Page 22 of Agor

“You’d break my spirit, destroy my will to live, and at the end, you’d get bored with the meek, apathetic creature that I would become. Do you really think that’d be fun for either of us?”

He grunted and sat down on the snake’s neck next to me. His weight squeezed the dead flesh with a fresh gush of blood from the wound on the body, but he paid it no attention.

This wasn’t the best place for a heart-to-heart conversation. I had no desire to linger around here or spend another minute in the company of the orc who fantasized about throwing me over his shoulder and dragging me into sex slavery.

“I’d better go.” I got up slowly, wary of his reaction to my departure.

Ata raised her head, her pointy ears standing up. A low growl reverberated deep in her throat as a warning to me.

I froze in my tracks.

“You’re a good girl, Ata,” I said carefully. “Can you explain to your master that I’m not a feral dog to be tamed?”

The hound lowered her head, keeping her eyes on me. Flicking her ear in Agor’s direction, she waited for a command from him.

Agor heaved a heavy sigh, running a hand down his face.

“Fine.” He got up too. “I’ll walk you back to your village.”

I watched him closely, half-expecting a ruse.

“I have a knife,” I replied. “I don’t need an escort.”

Agor tipped his chin at the Irg’s feet sticking out from the hydra’s mouth. “Hehad a knife too. Didn’t help him, did it? There is more where this hydra came from.” He kicked one of the long necks crisscrossing the ground by the swamp. “You do need an escort to improve your chances of getting back safely.”

It was hard to argue with that in the face of all the evidence of the night forest’s dangers. It wouldn’t hurt to have a huge, burly orc with me for protection, as long as his intentions truly were to protect me.

He made no move to fight or grab me, however, so I conceded, “All right, let’s move then. My feet are getting cold from standing around.”

I took a step forward.

“This way.” He pointed to the left of the path I was about to take. “And you need boots made from the skin of the purple crested alligator to keep your feet dry around here.” He scowled at my soggy boots. “Cow leather doesn’t keep well in our weather.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind,” I said, to humor him.

Purple crested alligators were vicious, giant beasts that lived far south of here. They came this far north only in the middle of summer. And even then, a human had a much higher chance of being eaten by one than to make boots out of them.

I figured there was no need for Agor to trick me and lead me back to the orcs’ keep instead of the human settlement. If he wanted to force me into his bed, he could’ve just grabbedme already and carried me there, and there wouldn’t be much I could do to stop him. I decided to trust him this time, following him along as the dog ran a few paces ahead of us.

“This path is on a higher ground,” he explained. “It stays away from the biggest, most dangerous bogs. It’ll add about an hour to our journey. But I take it you’d rather walk a little longer than fight more bog hydras or possibly a pack of spider-rats.”

“Walking is fine.” I nodded quickly, keeping as close to him as the width of the path allowed, just in case.

Spider-rats?I hadn’t even heard of such creatures. I certainly didn’t wish to fight them. Or even see them.

The drying hydra’s blood crusted over my clothes, itching my skin. I scratched my wrist.

“Listen,” I said, “does this path run anywhere close to a pond or a river, preferably with no monsters living in it? I would love to wash some of this gore off, please.”

“Will a creek do?”

I nodded.

We reached a small creek just a little while later. After we both washed the blood and mud off our hands and faces the best we could, I glanced back in the direction of the swamp and the dead bodies we’d left in the bog.

“Did you know those two orcs?” I asked.

“Yes.”

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