Page 36 of The Orc Who Saved Christmas

Vincent and Alfonso join me, their expressions grave but resolute. "We'll need to work quickly," Alfonso says, his hands steady as he assesses Thrag's injuries.

I allow myself a brief moment of relief. Thrag is not out of danger yet, but for the first time since this ordeal began, I feel a glimmer of hope.

I turn to Vincent, my eyes brimming with tears. "Thank you," I say, my voice choked with gratitude. "For standing up for him. For giving him a chance."

Vincent places a comforting hand on my shoulder. "It was the right thing to do," he says simply. "And besides, I've seen the way you look at him. The way he looks at you. Love like that... it's worth fighting for."

Then, Alfonso places his weathered hand on my other shoulder. "This is the spirit of Christmas, child," he says, his voice steady despite the turmoil surrounding us. "Thrag is ourSanta, not just for the children but for all of us. Saving him is the greatest gift we could give him."

The villagers, once divided by fear and suspicion, now move with a singular purpose, their actions a testament to the unity Alfonso's wisdom inspires. Even Samuel, filled with deep remorse, helps in the quest to save Thrag. They carry Thrag's massive, unconscious form to Alfonso's hut nearby. I refuse to leave his side, my fingers brushing against Thrag's as I whisper, "Please, wake up. Please."

Inside the hut, the air is thick with the scent of herbs and the tension of our collective anxiety. Alfonso's hands move with practiced precision as he stitches wounds and applies salves, his concentration unbroken even as sweat beads on his furrowed brow.

I watch, helpless, as the old man works tirelessly to mend the damage wrought by the battle. My own hands clench and unclench in my lap, the urge to do something—anything—to alleviate Thrag's pain nearly overwhelming.

The night wears on, the flickering candlelight casting long, dancing shadows across the hut's interior. Outside, the villagers keep watch, their vigilance a silent vow to protect Thrag.

Alfonso finally leans back, his work complete for the moment. He meets my gaze, his eyes reflecting a sorrow tempered by hope. "We've done all we can for now," he says softly. "The rest is up to him—and fate."

I swallow hard, my throat tight with unshed tears. "Thank you, Alfonso," I whisper, my voice barely louder than the whispering flames of the hearth. "For everything."

As the old man leaves the room to rest, I am left alone with Thrag, save for the soft, rhythmic sound of his labored breathing. I reach out, gently tracing the contours of his face.

"You can't leave me now, Thrag," I murmur, my words a silent prayer to whatever higher power might be listening. "Notwhen I've only just found you. Not when we have so much left to discover—about each other, about this world, about the future we could build together."

I think back to the first time I saw him, his imposing figure cutting through the snow-laden forest with a grace that belied his formidable size. I remember the fear that had coiled in my stomach, the assumption that he, like the other orcs I had encountered, was a threat to be avoided at all costs.

But Thrag had proven me wrong, his actions time and again revealing a depth of character and an inner strength that had nothing to do with brute force. He had become my protector, my confidant, my partner in navigating the tumultuous waters of our shared existence.

And now, as I sit vigil by his side, I realize with a clarity that pierces my very soul that I love him—fully, unconditionally, and with a passion that ignites a fire within me.

With renewed resolve, I vow to remain by his side, to be his anchor in the storm that rages around us. I will be there when he wakes, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead, together.

Because that iswhat love is—a promise, a commitment, a bond that transcends the boundaries of race, of caste, of the very world itself.

37

THRAG

My body feels like it's been hit by a boulder, each movement a harsh reminder of the battle I barely survived. Groaning, I try to push myself up, but a searing pain in my side forces me back down. The room spins, and for a moment, I wonder if I've been dragged into the afterlife. "Am I... dead?" I ask aloud. My voice is a raw croak, the words barely recognizable.

A sharp intake of breath cuts through the fog in my head, and I squint through the haze. Claire's face swims into view, her eyes filled with tears. Her hands are cold against my skin, but the warmth in her touch anchors me to the present. "You’re awake!" she breathes out.

Claire’s relief pours out in sobs as she leans over me, her forehead resting against mine. "You scared me," she whispers. "It’s been three days. I thought I’d lost you."

Still feeling confused, I look around the room out of the corner of my eyes. I'm lying in a strange bed, the walls of the hut lined with herbs and medical supplies. It's cramped and smells of the earth, but it's shelter—and it's where she's been. "Three days? Christmas... I ruined it?" I ask, my voice reflecting my confusion.

Claire lets out a watery chuckle, shaking her head. "No, you big idiot. I don’t care about Christmas. I care about you," she says softly.

My brow furrows, confusion still clouding my thoughts. Why does she care so much for someone like me—an orc, a former warrior, a wanderer with no home? "I... I didn't realize how deeply you felt," I manage to say, my voice but a whisper.

Claire pulls back slightly, her gaze locked onto mine. "I love you very much, Thrag," she says, her words steady and sure. "Unconditionally. Forever and always."

The intensity of her gaze, the raw honesty in her voice—it's too much, yet not enough. My heart thunders in my chest, responding to her declaration with an undeniable truth of my own. "I love you too, Claire," I say, the words feeling right, like the missing piece of a puzzle I never knew was incomplete.

I try to move to hold her, but my body protests in pain. But that pain is eclipsed by a warmth in my chest I've never felt before. Her words, that declaration of love, has seeped into my very soul.

"You've shown me more kindness and generosity than I thought possible in this harsh world. You make me want to be better, to heal, to protect," I say to her. "But I must ask you?—"

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