Page 15 of The Orc's Stolen Bride

The courtyard burst into a flurry of activity. Warriors rushed to fetch barrels of ale and platters of food. A large fire was assembled in the center of the courtyard and the scent of roasting meat filled the air, mingling with the smoky aroma of the bonfire. His heart filled with pride and affection for his clan. Their resilience never failed to amaze him.

Egon gave him a quick nod, then slipped away to his solitary dwelling. He was uncomfortable with crowds and Wulf had learned long ago not to press him.

As the festivities began in earnest, Wulf found himself caught between joy and guilt. He laughed at Lothar's jokes and clasped arms with his warriors, but his eyes kept drifting back to his dwelling. He wished Kari was here to share this moment, to understand the warmth and camaraderie of his people. And perhaps also to ease his guilt.

The weight of his secret pressed down on him as he watched his warriors laugh and celebrate, hope shining in their eyes for the first time in years. He could only pray that their new found optimism was justified.

He accepted a horn of ale, raising it in a toast with his men, but the strong, bitter liquid did little to wash away the taste of his deception. He retreated a little from the celebration, trying to decide if he could slip away unnoticed, and saw Merow returning. Her serious expression was a stark contrast to the jubilant atmosphere surrounding him and he immediately strode over to meet her.

"Is everything all right?"

"You tell me. I took Kari to the bathhouse, then to your rooms as you requested," Merow said, watching him narrowly.

"You left her there alone?" he asked, unable to keep the worry from his voice, even though he was happy she was in his home at last.

Merow's expression softened slightly.

"The poor thing is exhausted. She fell asleep." Her eyes narrowed, searching his face. "What's going on, Wulf? Who is she? Where did she come from?"

His jaw clenched. He knew the vague explanation he'd given the others wouldn't satisfy Merow. The older woman had always been able to see right through him.

He glanced around, ensuring no one was paying attention to him, then lowered his voice.

"There's more to this than I can explain right now."

Her frown deepened.

"Try. That girl is lost and scared, even if she's trying to hide it."

Guilt gnawed at Wulf's insides. It was his fault - he'd brought her here, torn her from her world. He looked at the older woman's face, her expression stern but not unkind, and gave in to the urge to unburden himself.

He led Merow to a quiet corner of the courtyard, away from the growing revelry around the fire, then took a deep breath.

"I went to the shrine in the mountains and prayed to the Old Gods for help. Not for me," he added hastily. "For our people."

Merow's eyes widened, disapproval etching her weathered features.

“Why did you do such a foolish thing?"

"Because we are dying," he said bluntly. "How many more generations will we survive? Two? Three at best?"

She sighed.

"Prayers to the Gods are a tricky business, Wulf. You of all people should know this."

He nodded, unable to meet her gaze. "I know. Kari... appeared in the lake. She's the answer to my prayer."

The sounds of laughter and celebration intensified around the fire, a stark contrast to the silent tension between them. Merow sighed again, and then her eyes hardened as she looked up at him.

"You need to tell her the truth, Wulf. Now."

"She doesn't understand enough of our language-"

"Nonsense," Merow cut him off, her voice stern. "She understands enough. We were able to communicate quite clearly and she is obviously a fast learner. She deserves to know."

He nodded slowly. As much as he dreaded Kari's reaction, he needed to tell her.

"You're right. As usual," he admitted, and Merow gave him a quick smile.

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