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In the late afternoon, I tell them I’m going out. I gesture off towards the trees, where once upon a time I looked down on this valley and saw my salvation.
“What?” Han’zir frowns at me. “Alone? That’s not a good idea.”
I nod with enthusiasm. I can go alone. It’s not far, and I won’t be seen. “It’s all right,” I tell him. “I’ll be fine.”
For the first time in hours, Drazak raises his head. I’ve never seen him look quite so... defeated. Every muscle in his face is slack, his eyes are red, and his hands are trembling. He shakes his head at me.
“Don’t go,” he says, and all of his usual gruffness is gone. I want to throw my arms around him again, to bring him even some small ounce of comfort, but I don’t know if he would welcome it.
“I’m going,” I say, standing firm. I know what I need to do. I grab two baskets, one in each arm, and set off. If the soldiers find me, they find me, but I can’t let my trollkin go hungry tonight.
I search high and low for berry bushes, scrounging for the nuts that sometimes grow on trees, and gather everything I can. There are edible greens, too, and if I’m really enterprising tomorrow, maybe I can catch a rabbit or a quail. Something to feed the hungry bellies that are sure to come.
Han’zir gets to his feet when I return, taking both baskets from me. As he pets my head, there’s a sincere fondness in his eyes.
We eat the few apples, berries, and nuts I found, sharing them amongst ourselves. I take as little as possible, but after a while Drazak firmly sets down an apple in front of me. When I open my mouth to object, he gives me a death glare, so I shut it and take the offering.
That night, the barn is quiet and lonely without the chickens I’ve gotten so accustomed to living with. There’s one single egg left in a nest that they didn’t take. I’ll make sure to cook it for Drazak in the morning.
Maybe that can be one small joy in the middle of all this mess.
The next day, the orc tries to put on a pleased face for me when I serve the egg to him, but it’s only on the surface. I didn’t think I would ever miss the growly Drazak I’ve come to know, but seeing him this way, with no fighting spirit at all, hurts in a place that’s new and tender. When I take his plate away, I pause to hold his hand in mine—getting my fingers around just two of his big ones—and grasp them firmly. I want him to know I’m here.
Han’zir stops on his way past and leans down to kiss him, and Drazak’s eyes fall closed. I turn away, not wanting to interrupt their moment, but the troll finds his way to me next. To my immense surprise, he kisses my head, too.
“Good keva,” he says, nodding toward the egg, then continues on his way, leaving me wondering what he’s thinking. Drazak doesn’t miss any of it, and his eyebrows furrow like it doesn’t make sense to him, either.
Drazak
The way little Esme held me, you would think she was much bigger, much taller, much sturdier than the waif she is. She lent me what strength she had, and it was enough to convince me of one thing: It’s up to me to make sure we get through this, that all three of us survive.
It is the three of us now, living here on our savaged farm—no more two of us and one dog. Esme has done everything she can to find food, but I’m afraid of her venturing farther afield and running across other trollkin. If something happened to her out there, I’d never forgive myself.
I only manage to land two squirrels the first day I go hunting, but thankfully I have more success the next time. I manage to bring down a small boar, just a young one, but it will feed us for a while. I brought rope along with me, so I tie its legs together, loop the rope around my waist, and drag my prey one slow step at a time back home.
It’s late at night when I finally return and gut the boar’s carcass on the work table, then hang it up to finish butchering in the morning. I find Han’zir and Esme inside, asleep in front of the fireplace, which has burned down to embers. Esme is tipped over, her head laying in Han’zir’s lap, while he’s fallen onto his back and now snores peacefully. I study them together, and a tiny warmth flickers in my chest.
Does he still only see her as a thing, as a pet? Or has he, too, felt what I have? But I can’t think of a way to talk with him about it that doesn’t give away my own need, my own burning lust, for someone that isn’t him. I can’t do that.
I consider waking them and taking Han’zir back to bed, but then Esme would return to the barn to sleep in the hay, and tonight, I don’t want that for her.
I only objected to her living in the house because I feared what having her so close might do to me. Now, as she becomes an even more fundamental part of our lives, as her encouraging smiles and small, hardworking hands buoy my spirit, I’m more afraid of her than ever. There’s a pull between us, something I’ve only ever experienced with Han’zir. It was the reason I chose him when he came doggedly hitting on me at the market.
So I leave them be, considering for a moment that it’s selfish of me to make her sleep in the hay loft just to protect my weak willpower, but it’s what I need to do.
Esme
Most mornings, Drazak takes his bow and arrow and leaves without another word to us. Han’zir is busier now than I’ve ever seen him, as if he’s trying to make up for all the lazy days in the past. He tears out stalks that have been ravaged by soldiers, and shores up soil and fertilizer around those few that remain and are still able to produce this season. Occasionally I find him whispering to them, giving them little encouragements and telling them his secrets.
One afternoon, though, we’ve run out of things to do, and Drazak still hasn’t returned, so I pick up my baskets and head out into the woods to scrounge up what I can. Han’zir stays behind to wait for Drazak to return, and the haunted look in his eyes is almost too much for me to bear.
Even he can’t hide how defeated he is, how the pain of losing everything gnaws at him. He fakes smiles and forces himself to remain upbeat to keep us going, but underneath, he’s hurting. I wish I could take it away, but all I can do is be there for him.
When I return from my trip, there’s a fire going and Drazak is home. Again I try to take the smallest portion I can, but Han’zir insists I eat more. As the food falls into my belly, it fills me with guilt. Drazak is watching me over the fire, and his gaze is so intense, so piercing, that I have to look away. It makes my pulse race, my chest tighten and burn. What is he thinking? Does he feel the same deep pull towards me that I feel towards him?
I don’t realize he’s stood up until he’s right in front of me. He kneels down and slides some of his food into my bowl with a grunt of annoyance. Before he can leave, though, I grab onto his dirty, torn pants.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. I don’t know if I’m thanking him for the food or for simply caring about me. He just nods gruffly, and pads back to his seat.
