Page 7 of The Orc Who Saved Christmas

Morning light slices through the gloom of Thrag's cave, casting everything in a stark, golden hue. I stir from my fitful sleep, the scent of pine and cold stone heavy in the air. Thrag is already up, a dark silhouette etched against the daylight that spills through the cave's entrance.

"The sun is up," he announces, his voice a low rumble, like distant thunder. "You should leave."

I bite my lip, the taste of copper flooding my mouth. My gaze flits across the snow-blanketed landscape outside, the chill seeping into my bones. "I... don't know how to get back to mysettlement from here," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm lost."

I step forward, the crunch of my boots on the cave floor echoing in the silence. "Can you help me? Please?" I ask. My plea hangs in the air, fragile and desperate.

Thrag shakes his head, his amber eyes hardening like resin. "I have my own problems. Winter is coming. I need supplies," he rumbles in a low voice.

I swallow the lump that forms in my throat, the urge to fidget with my locket nearly overwhelming. "I can stay and help you for a while," I offer quickly, the words tumbling from my lips in a rush. "I'm good at foraging. And cooking." I pause, my heart pounding against my ribcage. "Please..."

He turns away,his jaw clenched tight. "Go. It's safer for you back at your settlement," he growls firmly.

The finality in his tone sends a pang of sorrow through me. I nod, understanding that his decision is as much for my safety as it is for his solitude. With a heavy heart, I trudge out into the snow, my shoulders slumped under the burden of my own helplessness.

The snow crunches beneath my boots as I walk, each step forming a crater in the pristine white blanket that covers the ground. I can't shake the feeling of Thrag's eyes on my back, watching me until I disappear from view.

I walk for hours, or maybe it's days. Time seems to stretch and warp in the vast expanse of the wilderness. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows that dance across the snow-dusted trees.

A sudden, haunting melody pierces the silence—the distant howl of wolves. My blood runs cold, and I freeze in my tracks, mybreath coming out in short, ragged puffs. I turn slowly, my eyes scanning the tree line for any sign of movement.

There, on the crest of a snowy hill, a pack of wolves emerges, their fur bristling against the biting cold. Their eyes are sharp, fixated on me with an eerie intensity. My heart hammers against my ribcage, a frantic drumbeat that echoes in my ears.

I back away slowly, my mind racing with panic. "Think, Claire," I whisper to myself, my breath forming a misty cloud in the frigid air. "What would Thrag do?"

I glance around, searching for something—anything—I can use as a weapon. My hand closes around a sturdy branch half-buried in the snow. I grip it tightly, the bark rough against my palms.

The wolves advance, their movements fluid and sinister. I brandish the branch, my eyes darting between the snarling beasts. "Stay back!" I shout, my voice echoing through the forest.

They keep coming,their growls growing louder with each passing second. I swing the branch wildly, trying to keep them at bay. But I know it's only a matter of time before they overwhelm me.

8

THRAG

The cold wind claws at my face as I stand at the mouth of my cave. I watch Claire as she trudges through the snow, her steps uncertain and faltering.

"She could die out there," I mutter to myself, my jaw tightening as I grip my axe. The weapon feels heavy in my hand. "Not my problem."

But the words taste like ash in my mouth. I've seen enough death to last a dozen lifetimes. I've watched my family butchered, my clan scattered to the winds. I tell myself I'm better off alone, that the pain of loss is a burden no one should bear. Yet, as I watch Claire disappear into the white expanse, something within me stirs—a flicker of something I can't quite name.

Without conscious thought, my feet move, carrying me forward into the biting cold. I follow her at a distance, my massive frame swallowed by the dense woods. "I'm just making sure she gets back to her settlement," I tell myself. "That's all."

The lies come easily, but they do nothing to quiet the pounding of my heart. I've spent months wandering these lands alone, shunning the company of others. And yet, here I am,trailing behind a human female like some love-struck pup. The thought makes me snort in derision.

Claire stumbles, her arms flailing as she tries to regain her balance. She's vulnerable, exposed—a stark contrast to the strength and resilience she showed back at the cave. "Humans are weak," I whisper to the wind, trying to convince myself. "She'll find her way back... or she won't."

But the words feel hollow, and with each step I take, the truth becomes harder to ignore. I'm not following her because I owe her anything. I'm not doing it out of some misguided sense of duty. No, there's something about Claire that draws me to her—something beyond her frailty and the strange, soft light in her eyes.

I keep my distance,my footsteps muffled by the snow. The forest is alive with sounds—the creak of branches, the distant call of a snow owl—but I tune them out, focusing solely on Claire. She pauses, her body tensing as she looks around.

Then I hear it—the unmistakable howl of a winter wolf, its cry echoing through the frozen landscape. My blood runs cold, and without a second thought, I break into a run, my axe at the ready.

Claire turns, her eyes wide with terror as she spots the pack of wolves emerging from the tree line. They're lean and hungry, their yellow eyes fixed on their prey. "Stay back!" she shouts, brandishing a branch like a sword. But her voice wavers, and I know she won't last long on her own.

The wolves circle Claire, their growls a low, menacing rumble that sets my teeth on edge. She screams, scrambling backward.

I can't let her die.

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