Page 16 of The Orc Who Saved Christmas

Gratitude and fear war within me. Thrag has once again placed himself in harm's way for us—strangers to his kind. "We have to warn the others," I say, already moving towards the door.

He shakes his head, a grimace of pain crossing his features. "They won't believe me. I'm an orc," he mutters.

I pause briefly, turning back to him. "I will convince them," I promise, my resolve as steady as the beat of my heart.

Within minutes, I stand before the elders, a knot of anxiety twisting in my gut. The council room is filled with the somber faces of our leaders, their skepticism palpable.

"Claire," Elder Mara says, her voice tinged with concern. "You ask us to trust the word of an orc?"

I nod, my hands clasped tightly in front of me. "I know it's difficult to believe, but Thrag has risked his life to protect us. He fought off a group of Icefang orcs who planned to raid our settlement," I say firmly.

Murmurs of disbelief ripple through the room, but I press on, undeterred. "He's not our enemy. Thrag has shown us more kindness than we could have hoped for," I continue.

Elder Vincent, a man who has always been kind to me, leans forward, his eyes serious. "And why should we trust this... orc?" he asks skeptically.

I take a deep breath,meeting his gaze. "Because he has no reason to lie. Because he's saved my life—our children's lives—more than once," I say emphatically.

The room falls silent, the gravity of my words hanging heavy in the air for a long moment. Finally, Elder Vincent nods, his expression solemn. "We will hear what he has to say," he replies.

I breathe a sigh of relief, and quickly rush back home to get Thrag.

17

THRAG

The snow crunches under my boots, each tentative step leaving a deep imprint in the white blanket that covers the settlement. My body aches, muscles protesting every movement, but I won't let it show. Pride is all I have left, and I'll be damned if I let these humans see me falter.

Claire walks beside me, her arm linked through mine, a silent pillar of support. Her touch is light, but I feel it like a brand against my skin. She's a beacon of warmth in this frozen wasteland, and for a moment, I forget that I'm an orc, a beast among these humans.

The settlement is a hive of activity, with villagers casting wary glances our way. Children clutch at their mothers' skirts, their eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and terror. I see myself reflected in their gazes—a monster.

"Through here," Claire says as she guides me toward a wooden building that houses their council. The weight of my axe is a familiar comfort on my back, its presence a stark reminder of the world I come from.

The council room is cramped. The air is thick with the stench of old wood and stale sweat. The leader, Vincent, and the elderssit at a worn table. Their expressions range from suspicion to outright hostility. I plant my axe beside me, the blade sinking into the wooden floor with a satisfying thud.

"Icefangs," I growl, my voice echoing off the walls. "They're coming. Your settlement will burn."

The room erupts into murmurs, but one elder—a gaunt figure with a sneer—leans forward, his eyes narrowed. "How do we know you didn't lead them here yourself?" he accuses.

My hand itches toward my axe, but I resist the urge to gut him where he sits. "If I wanted you dead," I say, my voice a low rumble, "you already would be."

Claire bursts into the room, her cheeks flushed with anger. "Stop it! He saved us—twice! How can you accuse him?" she asks, outraged.

The accusation stings more than I care to admit. I lower my gaze, the weight of their suspicion a heavy mantle on my shoulders.

Claire steps closer, her voice softening. "Thank you for coming back and warning us, Thrag," she whispers.

Vincent massages his temples. He soon interjects, his voice laced with resignation. "How are we supposed to survive this? Our walls won’t hold, and we can’t fight them."

I glance at the small children peeking through the door frame, their eyes wide with fear. "You can't," I say bluntly. "You'll have to leave."

The room falls into a heavy silence, the gravity of my words settling over them like a shroud. I watch as they grapple with the reality of their situation, their faces pale.

My chest tightens in frustration. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come back,” I mutter under my breath.

I'm about to turn away when Claire's hand wraps around my wrist. Her touch is a jolt of warmth in the icy room. "Wait," she implores, her eyes locking onto mine with a fierce intensity.

"You can help us," she insists, her fingers tightening around my wrist.

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