Page 25 of Agor

“How are you calling me old? I’m the same age as you.”

“Hey...” He lifted both hands in a defensive gesture. “Those were your words, not mine.”

“Right. Well, no, I don’t have a husband or any close family, for that matter. My parents didn’t survive the journey across the valley, like many others from our caravan. But I have friends, people I grew up with, and their children. They are my family, my community, my home. Since I learned how to use a weapon, I’ve been protecting them from...” I glanced at him before adding softly, “from the likes of you.”

He moved his wide shoulders under my stare and said nothing.

“Promise me,” I implored, “that my people won’t get hurt during your fight for that chief mace.”

He shook his head. “I can’t promise you that.”

Of course he couldn’t. That was the thing about a war, no one could predict what would happen, who would live or who would die at the end.

“How long do you think we’ll still have peace?” I asked.

He studied my crestfallen expression in the murky pre-sunrise light.

“The war is not a given yet. I intend to keep both the Head Chief’s mace and the peace in the wetlands for as long as possible.”

That seemed as much reassurance as I would get from him.

“All right then.” I gestured with my thumb over my shoulder. “We’ve just passed the cranberry patch clearing. I know where I am now. The sun is rising. I should be fine from here on. You can turn back.”

But he shook his head. “I’ll walk you to the tree line.”

“There is no need,” I insisted, afraid some early bird from the settlement might spot me strolling casually through the woods with an orc. How would I explain it to anyone at home?

“All right.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “When can I see you again?”

“Are you serious? Why do we have to see each other ever again?”

“Because I want to.”

In his mind of the High Chief, that was a good enough reason for anything, I imagined.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to see each other again, Agor. Humans and orcs don’t date.”

“Date?”

He looked puzzled, and I felt like kicking myself for the slip-up of that word. Agor never said anything aboutdating. He probably just had a revenge fuck in mind, to get even with me for tying him up.

“Right... Well, I better go,” I mumbled, backing away from him. “Thanks for walking me. You should go now. You have a long way back. And it’s best if you don’t come here again.”

I reached for him, unsure what for. To shake his hand? To give him a goodbye hug? Both these options seemed ridiculous, and I dropped my arms.

“You still didn’t tell me your name,” he said.

“What for?” I shrugged. “Bye, Ata.” I waved at the dog. “You really are a good girl. I wish we could be friends, but well...”

I turned around and left.

BEHIND OUR FLIMSY FENCE, the settlement was just waking up. Only Faeena was outside of her wagon already, washing linen in the chipped wooden tub. Relief flooded my chest at the sight of her being well and alive.

A long line of washed sheets, towels, and kids’ clothes already stretched from her wagon to the high pole of the fence. Faeena slept little and worked hard, making a lot of women in the settlement envious of how clean her wagon always was, how she always managed to cook something eatable and even appetizing from the scarce and boring ingredients we scraped together, or how she found the time to embroider all her daughters’ clothes with pretty flowers and butterflies.

Maybe a part of why Faeena and I stayed such good friends for this long was because I never tried to compete with her for the title of the best housewife. Right now, I fully intended to sleep for the next twenty-four hours straight, all my chores be damned.

“Becca!” Faeena gasped, dropping the freshly wrung-out shirt back into the tub. “You’re alive!”

---