Page 28 of Marked By Feral Monsters
Massive.
I stare at the deep impression in the earth for a good long while, trying to ignore the embarrassing curl of need that tugs between my legs. It's thrilling, the sheer size of it. Craving courses through my veins, licking up my spine.
I don't trust my instincts. My head tells me to run, but my body stays put. Tentatively, I stick my bare foot out and step into the footprint, which engulfs my own.
Enormous.
Typically, when you see an orc's tracks, you hightail it out of there, putting as much distance between you and the monstrous green giants as possible. Stories of orcs stealing humans to feed on when the lands ran dry of other game keeps us all on alert, and no human in their right mind—especially a woman—sticks around to get caught.
I take another few steps, finding the second footprint hidden beneath the brush and mud.
That's how wide their stance is. My entire height nearly meets the width of the steps.
I'm tempted to lie down in it, to curl up and feel the comparison of our differences. Something about the size of them fascinates me. Scares me, too.
As I study the disrupted earth, the fine hairs along my arms and at the back of my neck begin to lift.
"Eden!"
Nearly to my knees, ready to crawl into the imprint, I freeze at the sound of my name.
I peer through the trees, but amongst the dense layers of green, I see nothing.
"Oh, Eden, there you are. What are you—oh my god!"Skyler, my bunkmate, screeches at the sight of the orc's footprint. "We need to run! Now!" Grabbing me, she tugs so fiercely, I feel the bones in my wrist crack, but I allow her to pull me away.
Skyler doesn't slow down until we're nearly five miles from the tracks. Not far enough to be clear of danger, but close enough to camp that she feels safe enough to slow our pace.
I felt safer, too, yet I can't shake the inexplicable urge to turn back. It's like I'm missing something.
Safety should feel good. Comforting.
The entire sprint through the woods, Skyler rambled on about orc attacks, violence and pillaging. We've all heard the stories; I know they're dangerous. And yet, the threat of an orc doesn't frighten me as it does everyone else.
Even after seeing the massive footprint, the evidence of their power, I should be as terrified as her. But all I feel is excitement, so I bury the feeling down, so deep that even Skyler, who knows me better than anyone—the only villager willing to tolerate my strangeness—can't guess my thoughts.
When we reach camp, Skyler rushes to the elders' tent, still tugging me along. I reluctantly follow, but can't help but feel annoyed as she exaggerates our brush with death.
"It was huge!" She spreads her hands wide, indicating the imprint. Her eyes are wide with fear, and the longer she retells the story, the more her voice shakes. Suddenly it sounded as though the orc was right there with us, and we barely escaped with our lives.
"Quick, girl, tell us where you were foraging," Devis, one of the elders, demands. He quickly ushers Skyler into the community tent and seats her among the other elders, while she drags me along beside her.
Our village is small, each tent made of ancient leather hides stitched together to protect from the rain. The community tent is the largest, and while it doesn't fit everyone inside, it's where the elders meet with the villagers each afternoon to share grievances and to dole out judgements.
They must have just finished holding court. Villagers like nothing more than drama, so everyone in the tent leans in close to listen to Skyler's tale. More people shuffle in, making me feel claustrophobic, and if it weren't for Skyler's hand still wrapped around my wrist, I'd have snuck out by now.
Life is busy in the forest. But dreadfully boring.
I've never liked it here. It's too dark, too stuffy. Likely a consequence of my past; I've been dragged in front of the elders to answer for my actions more than most, and always get an icky feeling when I'm in here.
Devis offers a frown that could scare small children when he realizes I'm standing beside Skyler. Everyone knows he dislikes me, but I'm used to it.
No one asks my opinion or if I have anything to add to the story, which is just as well. They don't want to hear that the tracks seemed to lead away from our village, not toward, and itappeared to be one lone orc, not a horde. I'm grateful, in fact, that no one asks me any questions. They might hear the curiosity in my voice, the lack of concern, which would disrespect everything the elders stand for.
While we haven't moved our village in years—almost as long as I've been alive—the older generations suffered many attacks in the past, which forced relocation for safety. The threat of an orc so close to camp puts everyone—the elders in particular—on high alert.
The elders decree new boundaries be put in place immediately. Someone scurries out of the tent to relay the information so everyone knows not to venture north of camp, while another small group leaves to organize patrols.
Skyler, overjoyed at being included in such a serious discussion, looks at a forest map with Devis and Orah, another elder, and points out the best foraging spots she's come across, imparting knowledge of seasonal zones and resource depletion and sustainability. It all sounds very tenable.
