Page 51 of Bound to the Orc Renegade

“No, we cannot,” Storm snaps. “We’re too exposed here. What if they weren’t alone?”

“Relax, unicorn.” Mist limps over. “If they had backup, they would have used it by now. Ogres don’t do restraint.”

I grunt and catch the unicorn’s eye. “Mist makes a good point.”

“Of course I do.”

“But,” I raise my voice, “so does Storm. We should get to shelter.”

Taylor looks around at the wide open space in front of the hexagonal cliff. “Or at least a more defensible place. Let me get the medical supplies to get you ready to move.” She stands to trot over to where we left the saddlebags.

I roll my head from side to side. All of our foes lay still on the ground. I catch Storm’s eye. “What happened to the ogres?”

“Mine’s taken care of.” He swishes his horn through the air, the last several inches of it black with ogre blood. “And the one you caught in the throat is dead. But one got away.”

“Let me guess.” I scowl. “The one with the diagonal scar across his torso.”

“He scampered into the trees as soon as he regained his feet.”

I look at Mist. “And the kelpies?”

She raises a paw and gives it a lazy lick, extending sharp claws. “Not an issue.”

I grunt. At least the cowardly ogre won’t have a mount to aid his journey. Yet part of me knows he won’t give up until he has my moon bound bride. I only saved her this time because I had such good warrior training from my mother. And because I had such good battle mates. “Thank you both.”

“Taylor did a lot of it, even if she didn’t strike every killing blow,” Mist says.

“Every?” My bride returns with the saddlebag, her expression tightening. “You mean I… I killed someone?”

“You can claim one kill as your own.” Mist’s paw jabs toward one of the downed kelpies.

Taylor doesn’t say anything as she digs out the medical pack Gerna made for me. Having an herbalist for a sister does come in handy.

I sit up and hiss as a mixture of pain and pressure pinches my thigh. The axe is gone from the wound, but it bleeds slowly because someone tied a tourniquet around the leg above it.

Reaching out, I pluck up one of her busy hands to make her look at me, her beautiful brown eyes troubled. “It is the reality of battle. Victory can only belong to you or your foe. Never regret that you are the one to live.”

“Thanks.” She offers me a wavering smile, her upbeat nature trying to shine through. “I’ve done it a million times in games, but never…” She stops, her eyes darting to the bodies all around until I give her hand a little squeeze that returns her attention to me. “Never for real.”

Then she pulls her hand from mine to unpack supplies, her movements fast and focused.

“Do we have time for this?” Storm asks. “The deathsleep dispersed. We can travel through the passage now.”

“We’re making time.” My moon bound frowns up at him. “Krivoth can’t ride like this! He’ll bleed out.”

“Maybe not.” I shove at the ground, trying to rise, and she claps a hand to my shoulder and leans with all her weight against it until I settle back onto the grass.

Taylor offers me a wry twist of her lips and says, “Sorry about this.” Then she uses the knife I gave her to slice open the hole the axe left in my leather pants. Her hands are as gentle as can be as she uses water and the magic of the cleaning cloth to clean the wound. Under my instructions, she packs it with the strongest healing salve my sister makes and sews it shut with rather uneven stitches.

“That’s going to scar,” Mist looks over from licking one of her own wounds.

“Sorry,” Taylor grimaces and waves the needle. “I did a whole first aid certification for a game once, so I learned a lot of theory, but that’s not the same as actually having todothis kinda stuff.”

“You’re doing well,” I say.

Storm adds, “If doing it a little slowly.”

It’s untrue—if anything, her movements seem rather fast and driven.

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