The smell of the earth
fills her nostrils as she wakes. Moving slightly causes pain to sear through
her right leg. Clenching her teeth, she ignores the pain and reaches over to
the sword just beyond the reach of her hand. Gripping the hilt of her blade she
drives it into the ground and she pushes herself into a sitting position.
Looking up fear strikes into her heart at the sight of the three orcs seated
not far from her. The biggest of them catching sight of her. Smiling a fanged
tooth smile he gestures to the other two and gets slowly to his feet, drawing
his curved scimitar as he does.
“Should’ve stayed down bitch. We might have
let you live if you had.” Ignoring the pain in her leg she pushes her self
to her feet and hefts the sword in front of her. A wave of dizziness washes
over her as a fresh wave of blood runs down her leg from the gash on her thigh.
Staggering backward slightly, she trembles as the orcs begin to approach, all
three hefting their weapons menacingly. Closing her eyes and waiting for the
final blow, she offers up a silent prayer to the old gods. Hearing the sound of
bow twang brings her back to reality. Opening her eyes, she sees an arrow
pierce the eye of the left-most orc. With a shout a young beast-man comes
charging from the tree line. His ears flat against his head. Mere feet from the
orc he draws two small, wickedly curved daggers from his belt. Ducking under the
first orcs swing he drives his first dagger into its chest. Using his momentum
he jumps up and drives the second into the side of its neck. Ripping it free in
a spray of green blood. Dropping his daggers he pulls the scimitar free from
the orcs hand and in the same movement swings it at the third orc. Stunned at
the young man’s appearance the third orc doesn’t even move as the blade embeds
deep into his skull. Leaping away from the orcs, the young man watches as the
orc collapses in a heap before retrieving his second dagger. Wiping them clean
in the orcs clothes he returns them to his belt and turns to face the woman. At
that moment her injuries gain the best of her and she swoons. Moving with
incredible speed, he catches her before she falls to the ground. Carefully
placing his arms underneath her, he lifts her clear off the ground as if she
and her armour weighed nothing. Carrying her to the nearby river he places her
down just next to the water. Leaving her sitting there he walks over to the
place he appeared and retrieves a small pack from the bushes. As he walks back
she sizes him up. The ears on his head twitch as if listening to everything
around. Eyes larger than a normal human and a tail that sways behind him.
Mesmerised by its movements she stares,
“Stop ogling my tail, please. It makes me
uncomfortable.” His deep voice startles her as he opens the pack. Pulling
a clean shirt from it he tears it into strips. Soaking one part in the river he
comes over and begins cleaning her wounds with surprising gentleness. When he
reaches her face, her eyes meet his as he washes a cut on her cheek. For a
moment time stops and her heart catches in her chest. Before sending a wave of
heat to her face. Ignoring it she asks him a question.
“Why did you save me? I thought beast
people didn’t get involved in the affairs of other races. Especially humans.”
Pondering her question for a moment he stops what he’s doing and sits down on a
rock opposite her.
“Normally we don’t. But I’ve been tracking
that party of orc for four days. Their part of a larger force that sacked a
village east of here. A village we often traded with. They left none alive.
Just left them in the streets for the carrion to pick clean. The rest of the
beast people thought it unwise to get involved. But I’m unlike them. Those orcs
are from a small clan that resides deep in the southern mountains. Near the Deepspire
Cleft. They haven’t been seen this far north in centuries. The fact that they have
come from their territories is more than a cause for concern. Orcs roam in
greater numbers and places that should have remained empty are once again
filling with all manner of dark things. The forest whispers. Something that has
not been seen in an age is coming. And what if you? It’s rare to see a woman
from the southern isles all the way here in the cold north.”
“How’d you know I was from the isles?”
“Your hair is gold in colour. Match that
with your accent and your darker skin. It’s easy.” Smiling she goes to
respond but a wave of nausea overcomes her. Tilting to the side she brings up
the contents of her stomach onto the ground. Swaying once more she begins to
topple but the beast-man catches her once more. Placing his palm on her
forehead, he dips one finger into the wound on her leg and licks the blood off.
Spitting it back out almost instantly, he curses.
“Dammit. Poison. Stay with me woman. You’re
not dying on me today.” Speaking in his language he yells into the forest.
Looking around, her consciousness fades as two more beast people emerge from the
trees.
