Page 10 of Orc's Little Human
The question hangs between us while she arranges food on a wooden plate with careful precision. Her small hands move with surprising grace, each berry placed just so, bread torn into equal pieces. When she finishes, she looks up with eyes that hold depths I didn't expect from someone so young.
"Because you're sad. And scared. And nobody should be alone when they're both."
The simple honesty hits harder than any blow I've endured. For a moment, my carefully constructed walls threaten to crumble, emotion clawing at my throat with desperate fingers. I force it down, wrap numbness around my chest like armor.
She's a child. An orc child. This doesn't mean anything.
But even as I think it, I'm reaching for the bread she's offered, accepting kindness I don't understand from an enemy who should want me dead.
The next day brings clothes.
Thali appears early, arms full of fabric that smells faintly of woodsmoke and something herbal. She spreads the garments across the furs with the same careful attention she gave the food—a tunic of soft brown leather, pants that might actually fit, even undergarments that look clean.
"These were my mother's." She runs small fingers along the tunic's embroidered edges, tracing patterns I don't recognize. "She died when I was born, but Korrath kept some of her things. Said I might want them someday."
The casual mention of death, the matter-of-fact way she discusses losing her mother—it reminds me that this child has known loss in ways I'm only beginning to understand. My own grief over family feels suddenly selfish, hollow compared to growing up without ever knowing a mother's touch.
"They're beautiful." The lie comes easily, though part of me is surprised to find it's not entirely false. The leather is supple, well-crafted, decorated with geometric designs that speak of patient skill. "Are you sure you want me to have them?"
"You can't keep wearing those rags." She gestures at my torn dress with practical disdain. "Besides, you're about her size. Korrath said so."
Korrath again.I wonder what else he's said about me, what observations he's shared with his sister. The thought of him studying me closely enough to judge my size makes my skin prickle with awareness I don't want to examine.
"There's a bathing room through that door." Thali points to a curtained alcove I hadn't noticed before. "Hot water, soap, everything you need. Take your time—I'll wait out here."
The bath proves to be a revelation.
Not the crude bucket and cold water I expected, but an actual tub carved from dark stone, filled with water that steams invitingly. Soap that smells of rirzed herb instead of lye. Evena cloth for washing that's softer than anything I've touched in months.
I sink into the heat with a groan that comes from somewhere deep in my bones, feeling weeks of accumulated grime and fear begin to dissolve. For the first time since the merchant cart, since the death camps before that, I allow myself a moment of pure physical comfort. The water cradles me like a gentle embrace, washing away more than just dirt.
When I emerge, clean and dressed in leather that fits like it was made for me, Thali claps her hands with delight.
"Much better! You look almost normal now."
"Almost normal" feels like the highest compliment I've received in years.
By the third day, I'm ready to risk everything for a glimpse of the sky.
"Please." I keep my voice low, aware that stone walls might carry sound to unwelcome ears. "Just for a few minutes. I need to see something besides these four walls."
Thali chews her lower lip, clearly torn between desire to help and whatever instructions her brother left. She's been good company—chattering about clan life, asking endless questions about human customs, bringing me books written in orcish I can't read but appreciate anyway. But the walls are closing in, suffocating me inch by inevitable inch.
"Korrath said you have to stay with me," she finally admits. "He didn't say you had to stay inside."
The loophole makes my heart race with desperate hope. "So we could go outside? Together?"
"I know a place." Excitement brightens her amber eyes. "A cove where I collect shells and pretty stones. It's not far, and nobody ever goes there during the day."
The promise of open air, of space to breathe without feeling trapped, overwhelms every instinct screaming warnings aboutventuring into an orc stronghold. I need this. Need it more than food or water or the dubious safety of these stone walls.
"Lead the way."
Sneaking out proves easier than expected. Thali knows every shadow, every blind spot in the corridors. She moves with liquid grace despite her youth, gesturing for silence with fingers that could belong to a seasoned scout. I follow as closely as I dare, heart hammering against my ribs with each step that takes us further from my prison.
The first glimpse of Gor'thul steals my breath.
Bone palisades rise from cliff-carved stone like the remains of some ancient giant, bleached white and sharp enough to gut an unwary climber. Longhouses crouch between them—structures built from driftwood and hide that speak of people who take what the sea provides and make it serve their needs. Smoke rises from countless fires, carrying scents of roasted meat and something metallic I don't want to identify.
