Page 44 of Orc's Little Human
Yes.The word echoes through every fiber of my being, through the mark that no longer burns, through the magic that flows between us like promise made manifest.
Yes.
20
KORRATH
The swamplands of southeastern Tlouz stretch before us like a fever dream painted in shades of green and brown. Moss drips from twisted branches overhead, creating a canopy so thick that sunlight filters through in scattered coins of gold. The air hangs heavy with moisture and the rich scent of decay, while somewhere in the distance, a brox croaks its three-eyed warning to unseen predators.
Thali darts between the massive roots of ancient trees, her bare feet sure on the slick ground despite the treacherous footing. She's adapted to our journey with the resilience that only children possess, treating each new landscape like a gift unwrapped especially for her wonder.
"Look!" She spins around, her amber-green eyes bright with excitement as she points to a cluster of luminescent fungi growing from a fallen log. "They glow like the lumiolas back home, but they're not flying!"
Home.The word sits strangely in my chest. Gor'thul isn't home anymore—hasn't been since the moment I chose Selene over everything I'd built there. But watching Thali's delightat every new discovery, I realize she's already building new definitions of belonging.
"Don't touch them," I call out, adjusting my pack as I navigate around a pool of stagnant water. "Some swamp fungi are poisonous."
Thali nods solemnly, then immediately crouches down to examine a peculiar vine that spirals up the nearest tree trunk. Her attention span for warnings lasts exactly as long as it takes for something more interesting to catch her eye.
Selene walks beside me, her gray-blue eyes tracking Thali's movements with protective attention even as she takes in the alien landscape around us. The past week of travel has changed her—not just physically, though the sun has brought out more freckles across her nose and cheeks—but in ways that run deeper. She moves with less of the defensive tension that used to define her every gesture.
"She's fearless," Selene observes, watching as Thali leaps from root to root like some woodland sprite. "Doesn't she realize how dangerous this place could be?"
"She knows." I step over a tangle of thorny vines, then extend my hand to help Selene across. The brief contact sends familiar warmth up my arm—the magic that flows between us has grown stronger since that night by the fire, more natural. "But she also knows we're here to protect her."
Trust. It's such a simple concept, yet watching Thali explore with complete confidence in our ability to keep her safe, I'm struck by how rare true trust really is. How precious.
"You raised her well," Selene says quietly, and there's something in her voice that makes me glance at her more closely.
The compliment sits uncomfortably in my chest. Praise for my parenting feels foreign—in orcish culture, children are raised by the clan, not individuals. But Thali and I never had a clan inthe traditional sense. Just each other, and the weight of survival pressing down on both our shoulders.
"I did what I had to," I reply, then immediately wish I'd chosen different words. They sound dismissive, like raising my sister was some burden I bore reluctantly instead of the most important thing I've ever done.
Ahead of us, Thali discovers a patch of strange purple flowers growing directly from the swamp water. She kneels at the edge of a shallow pool, her reflection wavering as she reaches toward the blooms.
"Thali, wait." Selene moves forward quickly, her hand catching my sister's wrist before those small fingers can touch the petals. "Those look like numiscu blossoms. The sap paralyzes anything that touches it."
My chest tightens with a mixture of gratitude and something that might be fear. In my focus on navigating the swamp's physical dangers, I missed the botanical ones entirely. But Selene caught it, protected Thali without hesitation.
"How did you know that?" Thali asks, settling back on her heels with obvious disappointment at being denied her prize.
"I learned a lot about dangerous plants in the camps," Selene explains, her voice carefully neutral. "Knowledge that kept me alive."
The camps. Even now, weeks after our first real conversation about her captivity, the casual references to that horror make rage kindle in my chest. Not at Selene—never at her—but at the humans who used her, broke her, marked her for purposes she's still discovering.
"Come on," I say, offering Thali my hand to help her up. "Let's find drier ground for midday rest."
We walk in comfortable silence for a while, following what might charitably be called a path through the endless green maze. The swamp teems with life—hidden splashes as creaturesdisturb the water, the rustle of small animals moving through underbrush, the occasional cry of some bird I can't identify.
This landscape couldn't be more different from the rocky hills and sparse grasslands around Gor'thul. Everything here is lush, alive, overwhelming in its abundance. Like the world decided to pour all its growing energy into this one place and see what happened.
"It's beautiful," Selene murmurs, echoing my thoughts. "Dangerous, but beautiful."
I study her profile as she takes in our surroundings. The wariness that used to define her every expression has softened into something more open, more willing to find wonder even in uncertain places. It makes something shift in my chest, a recognition that goes deeper than physical attraction.
She sees beauty where others would see only threat.The realization strikes me with unexpected force.Even after everything that was done to her, she still looks for light.
"The first time I used my blood magic," I find myself saying, the words emerging without conscious decision, "I was eight years old."
