Page 14 of Her Rugged Orcs

"Left here," Murok whispers, consulting the mental map he's built. Clever bastard never misses a detail.

Eira stumbles on the slick stones, and I steady her with an arm around her waist. She's so small against me, but there's steel in her spine. Something stirs deep within me.

The tunnel narrows again, forcing us to move single file. I hate having her out of arm's reach. The sound of dripping water echoes off the stone walls, masking any approaching footsteps.

"Here," Murok announces, stopping at a heavy iron door. The key slides in with a satisfying click.

Fresh air hits us like a punch to the gut. The night sky stretches above us, scattered with stars I haven't seen in days. Freedom tastes sweet, but not as sweet as the knowledge that Eira's coming with us.

She takes a deep breath of clean air, her shoulders straightening. Even covered in blood and grime, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And she's mine to protect now.

The scrape of boots on stone makes me whirl around. Our pit allies emerge from the sewer exit, their eyes fixed on Eira with hungry intent. My blood turns to molten steel in my veins.

"Time to collect on that promise," one of them drawls, reaching for her.

A growl rips from my chest, primal and deadly. I step in front of Eira, my muscles coiling tight. "Deal's off."

"But she said?—"

"She's mine." The words come out like thunder. My hand tightens on my axe, still dripping with guard blood. "Anyone who touches her dies screaming."

Murok shifts beside me, his stance ready for violence. Dren melts from the shadows, and the sight of all three of us must paint quite the picture because their faces drain of color.

"We helped you escape," another protests weakly.

"And you'll live to tell about it if you leave. Now."

They look at each other, weighing their odds. Smart ones start backing away first. The rest follow quickly when I bare my teeth in a savage grin. They scatter into the darkness.

"We need to move," I urge, guiding her into the shadows of the forest.

Every step takes us further from that hell, but I know we're not safe yet. Won't be for a long time. Don't care. I'll kill anyone who tries to take her back there.

10

MUROK

The forest swallows us in shadows as I lead our group through the dense undergrowth. My braids catch on low branches, but I don't slow down. Can't afford to. The cool night air carries the scent of pine and decay – perfect for masking our trail.

"Keep moving. They'll notice we're gone soon enough." I scan the treeline, mapping our route in my head. Southeast seems safest – the dark elves control the northern territories.

Behind me, Eira's breathing comes in sharp bursts. She's keeping up, but barely.

I spot some mud ahead. "Through there. The stream will hide our tracks, and the mud will cover our scent further."

We wade through the cold water, letting it wash away the blood and sweat from the pits. I notice Grash's cloak is still relatively clean.

"Give me that." I snatch it from him, tearing it into strips. "We'll lay false trails. Dren, take some north. I'll place some west. But keep moving southeast."

"And me?" Eira asks, chin lifted in that defiant way of hers.

"You stay with Grash. You're still learning." It's not an insult – just fact. She needs more training before she can match our stealth and skills.

The moonlight filters through the canopy as we meet back up and push deeper into the forest. Every snap of a twig makes me tense, but I force myself to think clearly. Strategy over panic. Always.

"There's juniper ahead," I point out. "Crush some berries on your skin. The strong scent will help."

"You seem to know a lot about avoiding capture," Eira observes, her green eyes sharp.

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