Page 69 of X'nath

But on days like today, I realized that maybe the universe was simply watching over me, stifling a laugh as I chose to be withsuch a young, arrogant warrior. Despite everything, maybe this was exactly where I was meant to be.

X’nath had been annoyingly persistent since we left the village, trying to crack a joke every few moments, or tossing me bits of dried meat and fruit from the pouch he had slung over his shoulder. I could tell he was trying to lighten the mood, to break through the wall I’d put up between us.

“Here,” he said, tossing a dried strip of meat toward me. “It’s a delicacy. Made by my own hands. Or... maybe Yargol’s. Who’s to say?”

At the sound of his name, Yargol weaved around my feet, practically begging for a piece. He, like X’nath, seemed to be on very good terms with one another now that I’d forgiven them both. Who would have thought there would be such rivalry between a warrior and his weasel?

I caught it out of reflex but didn’t eat it right away. Instead, I shot him a sideways glance. “Focus, X’nath. This is a patrol, not a picnic.”

I stifled a laugh at the memory of X’nath pouting after an exhausting marathon of his version of his second apology, demanding to know if I would rather play with his weasel than with him as we snuggled in my bed.

He shrugged, a warrior’s grin spreading across his face like he’d just challenged the gods themselves. “A little fun never killed a warrior. I’ve walked this path many times. Nothing here can touch me.” He slapped his chest with a forceful thud, as if daring the world to test his strength, like he was presenting the weapon he trusted most—his own battle-hardened body.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress the faintest tug at the corner of my lips. "We can joke all you want, but we both know what’s lurking out here." I glanced around, the shadows of the forest flickering ominously in the moonlight.

“Lurking?” X’nath snorted, his voice thick with the arrogance of a seasoned warrior. “You speak like the forest holds a monster behind every tree. Look at it, Gracie. This land is peaceful, just waiting for a warrior to walk it.”

He paused for a moment, his posture proud, his eyes scanning the trees as though daring the world to challenge him. “But if something does show up, I’ll deal with it and present its head at your feet, befitting a sacrifice to a goddess.”

There it was again—the arrogance of someone who thought nothing could touch him. I didn’t want to remind him that he was, as we all were, flesh and blood. The way he stood, confident and untouchable, it made me grit my teeth. But there was truth in his words, too. He had earned his reputation. It made him one of the fiercest warriors in the village, whether I liked it or not.

“Just don’t get too comfortable, X’nath,” I warned, my voice stern. “There’s no room for mistakes out here.”

And perhaps it was my worry speaking again. But I couldn’t help it. The more I came to care for him… the more I came to love him, losing him was a scary thought.

He raised his arms in a mock surrender, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Yes,lak’osh,you are right.”

I muttered under my breath at his antics. “Let’s move on. We’re not here to admire the view.”

X’nath flashed me a grin, unbothered by my warning, the weight of his weapons shifting with each confident step. Strapped with his trusty axe behind his back, he walked with an air of indifference. When I asked him why he never took up the pistol, he brushed it off and told me he wanted to honor the way his father battled with the familiar weapons of the tribe.

It was strangely thoughtful of him. X’nath equipped me with a medium weight spear, one preferred by the female orcs who had patrolled in the past. The shaft rested against my shoulder, a silent reminder of my own readiness for what might layahead this night. I wasn’t a warrior, not by any stretch of the imagination, but my family had survived the harsher parts of the human settlements for years. Until I came of age and was married off to a man I thought was an older gentleman from a more refined background—a man who would go on to shape my fate in ways I never could have imagined.

Maybe, just maybe, this patrol was what we needed. A break from the lingering past, a chance to reset.

The night was still, the distant chirping of crickets and other insects creating a strange symphony. I allowed myself to feel the rare peace of the moment, a fleeting reprieve from the tension that had hung between X’nath and me.

But as we rounded a bend in the path, that fragile calm shattered.

A figure stepped out from behind the trees, emerging as if from the shadows themselves. The sudden movement caught me off guard, and I instinctively gripped the spear X’nath had given me, my posture tense. X’nath’s hand immediately went to his axe, his stance shifting to one of caution.

The figure didn’t seem aggressive, but there was an air of uncertainty about him. He was a man, dressed in worn clothing that suggested a long journey. His eyes darted nervously between us, his hands raised in a placating gesture.

“Easy, easy,” he said, his voice smooth but strained, the kind of voice a man uses when he’s trying too hard to seem unthreatening. “I’m just a traveler, looking for the Savage Claw clan. I’ve heard they accept trade from passing visitors from time to time. They’re somewhere out here in the wilderness, and I thought?—”

X’nath cut him off, his tone low and wary. “You’re far from the main roads,human.”

Human? This far into the mountains? Were there others who lived among different clans like we were?

The man hesitated, his eyes flickering between me and X’nath. His lips parted as if he meant to speak, but he faltered, his hesitation sending a ripple of unease through me. A cool breeze rustled the leaves overhead, the moonlight shifting as it filtered through the branches. In that fleeting moment, everything seemed to freeze. A wave of recognition hit me, and my blood ran cold.

I froze in place, my eyes narrowing as I studied him more closely in case my mind was playing tricks on me. His features weren’t unfamiliar, though I couldn’t place him at first. Then it hit me—his voice, his face...

The docks.

The day I was sold. His voice of distaste as he told my husband damaged wares wouldn’t sell for much.

My heart pounded in my chest as a thousand thoughts raced through my mind. Why would a slaver be here, pretending to search for trade on his own? This was no innocent traveler. He was scouting us, looking for weaknesses, laying the groundwork for a trap. His eyes would flicker toward me every so often, studying me with an unsettling gaze, as if sizing me up like potential cargo. It was evident that he didn’t fully recognize me other than that I was human. How many other women had come through his docks? Has the number of fresh meat dwindled back in the human settlement that forced him to venture this far out?

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