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It’s not dead and it doesn’t even look wounded, but it can’t move, and its glowing eyes look panicked.
Hot damn, it’s a stun gun!
Nowthisis something I can work with. I point and shoot in rapid succession, missing more times than not, but causing enough of a ruckus to disorient the wolves. By the time I stun the rest of them, the first wolf has already recovered and retreated into the shadows. The forest swallows them up, leaving me and Dexari alone once again.
Adrenaline makes my hands tremble as I lower the multi-tool and make my way over to a still unconscious Dexari. Two thoughts pop into my mind. He’s hurt, badly. And he must have been following me.
What the hell?
I’ll have to bitch him out for stalking me later because stopping his blood loss is my top priority.
I drop to my knees and use my multi-tool flashlight to get a look at his side. Panic starts to build when I realize just how serious his wound really is. The flesh is shredded and bleeding from under his arm to his hip, and I think I see exposed rib bones. The thought that he might actually die out here sends a chill through me that I can’t shake.
“Dexari,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “You stupid, stubborn orc. Why the hell did you follow me? Me and my trusty pocket knife would have been fine without you.”
He doesn’t answer, of course. His eyes are closed, his face pale. I don’t know why I care whether he lives or dies, but the thought of losing him terrifies me. I need to do something,anything,to save him.
I’m not a nurse, a medic, or even a fucking herbalist, but I do have a pocket full of makeshift bandages that I can use to stop the bleeding. I get out the strips of chemise I brought and lay them over his wound, using my hand to apply steady pressure.
His blood is hot and sticky, and quickly soaks the cloth. “After I turned down your offer to be a pleasure slave, did you suspect I’d try to escape? I bet you did,” I grumble, pressing more firmly to stem the bleeding. “Why didn’t you send your guards to follow me instead of coming by yourself? Pretty boy orc king justhadto play the hero.”
I don’t know why I’m rambling to the unconscious orc with tears streaming from my eyes, instead of running while I can. But I can’t seem to shut up. Maybe hearing my own voice makes me feel less alone. “Stay with me, you overgrown idiot. You’d better not die on me. Not after everything you’ve put me through.”
When Dexari's wound finally stops bleeding, I let out a shaky breath I didn't realize I was holding. But we're not out of the woods yet—literally or figuratively.
“Alright, your royal pain in the ass,” I mutter, wiping sweat from my brow. “Time to make sure you don't die of exposure after I just saved your life.”
Run, Sloan, run!
I push that thought aside, focusing on the task at hand: creating some sort of shelter. I set about gathering fallen branches andlarge leaves, my hands working on autopilot while my mind races.
Building a crude lean-to between two trees is harder than it looks, especially when you're trying to keep an eye out for more murderous alien wolves. By the time I finish, my arms ache and I'm covered in sweat-soaked dirt.
“Okay, now to get you under cover,” I say to Dexari's still form. Dragging him under the shelter without re-opening his wound is like trying to move a mountain, but I get it done. “Holy shit, what do orcs eat to get so heavy?”
Luckily, one of the tools I came across when looking for a weapon to fight the wolves was a lighter. So, once Dexari is in the shelter, I gather more wood and start a fire. The warmth is a small comfort, and I appreciate the light it puts out.
I settle in with my back against one of the lean-to trees so I can keep an eye on Dexari. His pale complexion and labored breathing is a constant reminder of how close he came to death.
Just as I start to cool down from all the activity, sounds coming from the forest send my heart racing, and I instinctively reach for my multi-tool.
When a group of orc guards emerge from the forest, led by that asshole Gorlag, I almost wish the wolves were back. They take in the scene: their king, unconscious and wounded, with me sitting near him. And they don’t look happy. Especially Gorlag.
Shit. They're going to thinkIdid this to Dexari. Then they’re going to kill me, or drag me back to the palace in chains.
In a split second, I make a decision. Instead of revealing my multi-tool, I lunge forward, and grab one of the daggerssheathed on Dexari's belt. Squatting beside him, I press the tip of the dagger to his chest, directly over his heart.
“Stay back,” I warn, forcing my voice to remain steady despite my fear. “One step closer and your king dies.”
The guards freeze, their eyes narrowing as they assess the situation. I stare them down, the dagger firm in my hand. My heart pounds so loudly I'm sure they can hear it.
It's a standoff between me and the orc guards.
I hold my breath, unsure if they'll call my bluff or if I'll be forced to do something desperate. Either way, I’m kind of fucked. If they believe me, I've officially taken their king hostage. If they don't, I'm a would-be assassin. And if by some miracle they let me explain what happened, I'm still the alien who already killed one of their own and has now led their king into danger.
Gorlag's hand moves slowly toward his sword, and I press the dagger a little harder against Dexari's chest, drawing a drop of blood.
“I said stay back!” I shout, my voice cracking slightly.
