Page 32 of The Orc Outcast's Conquest

Govek curled up then, finding a position in which he could relax while she still gripped him. He allowed his thoughts to grow heavy. He’d almost died today. Boar, wolves, poison...

He fell unconscious with the heavy knowledge that this woman had saved him multiple times.

A sharp gasp instantly brought him out of slumber. The dim light of morning assaulted his dreary gaze.

There was a pressure against his palm, a scramble, and finally, a sudden chill.

The woman. She’d let him go and left him.

Blast! The sleep had done her a great service. Her eyes were bright and her coloring had returned, bringing a subtle pink to her cheeks and lips. She was a welcome sight.

“Y-you’re real.”

A heavy sigh escaped him as he took in their surroundings. There didn’t seem to be any predators about, though most were not stupid enough to threaten an orc. The day would be clear once the morning fog burned away.

He would make good time on his way to the Warlord.

“O-oh gosh. God. Sorry.” Miranda pressed a palm to her forehead. “I’m just... all out of it. I... I’m...” She paused, seemed to be distracted, staring up at the trees again. The brambles and thickets. Reverence and confusion. This expression had fallen over her features many times the day before, and Govek was uncertain if he would ever grow accustomed to it.

He reached for his pack and sifted through it, making difficult choices over what he wanted to keep and what he would send with his female.

The female. Fuck.

She gulped hard. “Are you okay? How do you feel?”

“I am fine,” Govek snapped, getting to his feet. He was stiff from being in the same position for so long.

“Wow. You really are green.”

He snorted, wryly amused.

“W-what are you again? An orc?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” She took deep breaths. “Okay, okay.”

She wandered off a few paces, shivering. The vile urge to offer his own cloak to her bellowed in him. He went to her pack instead, abandoned near the fire. It had almost nothing in it. The crisp blue was haunting against the soil and the slick texture was like nothing he’d ever touched before.

This woman was not his mystery to solve. This is where they would part ways.

He shoved her pack into his own, determined to forget it ever existed and held his belongings out to her. “Take this.”

She hesitated, and then hefted the bag onto her shoulder. Its weight strained her and his heart thundered as if trying to work against his own mind.

He gestured to the west, calculating how fast she might travel. “Two days’ walk and you will come across Baytton.” He hoped Baytton was still there. Rove Wood Clan had no contact with human villages outside of Oakwall. Tavggol had been working tirelessly to build peaceful trade with another, only to have his plans go up in deadly, horrific smoke.

Smoke that had choked out his life far too soon.

Govek fisted his claws so his female would not see them and set about extinguishing what remained of the fire. “Baytton is a human village and has high walls. You will be safe there.”

“You . . . you’re . . . what?”

She was shaking more violently now, and Govek tried not to look at her. His instinct to aid her was shrill. “As long as you do not mention to the Waking Order you were in the company of an orc, they will welcome you.” Better yet. “Or tell them you found me poisoned and finished me off. Stole my belongings.” They may question her about his clan and the whereabouts of his body, but not harshly.

“No,” she said as he dug handfuls of damp soil and threw them onto the embers. They sizzled and popped in protest before going out with a final puff of smoke.

“You can’t . . . I won’t let you . . . you can’t just leave me here.”

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