Page 44 of Lost to the Orcs

But loud noises seem to be especially trying for the child and it makes my heart squeeze. So even though my throat is raw and my lungs ache even a week later, I sing to my child. He is soothed by my song. So unless I am forced, usually by my mates, because Shalk can’t do much but glower at me, I sing. All hours of the day that I am awake.

Today is the third day of the second week. I heard the rain let up in the middle of last but it might be starting back up again. I shudder. Swallowing my fear. I can’t let anyone feel or smell it.

Shalk eyes me from his seated position outside of my door. He is essentially my nursemaid, even though his seated position makes him look like a guard. It’s only because every time he sets foot in my room I feel my hackles rising and I can’t help but growl at him.

Right then I am trying not to wrap myself around my traumatized child but know that my smell eases something in his chest.I swallow between a verse, but before I can continue, I hear a very silent; “Och.” My head jerks up but only Shalk is in the doorway. His gaze weary.

“Did you cough?” I ask with a frown.

He shakes his head. “No.” His voice is so soft, I can barely hear him. But before I can shout ‘you can talk?!’ he murmurs, “Ask forgiveness for deceiving.” He bows his head, regret etched into his features. “Feared you were like Sumira. Hateful. Bitter. But naught. Sweet. Kind. To chieftains. Forgive me.”

I pick my mouth up off the floor, before giving him a jerky nod. “No. I don’t blame you. You’re fine Shalk. You’ve obviously suffered from numerous battl–

“Och.” He shakes his head. “No.Adfura. One.”

I blink at him. My shock and horror likely plain on my face. I had expected this male to have been maimed over a series of battles. But he’s saying one. He was inone battle. What is wrong with people? “That’s awful. What happened? How outnumbered were you to even–” He shakes his head once more.

“Adfura.” He murmurs again with another shake of his head. “One.”

“One ma–

“Woman.” He growls and then coughs. Massaging his throat. As if speaking hurts him. And with a scar like that, it probably does.

“Please, let it be. We can speak of this another time.”

He frowns disapprovingly before nodding. “U’snar will tell. He has permission.”

My brows wing up with my obvious surprise.Permission? “I’ll be sure to tell him. Thank you, Shalk. I appreciate you caring for us these past days.”

Shalk puts his hand up as if to ward off my praise. “You are pained. Sorrow, fear. ‘Ave deep roots. Not alone. Must learn to cope.”

A shudder runs through me. Learn to cope? Can I? I swallow my fear once more. No. Not now. Later. I can’t even think about it without feeling as if–NO. I give him a strained smile, “I’ll try.”

He snorts. But I’m saved a reply because Arawn starts whimpering in his sleep. I start humming a song, pressing myself against him so that he feels the vibrations throughmy chest. Eventually, blissful dreamless sleep takes me.

~~~~~

When I wake, U’snar is gently caressing my cheek with his large hand. Shuffling the wayward hairs against it back towards the rest of my matted mess. I bask in the feeling, purring almost delightedly before my throat screams in pain as I create the sound and it putters off. My arms instinctively tighten but it’s then that I realize my child is not there. As the panic sets in U’snar hums softly for me. Filling my chest with warmth and ease.

“He is with Jaedason.” My body relaxes into the nest. That primal part of my brain murmurs how good of a mate Jaedason is. That he will keep our child safe. “I come in ‘he nest?” U’snar asks. That is when I notice, he’s kneeling on the floor not even touching the nest. Have I beenthatterritorial and protective of Arawn? I nod and the big male, crawls over me to wrap his arms around me, our bodies facing the doorway.

I swallow and wince, when U’snar grabs a cup of warm tea and brings it to my lips. I sip slowly but gratefully. “Thank you.” I murmur hoarsely.

“You need rest too, Little Lost.” He admonishes me.

“I’m fine.” The words are quick out of my mouth. As if to assure him of their truthfulness.

I can almost feel him rolling his eyes. “Ach, no, youer no’. Youer hurting. In pain.” What does it matter when Arawn can’t even go outside because he’s afraid? What does my pain matter when—

“What does it matter?” My hoarse voice gives it an almost desperate edge. As if I am on the verge of breaking. Am I?

U’snar’s arms tighten about me. “Matters t’ me. T’ Jaedason. Arawn. You matter. T’ Us.” My sniff is loud and I bite my lip. I can’t. I can’t do this. I just can’t.

“I can’t do this, U’s. If I fall apart–who is going to sing to Arawn? Who would–I can’t. I have to be strong! Like I've always been. Like I’ve always had to. It’s the only way I can move forward. If I bury it deep, I can focus on Arawn. I’m fine. And if I’m truly not? Then I will be. I just need to bury itdeeper…”

His grip is like a vice. A snake crushing me every time I move. Only, it’s every time I deny him my voice. Acknowledgment of my pain. And then, right after he takes a deep breath, he sighs. Instead of atirade, a demand for me to stop. To just talk. To not be so stupid. He sighs. “Little Lost?”

“Mmm?”

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