Page 8 of The Passionate Orc
"What's in the bag, Humperdink?" Kragthar boomed as I tried to sneak past the clan's communal area. The bag in question contained brushes, paints, and a rolled canvas—all recently purchased from the art supply store across town.
"Nothing," I said, too quickly. "Just training gear."
Kragthar's yellow eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Since when do you train with your human? Thought you were just rutting."
Several other orcs looked up, suddenly interested. Great. An audience.
"It's private," I growled, trying to sound menacing rather than terrified.
"Ooooh, private," hooted Grubnuk from his seat by the fire pit. "Let's see then! Got her some fancy lingerie?"
My mind raced. "It's herbs. For her." The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
Blank stares all around.
"Female herbs," I elaborated, cringing inside. "Human females need special herbs. For their monthly sword wounds."
There was a moment of stunned silence before the entire room erupted in disgusted groans and hurried retreats. No orc wanted to discuss human female biology. Crisis averted.
I escaped, my dignity only slightly wounded, and made it to Emryn's place with my contraband art supplies intact.
"You told them WHAT?" Emryn collapsed in a fit of giggles when I recounted the story, sprawled across her paint-spattered floor.
"It worked, didn't it?" I grumbled, but couldn't help smiling at her mirth. "They scattered like spooked goblins."
She wiped tears from her eyes. "Oh, Nar. You're something else."
"Something bad?"
"Something wonderful." She sat up, her laughter subsiding. "Now, shall we get to work on our masterpiece?"
The next weekpassed in a blur of colors and creation. Emryn and I settled into a rhythm, working side by side in her small apartment. I painted landscapes—rolling hills and mountains from my childhood home, while she created tiny clay figures to inhabit them. We built a miniature world, half painting, half sculpture.
It was the happiest I'd been in years.
But keeping secrets from my clan was becoming increasingly difficult.
"You smell like chemicals," Thokk commented one morning after I returned from an all-night session at Emryn's. "What's your woman doing to you?"
"Mind your business," I snarled, but internally I panicked. I'd have to be more careful.
The following night, I tried sneaking out with a new canvas hidden inside my cloak. I made it all the way to the clan hall entrance before disaster struck.
"Chief wants everyone for night patrol," Grubnuk announced, nearly colliding with me. "Border skirmish with the Stone Fists. Grab your axe."
My blood ran cold. "Tonight? I can't. I have plans with Emryn."
Grubnuk's bushy eyebrows shot up. "Cancel them. Chief's orders."
I stood frozen, the canvas awkwardly concealed beneath my cloak. I couldn't refuse a direct order from our chief—that would raise too many questions. But Emryn was waiting for me, and we only had two weeks left before the competition deadline.
"Fine," I grunted. "Let me just prepare."
I darted outside, pulling out the communication crystal Emryn had given me. Human technology, unreliable but useful in emergencies. I activated it, waiting for her face to appear in the glowing stone.
"Nar? What's wrong?" Her concerned face materialized in the crystal's depths.
"Can't make it tonight. Clan emergency." The disappointment on her face made my chest ache. "I'll try to come by tomorrow."
