Page 17 of Orc's Little Human
"I thought you said she wasn't a prisoner."
"Well, if that's what you need to see her as to keep her here, then she is."
Even as I say it, the words taste strange in my mouth. Because if Selene is just a prisoner, why did I take her from Varok instead of letting him have his prize? Why do I find myself listening for her voice through the walls, tension coiling in my shoulders whenever too much time passes without some sign that she's still breathing?
Thali's face scrunches into the stubborn expression I know all too well—the one that usually precedes her most spectacular acts of defiance. But before she can marshal her arguments, the door to the human's quarters opens and Selene emerges.
The sight of her stops whatever protest was forming on my sister's lips. Stops my own thoughts dead in their tracks.
She's cleaned up since that first night, hair braided back in a style that reveals the sharp angles of her face. The clothes Thali brought fit well enough—a simple brown tunic and dark pants that don't hide the lean muscle beneath. But it's her eyes that catch me, gray-blue like storm clouds, scanning the room with the careful attention of someone mapping escape routes and potential weapons.
Those eyes find mine for a heartbeat before sliding away, but the impact lingers like a physical blow. There's fire in that gaze—not the broken terror I expected, but something hotter and more dangerous. Something that recognizes me as a threat while refusing to submit to that recognition.
"See? Much better," Thali says, apparently oblivious to the sudden tension crackling through the air. "Now you look like... well, like you instead of a wild thing dragged in from the rain."
Selene's mouth twitches—not quite a smile, but something close to it. The expression transforms her face completely, softening edges that seemed carved from stone and revealing glimpses of the woman she might have been before whatever hell she escaped from.
"Thank you," she says, and her voice carries that same careful quality as her gaze. Each word measured, tested for hidden traps before being released. "The clothes are... comfortable."
She doesn't look at me again, but I feel her awareness like heat against my skin. She knows exactly where I'm sitting, knows that my attention hasn't wavered from her since she entered the room. The knowledge should be uncomfortable—being watched by prey tends to make most humans either cower or attempt something foolishly brave.
Instead, she moves with fluid grace to examine Thali's collection of shells and stones, her focus apparently captured by my sister's treasures while somehow managing to keep me in her peripheral vision. It's a masterful display of situational awareness disguised as casual interest.
"This one's particularly beautiful," she says, lifting one of the spiral shells with fingers that don't quite shake. "Where did you find it?"
And just like that, Thali launches into an animated description of her morning expedition to the creek beds, complete with dramatic reenactments of her near-tumble into the water while reaching for the perfect specimen. She gestures wildly as she speaks, her words occasionally rushing together with excitement.
I should be watching my sister—should be cataloging this new enthusiasm, this glimpse of the child she still is beneath herwarrior training. But my attention keeps drifting to the human, studying the way she listens with complete focus, how she nods encouragingly when Thali stumbles over difficult words, the careful patience in her responses.
She's playing a part. Has to be. No one survives whatever she's been through without learning to manipulate their captors, to find weak points and exploit them. Thali's obvious affection represents the perfect leverage—a child's emotions are easily bent, easily used against those who care about them.
But watching her now, seeing the way her eyes soften when Thali laughs, how her guard drops just fractionally when faced with genuine enthusiasm... either she's the most accomplished actress I've ever encountered, or there's something real happening here.
Dangerous thinking.
I shift in my chair, the movement drawing both sets of eyes toward me. Thali's gaze holds simple curiosity—she's grown used to my brooding silences, accepts them as part of my nature. But Selene's attention lands like a physical weight, searching my face for clues about my intentions.
For a moment, we stare at each other across the space that separates predator from prey. Her chin lifts slightly, a gesture I'm beginning to recognize as her version of drawing a sword. She won't back down from this silent confrontation, won't give me the satisfaction of seeing her flinch.
There.That fire I glimpsed in her eyes burns brighter now, defiant and unbroken despite everything she's endured. Most humans learn to hide such emotions around orcs—we tend to view defiance as a challenge that needs crushing. But she either doesn't understand that truth or simply doesn't care.
The realization should infuriate me. Should trigger the same violent response that any challenge to my authority demands.Instead, I find myself... intrigued. Wondering how long that fire will last before reality grinds it down to ash and memory.
Wondering if I want to be the one to extinguish it, or if some part of me hopes it burns bright enough to survive.
"Korrath?" Thali's voice cuts through the strange tension building between Selene and me. "Can I show her the forge? Just the outside part where you work on small things?"
"No."
The word comes out harder than intended, sharp enough to make my sister flinch. But it has the opposite effect on Selene—her eyes narrow slightly, like she's filing away this information for future use.
She's smart. Too smart for someone who's supposed to be a broken refugee grateful for basic kindness.
"She's not leaving the longhouse," I continue, moderating my tone for Thali's sake. "Not until I say otherwise."
"But she's been good," my sister protests. "She hasn't tried to run or... or hurt anyone. And she tells such interesting stories about the outside world, about places with great waters that stretch to the horizon and?—"
"Thali."
