Page 8 of The Orc Who Saved Christmas

With a roar that shakes the snow from the branches above, I lunge forward. My axe sings through the air. The first wolf barelyhas time to register my presence before the blade bites into its flank, spraying crimson across the pristine white.

The pack turns on me, snapping and snarling, but I am fury incarnate. A wolf lunges, its jaws clamping around my arm. Pain flares, bright and hot, but I refuse to yield. With a snarl of my own, I wrench the beast free and hurl it to the ground with enough force to crack the ice beneath. My axe descends, silencing its growls forever.

Claire, wide-eyed and trembling, swings a heavy branch at another wolf. "Stay back!" she shouts again, her voice surprisingly strong.

The remaining wolves, wise enough to recognize defeat, slink back into the forest. I lean on my axe, the adrenaline beginning to ebb, leaving only the biting chill of the wind and the throbbing ache in my arm.

Claire rushes to my side,her hands fluttering over the wound. "You're hurt!" she cries.

I pull away instinctively, but her determined gaze holds me in place. "It's nothing," I growl, trying to convince myself as much as her.

She insists we return to the cave, half-dragging me despite her smaller size. "You're more stubborn than a mountain troll," I mutter, but there's no real heat behind the words.

Once we return and are inside the cave, she rummages through my supplies with the efficiency of someone well-acquainted with hardship. Her hands move deftly as she prepares a poultice, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"You're lucky I know a thing or two about healing," she says. "What were you thinking, running after wolves like that?"

I watch her, confusion warring with the strange warmth that spreads through my chest at her concern. "You worry too much," I reply.

She looks up at me, her eyes bright with unshed tears, and says, "Of course I worry. You saved my life—again. The least I can do is care about yours."

Her words hang in the air between us, and I find myself at a loss for a response. No one has worried about me since... I can't even remember. I'm an orc, a former warrior—self-sufficiency is in my blood. And yet, here is this human woman, fretting over me as if I matter.

After she finishes tending to my wound, I stand up, the cave suddenly feeling too small. "I'll take you back to your settlement," I say.

Her face lights up, the fatigue and fear momentarily forgotten. "Thank you, Thrag," she says, her smile radiant. "You're... you're amazing."

I grunt in response, feeling a flush creep up my neck. Her gratitude is unsettling, and the way she holds onto my arm, her body so close to mine, sends my heart pounding wildly.

"We'll leave tomorrow,"I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "We need to prepare."

I abruptly step out into the cold, leaving Claire behind in the warmth of the fire. The snow crunches beneath my boots, the sound a welcome distraction from the tumultuous thoughts swirling in my mind.

What is this strange feeling that claws at my insides whenever I look at her?

9

CLAIRE

The dawn's pale light seeps through the canopy of snow-laden trees. Thrag and I set off for my settlement. Our breaths crystallize immediately in the frigid air. I pull my scarf tighter around my face, the cold seeping through my layers of clothing.

"My settlement can't be that far, right?" I ask, my voice hopeful as I glance over at Thrag. He strides beside me, his large form cutting a path through the snow.

He grunts in response, his amber eyes scanning the horizon. "Depends on how far you wandered," he says.

We press onward, the snow crunching beneath our boots. The sky above us is a canvas of swirling grays. The first flakes of a brewing storm begin to fall. I can't help but feel a twinge of despair as we find only the tracks of animals and not humans.

Thrag seems unperturbed. His gaze is focused and unyielding. "Don't worry," he assures me, his voice cutting through the silence. "As long as we keep moving and the snow doesn't get too thick, we'll find your people."

I nod and force a smile. The burden of our journey bears down on me. But I refuse to let it show. Instead, I try to lighten the mood with conversation.

"You know," I say, my smile growing, "for someone who doesn't talk much, you're surprisingly good company."

Thrag glances at me, his expression unreadable. "I'm not here for company," he retorts gruffly. "I'm here to protect you."

His words spark a warmness in me, despite the bitter cold outside. There's something comforting about his presence, his unwavering determination to keep me safe. It's a feeling I'm not entirely used to, but one I find myself growing fond of.

We stop to rest, and I rummage through Thrag's supplies. Inside his pouch, I find a few strips of dried meat and a small selection of herbs—thyme, perhaps, and some wild mint.

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