AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Are you looking at the Thicket?” inquires my wife, settling back into the bed, covered in the down duvet. She can probably feel my alarm dissipating through our bond.
I put down my ax and finish removing my belt. “The Thicket?”
She smiles at me through the dark. “The woods you are looking at. They are called the Eastforte Thicket. Marvik used to take me there as a child. He had a hideout he had made somewhere in the center. I was the only one he ever brought there. It was special to him.”
Her voice goes sad at the end, as it often does when she mentions her brother. She misses him, making even good memories have a bitter tinge. How cowardly, lying sadists like the Duke and Duchess Grimble had a son that was so kind and protective of Adalind I will never be able to fathom.
“Maybe on our way back, you can show me the hideout,” I suggest.
Adalind just shakes her head. “I was young when he took me there. I’m sure that I could not find it again.”
“I would tear the forest apart to find it for you.”
She chuckles lightly. “I would expect nothing less from my fearsome orc husband. Alright, maybe on the way back I will let you find it for me.”
That makesmesmile. “Oh, you’llletme, will you?”
My mate nods, as if she is granting me a great boon. “It is the least I can do.”
I climb into bed with Adalind and pull my precious woman into my arms. She willingly comes, relaxing with a little sigh into my embrace and I place a kiss on her Mating Mark. Love reverberates through our bond, making me relax as well. Tomorrow is another hard day of travel and she needs all the rest she can get.
So, wrapped together, we sleep.
Chapter 16
Dura
The Eastforte Thicket is a younger forest than the Deep Wood. The ground isn’t as gnarled with roots and the trees aren’t too thick. Poplar and birch trees, their leaves changed to orange and yellow, make up the bulk of the wood. It is more welcoming and peaceful in its ambiance and I have found no evidence of predators. As such, Marvik was right about the hunting. After my first day every snare that I put out was full, so much so that I let some of the rabbits go. I have no need for so much game now that I am on my own. It seems foolish that the townsfolk avoid this bountiful wood just because it spills into Barakrin, but I suppose humans can be frightened and distrustful of the monstrous races. Orcs know that better than most.
It was easy as an orcling game to find the cave Marvik talked about, with the furniture still inside. His many treks through the woods as a child left a simple-to-follow trail that led straight from the castle to the cavern. Simple for a trained orc scout, that is. Which, of course, will not do if it is to be a hiding spot. One of the first things I do, after making my snares, is to spend a day obscuring the traces of the path. I move logs and stones, spread leaves and even transplant a bush, carefully concealing the traces of the trail. There are still a few when I am done, but it is not nearly as easy to find.
It is worth the work, however. After the cave in the Deep Wood, having a shelter with tables and chairs and even a sagging settee seems palatial. The furniture is a little worn and weathered, but has held up surprisingly well, the cave having protected them from most of the elements. There is even a chest with some books in the very back of the tunnel, the oiled wood having protected thepages quite well. I haven’t tried reading them yet, however. Though I am fluent in Adrikian, my reading and writing is weaker than my speaking. I suppose I will have nothing but time, however, in the winter. It will be as good a time as any to practice.
After that first day, I get to work covering the entrance with branches to keep the wind and snow out when the winter comes. I use some of the rope to make a make-shift door at the end of the wall of branches. The wall is effective, though there are some gaps in the wood. I don’t have the tools to properly machine the wood to be flush. I’ll need to fill the gaps with some mortar when I have time.
I also cut down more branches after the wall is complete, planning to make a smokehouse so that I can preserve my hunts more effectively. It is lucky that Marvik thought to get a hatchet, for it is quite useful getting the branches, though I use my sharper orc-make knives for trimming and details. The days are difficult, but I welcome the hard labor as it gets me out of my head and into the moment. It is the nights I dread.
In the evening, when I am alone in the cave, bedded down on my bedroll, I have time to think and regret. Should I have left Marvik like I did? I am ashamed that I acted in fear, ignoring the screaming protests of my Mating Instinct and the Recognition. I just woke that morning with Marvik’s arms around me, feeling my Mating Instinct completely at peace and wanting more physical affection, and panicked. His sweet, pleading words from the night before were not enough for me. The closer we get the more I have to lose and I have already lost too much. Being with him makes me weak. Besides, he has shown that I cannot not trust him, not with my safety and not with my heart. Whatever god picked him as myAsh’kaeither made a mistake or was cruel in their intentions.
The other thing that I regret is that I allowed him into my body. Not because I didn't enjoy it, like he feared. But because Ididenjoy it. It remade me, being with him. Now I have awakened an appetite in me that no amount of touching myself can sate. I ache deep inside,my thoughts full of him. In those quiet, agonizing moments, I almost convince myself to go find him, to beg him to choose me. But I remind myself that I was a shieldmaiden, a general, a warrior. My pride will not allow me to beg. I would rather be alone than have him reject me, or worse, accept me out of pity.
I have been in the Thicket for about a week when I get the feeling I am being followed. I am out hunting, checking the snares when I get the distinct feeling that eyes are on me. Turning, I see nothing but trees, the sunlight streaming through the leaves. Was it my imagination? I turn back to my trap, but the feeling doesn’t go away. I reset the snare and stand, brushing off my knees. Nonchalantly, I walk through the wood, on my way to my next trap. I don’t hear any other steps, but I can’t shake the feeling that I have someone, or something tailing me.
I get to a big tree, a rare oak, and rather than step past it, I turn, ducking behind the thick trunk. Waiting with bated breath, I concentrate on listening. At first, I think that I have gone mad, that the solitude is already getting to me, when I hear it: the unmistakable sound of footsteps. The weight and gait behind the steps say that it is a male. A brave hunter from town? The guard in Portia said that food is scarce right now in the south. Maybe desperation has brought one of the townspeople into the Thicket after the game. But if it is a hunter, why would they be following me, so obviously trying to sneak under my notice? What if this is something more sinister? I pull out my knives, just in case.
The steps get close to the tree and I whirl around out of my hiding place, shoving the stalker up against the trunk, my left knife darting up to rest against their neck. Then I see the face of my follower.
“Marvik?”
The human warrior stays still, looking down at me with wry amusement. He is wearing his new clothes, a tunic and leather overcoat. A new knapsack is on his back, though not as big as the one I took from him. “Nice to know you missed me.”
I keep my knife at his throat. “Why are you here? How did youfind me?”
“I took a chance that you didn’t know where else to go and would have gone to find my cave. I was right.”
His confidence irks me, especially his assertion that I didn’t know where else to go. It is true, but that doesn’t make it any less irksome.
“That still doesn’t explain what you are doing here.”
