Page 11 of The Orc Outcast's Conquest

His elbow slammed into a stone, and pain ricocheted up his arm. The distraction was nearly his doom. A hidden boulder under the surface crushed his ribs and caused him to lose his breath. He went under, and his throat flooded with the crisp, icy water.

His pack floated, and he clung to it. It was the only thing that kept him alive.

Govek fought and pushed back the agony.

He choked on hard-won air.

A branch slashed his cheek, and he snatched it up. Water sprayed around his face and shoulder as he hung from the limb.

Thankfully, it held.

He clutched his lifeline and pulled his way to the bank. Bramble caught him at the edge, and rocks abraded his tattered flesh.

He lived. Fuck.

His chest heaved, so heavy it burned, and his vision blurred, but he found the strength to hoist himself up. He pushed through the blackberry patch using his pack as a shield. Every breath was agony, sharp and potent.

Sitting down to examine himself, he found his ribs were cracked.

Wrenching his pack open, Govek gripped one of his precious few tinctures, uncorked the vial’s top and downed the bitter liquid in a single gulp. Heat bloomed through his body as the tincture healed him, slowly working its magic.

He was spent. Govek slumped to the muddy ground, taking a moment to catch his breath.

Barking broke the silence. The odor of wolves far too close skewered his senses.

A hunting pack had caught the scent of his blood.

The Fades truly wished him to suffer.

He was up on his feet, sprinting again, rushing through the woods. His legs throbbed and his chest exploded. His mind was in tatters.

Fuck the blight. Fuck the wolves. Fuck the Fades.

With his eyes trained to the sky, he was fathoming up more curses, when an unbelievable sight assaulted him.

A woman—a human woman—appeared out of thin air at the top of the tree line and fell.

Govek froze as she landed in a convenient pile of leaves. They billowed around her, cushioning the drop she’d sustained.

He reeled, confused and thunderstruck. What great magic had conjured her?

And then he was smacked with a devastatingly familiar sensation. It sparked in his veins, danced along his limbs, and clenched around his heart.

He shook his head to clear it and raked hands through his hair.

He must be mistaken. Imprinting did not work like this. It wasn’t possible.

But the instinctual hum in his chest couldn’t be denied.

The wolves bellowed too close. Just off the tree line.

He did not have time to think.

Fades help him.

Chapter

Three

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