healer to secrecy, and told the others in the search party that I’d made it home on my own and was going to be confined to the house for weeks as a punishment.”
“Was it so shameful to have a serious head injury from a fall? You were a child. I can’t imagine why your father would need to keep your injury a secret,” I said.
His smile held a hint of nostalgia. “It was considered a private matter, for my family to deal with. If the others had known how injured I was, it would have painted me as more than a rebel. It would have shown me to be a fool, who makes poor choices and can’t be trusted to lead others. I can see that you don’t understand, but what my father did allowed me to correct my mistake and eventually become a Clan Guardian.”
I didn’t understand, but I kept an open mind, knowing that his father had done the right thing according to their culture. And he’d saved Ozar, finding him and carrying him home where he could get immediate medical attention, thencovering up his recuperation as though he’d been “grounded.”
“Your mother must have been so worried.” I couldn’t help but think of how I’d feel in this woman’s place, on the edge of a panic attack as others searched for her missing son.
“She was. My mother feared I’d never make it to adulthood after that. It’s one reason I have no siblings.” He sighed and the sound was full of grief. “She and my father delayed having more orclets, planning to wait until I was older. But then she died.”
I reached up to cup his face. “Oh God! Ozar, I’m so sorry.”
He swallowed hard. “An illness swept among the orc clans and while all it touched became sick, more females died then males. It is why we have no children in our clan. The females who survived were young and have only been recently wed, so we hope to have children soon. We were lucky, though. Some clans only have two or three females that survived the plague; others have none at all that survived.”
“I’m so sorry,” I repeated, unable to process how horrible this must have been for him and the others. “There was nothing your healers could do?”
He shook his head. “They tried but could not stop the spread or the deaths.”
I stroked his cheeks, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss on his jaw. “Tell me about her.”
His smile was wistful. “Her parents were metal workers from a clan in one of the western mountain ranges. She was strong and gifted in her family’s art. I still have some of the knives she made me as well as the war hammer she’d made and gifted to my father on their wedding day. She was truly an equal to my father, his forever mate. Themoment he set his eyes on her, he knew no other would hold his heart.”
“That’s so romantic,” I whispered.
He nodded. “Her hair was as dark as mine, but hers had curls. She was tall, and very muscular from working with metal. Three times she won the stone toss contest at our fall festival and was legendary across the region inXalba, which is similar to your wrestling sport. As a mother, she always encouraged me, inspired me, and pushed me to expand my talents. While my father was a major influence in my becoming a Guardian, a commander of our clan, my mother encouraged me to explore what other orcs would consider silly hobbies.”
“Like what?” I asked.
