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“Your hunt looks successful,” I offer with bland cordiality. Animosity has gained me nothing the last few weeks, but I do not feel like pretending to be her friend or anything more. We both know that what I really want is to leave and it would be disingenuous to play at anything else.
She merely grunts in reply, squatting down to tend the fire, before beginning to clean the rabbits. I am struck by the fact that she is extremely unlike any of the ladies I have ever known back at court. Especially those that I took as lovers for a time. She has no delicacy, no amiable manners. The orcress is taciturn and belligerent and sarcastic when she deigns to speak to me these days. She always gets her hands dirty, the one to take care of the camp, since I cannot do so.Which I wouldn’t, even if I could, I remind myself. I have no reason to help my enemy-turned-savior-turned-captor. She iskeeping me from my revenge and has bound me to her for selfish reasons of her own. What she wants from me, a matehood, I can never give her. There is too much blood between the two of us.
Still, I try to picture my last lover, the Lady Stasia, cleaning a kill and tending a fire and almost smile.Almost. I wouldn’t want the orcress to see it and misunderstand.
She impatiently pushes a lock of her short hair behind her ear as it has fallen forward and I have to admit there is something about her that could rival any lady of Adrik: she is extremely graceful. In an effortless way, that makes you know it is entirely innate to her being. And . . . sheispretty.For an orc, anyway,I amend to myself, though I know I am lying. She would be considered lovely even for a human. Her elvish parentage has graced her with high cheekbones and a small but strong chin. Her skin, the color of a spring leaf, is clear and supple, only marred here and there by a few small scars. The hair on her head is short for a female, shaved on the sides, but is thick and a becoming dark brown that complements her skin. Thick eyelashes frame her jewel-like eyes. Even her long fangs do not detract from her loveliness. But she could be fairy-blessed with beauty and it would not change the fact that she is my foe; the one thing standing between me and my goals.
Oblivious to my wayward and unwanted thoughts, the orcress roasts the rabbits over the fire, when the howling of wolves interrupts the silence. We have occasionally heard howls, not surprisingly, as these woods are famously home of a large werewolf pack, but never so close. Another howl cuts into the air, even closer than before. The orcress stops turning the meat on the spit and turns to the mouth of the cave. We both wait in tense silence, the howls getting closer and closer, and soon the sounds are accompanied by the breaking of undergrowth, closer enough that we can hear it.
“They are coming this way,” I remark, stating the obvious.
“I know,” the orcress replies curtly, her muscles bunching as if preparing for an attack.
Soon there are footsteps outside the cave, heavy on the ground, on the other side of the bushes that hide the entrance. Then a hush falls, everything in stillness.
“We know you’re in there,” comes a man’s voice, breaking the quietude. “Come out so that we may talk.”
I exchange a look with the orcress. “Untie me,” I urge.
Her eyes narrow. “What was that?”
“There are many of them. You heard the howls. You’ll need me at your back.”
“So that you can stick a knife in it and then run away? No,” she replies flatly, then turns back to the mouth of the cave.
Desperately, I argue, “You are a skilled warrior, it is true, but even you cannot fight what sounds like ten werewolves at the same time.”
The voice from outside comes again. “If you do not come out, we will come in.” Though the words sound flippant, the threat is apparent in his voice.
For the first time since I have met her, the orcress seems unsure, indecision in the bearing of her shoulders. She doesn’t know what to do. Finally, she turns back to me. “I will have your oath that you will not betray me, though I know such things do not mean the same to humans as they do to orcs.”
I know why she does not trust me, but it still stings that apparently she believes humans do not have enough honor to keep an oath. But I do not show any offense as I solemnly respond, “My oath, on the love that I have for my sister, that I will not betray you and will fight by your side in this conflict, come what may.”
The orcress hesitates only for another moment before nodding and crouching down to hurriedly undo the knots at my wrists and ankles. If she notices the raw redness on my skin from my earlier efforts, she doesn’t comment on it.
“I do this only because if I have to worry about defending you and fighting at the same time, I will not be able to focus.” Her voice is stern and as she finishes untying me. She gets up, looks down at me, and holds out one of her knives. A sign of trust, more than I could have hoped for. I take it in my grip and stand, feeling a little lightheaded, before following her out of the cave.
Things are as bad as I thought. Perhaps notquiteas bad, as we are surrounded by seven, not ten, werewolves but close enough. All but one are in their beast forms, enormous wolves, maybe twice the size of a normal creature, in a myriad of hues. They form a semi-circle around us and in their center is a lean muscular man, standing nude before us, perhaps having just changed from his wolf so that he can talk to us. I grip my knife tighter and get into a ready position, in case talking is just going to lead to fighting. The orcress at my side does the same.
Our readiness to fight does not seem to affect the naked man in any way. He stands calmly, almost carelessly, as if we are no threat. If they attack us, though, they will find out otherwise. The orcress is one of the best I have ever fought and I am the most skilled knight in Adrik. It is not pride saying this, but truth. It is the reason I was chosen as captain of the Blue Guard.
The nude man says, “You are more pathetic than I was picturing. Both of you. You look almost as if you are in as dire straits as we are.”
I am suddenly aware of my bedraggled appearance. I have not properly bathed or shaved in two months and my tunic still has a large hole over my right pectoral where I was stabbed. If my position-minded parents could see me now, they would probably disown me. Not that I would much mind. I have never been close to either. The werewolf’s words also make me notice that where I was thinking he was lean before, I can see his ribs under his muscles and his flat stomach is almost concave. The other wolves, though menacing, also look a few meals short of good health.
The orcress, however, ignores his jab at our appearances and asks, “Why are you here, wolf? We have done nothing to you.”
The other man smiles sharply as he says, “On the contrary, you are in our territory without permission and are hunting on our grounds.” He reaches over to the wolf closest to him and pulls something off its back. It is a rudimentary trap, made of willow rushes and vines. The nude man tosses it onto the ground between us, evidence of our supposed infraction.
The orcress answers easily, “I did not know this was anyone’s territory or that I needed permission to hunt. My mate has been injured, and I have been nursing him back to health. We could not have left if we wanted to.”
It is the first time since that first conversation that she has really referred to me as her mate. I feel a little uncomfortable at the appellation, but know that she is probably only doing so for a tactical advantage. Certainly, for the last few weeks she has not treated me as a mate. But werewolves famously mate for life, much like elves in their belief that everyone is part of a fated pair. She is most likely appealing to their culture as a way of rousing their sympathy. She is a clever warrior.
The man cocks his head and raises a brow. “Mates, eh? I wondered what an orcress was doing with a man in the Deep Wood. You met during the recent conflict?”
Metis putting it strongly. And somehow, not strongly enough. Despite that, I nod, my knife still raised warily. I do not trust this werewolf with his unconcerned air. It could be his way of lulling us into complacency. At any moment, I am expecting an attack. The orcress does the same, not letting the nude man’s conversational tone make her drop her guard.
The man nods his head, but then his eyes intensify, “But see, though I could believe you are mates, even though you both smell nothing like each other, I do not believe that you did not know we were here. We found your trace a month ago, but have just barelyfound your hideout because you were so good at disguising your scent. Why would you go to that trouble if you weren’t avoiding us?”
