Page 33 of Her Rugged Orcs

"What happened?" Murok demands, his braids swinging as he scans the area.

I can barely look at them, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides. "She's gone."

Dren moves silently through our camp, his eyes catching details I missed in my rage. He crouches near where she slept, fingers brushing the ground. "Her scent is fresh. Not more than an hour old."

"Here," Murok calls from the edge of camp. "Footprints. They're uneven, rushed." His jaw tightens as he studies the ground. "She was running."

The word hits me like a war hammer to the chest. Running. From us. From me.

"Fuck!" I slam my fist into another boulder, feeling the skin split across my knuckles. "We drove her away. I drove her away."

"We all had a part in this," Murok says, but I cut him off with a snarl.

"I was supposed to protect her!" My voice cracks, revealing more than I want. "I promised her she was safe with us, then treated her like an enemy."

Dren's quiet voice carries across the camp. "Your pack is gone. She took supplies."

Of course she did. She's not stupid – she's survived worse than us. The thought makes me want to tear something apart, preferably myself.

"The way we looked at her..." I run my hand over my face. "Like she was nothing. After everything..."

After the pits. After the nights she trusted us enough to sleep beside us. After she gave herself to us. After I swore to myself I'd never let anyone hurt her again.

Murok approaches, his expression grim. "Grash-"

"Don't." I turn away from both of them, staring into the darkness that swallowed her. My chest feels hollow, like something vital has been ripped out. "Just... don't."

The mountain wind howls through our camp, carrying away her scent, and with it, any hope I had of keeping my heart intact.

I charge at the nearest tree, my fist connecting with the bark. The impact sends splinters flying, but I barely feel it through the rage coursing through my veins. "Damn it all to hell. I'm a fucking idiot!" I yell.

Blood trickles down my knuckles as I slam my other fist into another tree, watching the trunk crack under my strength.

"She thinks we don't trust her now," Murok mutters behind me.

I whirl on him, my chest heaving. "You really think I give a fuck about our suspicions right now?" My voice drops to a dangerous growl. "I'm bringing her back. She's mine."

"Ours," Dren corrects quietly from the shadows.

"Fine. Ours." I flex my bloodied fingers. "I'm not letting her disappear into the night because we were too blind to see what was right in front of us."

Murok steps closer, his braids swaying. "And if she doesn't want to come back?"

A low rumble builds in me. "Then I'll convince her." I grab my axe from where it leans against a boulder. "I claimed her in those pits. I'll claim her again if I have to."

"You can't force-" Murok starts, but I cut him off with a snarl.

"I'm not forcing anything. But I'm not giving up on her either." The memory of her pressed against me, trusting me, floods my mind. "She's ours. She belongs with us. And I'll spend every breath proving it to her if that's what it takes."

I stalk toward the trail she left, my blood singing with determination. Let her run. Let her hide. I'll find her. I'll always find her.

"I'll check the other path with Dren, just in case she switched directions," Murok calls after me as I stalk toward the mountain trail.

Dren's quiet voice carries through the darkness. "We'll meet up with you near the river."

I grunt in acknowledgment, my focus locked on the faint impressions in the dirt. Her footprints are light, barely visible in the weak moonlight, but I can track them. I can track her anywhere.

The mountain air carries her scent – fear, anger, and beneath it all, that sweetness that's uniquely her. My chest clenches. She's out here alone, vulnerable. The thought of what could happen to her makes my blood boil.

---