Page 32 of Her Rugged Orcs

"Worthless," I whisper, the word tasting like bile. "Nothing but a body to be used."

My foot catches on a root and I stumble, catching my shoulder hard against a rough tree trunk. The bark bites into my shoulder blade, and I welcome the pain. It's familiar, at least. Unlike the pang in my chest that threatens to tear me apart.

"Stupid girl." My voice cracks. "Thinking they actually wanted you. Thinking anyone could..."

The wind whips through the trees, carrying the scent of pine and earth. It reminds me of Dren. How his silver eyes would soften when he looked at me. But it was all a lie, wasn't it?

I push myself forward, though my legs shake with exhaustion. The shadows between the trees grow thicker, but they're nothing compared to the darkness inside me. Every step takes me further from them, from their warmth, theirprotection. From the foolish dream that I could be more than what I am.

"Just a whore," I choke out, tears streaming down my face. "That's all you'll ever be. That's all anyone will ever see."

The forest seems to mock me with its silence. Even the wind dies down, leaving me alone with my thoughts, my worthlessness, my shame. I've never been anything but a body to be bought and sold, used and discarded. Why did I let myself believe I could be anything more?

The darkness grows deeper, matching the void in my chest. I keep running, though I have no destination. There's nowhere for someone like me to go. No place where I belong.

"You'll always be nothing," I tell myself, voice raw with truth. "Always be no one."

My lungs burn as I push through the thick mountain forest. The moon barely penetrates the dense canopy, leaving me stumbling through shadows. Pine needles crunch beneath my feet, too loud in the oppressive silence.

"Just keep moving," I gasp between ragged breaths. My legs tremble with exhaustion, but I won't stop. Every step takes me further from their betrayal, from their accusation.

A twig snaps somewhere to my left. I freeze, my hand instinctively reaching for my dagger, but my fingers fumble on the hilt. My heart pounds so hard I can barely hear anything else.

Another snap, closer this time. The shadows seem to shift and writhe around me.

"Who's—" The word dies in my throat as something hard strikes the side of my head. Pain explodes through my skull like lightning. My knees buckle as the forest tilts sideways.

Dark shapes emerge from the shadows, their armor gleaming dully in what little moonlight filters through the trees. Dark elves. How did they?—

"The little slave thought she could run," a cold voice sneers.

I try to reach for my weapons, but my arms won't cooperate. The ground rushes up to meet me as darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision.

"No," I manage to whisper, but it's too late. The last thing I see is moonlight before consciousness slips away entirely.

24

GRASH

The mountain air bites at my skin as I approach our camp, my earlier rage cooled by the night wind. Something's wrong. The silence hits me first – too thick, too empty. The dying embers cast weak shadows across the stone ground where Eira should be sleeping.

"Eira?" My voice echoes off the rocks. No response.

I scan the area, my heart pounding against my ribs. Her scent still lingers, mixed with pine and smoke, but it's growing cold.

"Damn it!" I slam my fist into a nearby boulder. The pain barely registers through the storm of emotions churning in me. Anger at myself, fear for her safety, guilt over my harsh words earlier.

I circle the camp again, searching for any sign of her.

There's nothing here except the mocking silence and the dying fire. The same fire where hours ago I stood towering over her, accusing her of betrayal. The memory of her face in that moment - the hurt in those green eyes - makes me want to roar at the sky. I should have trusted her. Instead, I let suspicion poison everything we'd built.

"You're better than this," I mutter to myself. "Think." But thinking has never been my strength. That's Murok's domain. I'm built for action, for fighting, for protecting. And I've failed at the one thing that matters most.

My chest feels too tight, like I'm being crushed under a mountain of regret. I've faced countless enemies, felt the bite of steel and the burn of magic, but this – this helpless anger mixed with fear – it's something I don't know how to fight.

"EIRA!" I roar into the darkness, not caring who might hear.

The sound of boots pounding against stone echoes through the night as Murok and Dren rush back to camp, weapons drawn.

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