Page 21 of The Orc Protector's Secret Baby
It may take time, and a hell of a lot of patience, and more than a little luck. But I'm in this for the long haul, and I know in my heart that someday, Hayden will see me for who I truly am.
A friend. An ally. And maybe, just maybe, something more.
11
HAYDEN
I’m still not sure why I gave him my name.
The orc seems friendly, which is hard to wrap my head around. I’ve never experienced anything but hatred and torture from his kind, and it’s hard to trust in his efforts to spend time with me.
Once I’m sure he’s gone, I make my way back to the stream and browse through the basket he left behind. My mouth waters at the scent of fresh bread. I unpack fresh strawberries, a chunk of ham wrapped in paper, and some hardened sweets that smell like vanilla. After living on foraged greens and the sparse meat I’ve been able to get from smaller animals, this is a feast.
I can’t help the twinge of gratitude from warming my insides.
The warmth is short-lived, though. Goosebumps erupt along my arms from the icy wind that sweeps over the water. With a grimace, I look up at the gray sky.
“Rainy season has arrived,” I mutter to myself.
Shivering, I tug the ratty flag tighter around my shoulders. The thin fabric provides little warmth or protection from the elements. I need to prepare if I'm going to survive the brutal months ahead.
I glance around the clearing I’ve settled into. There is no real shelter here, just bare earth and towering trees.
Sighing, I rub my raw, aching hands together. Loneliness washes over me, deep and chilling. Not for the first time, I wish for a companion to talk to, someone to help me in my endless fight to simply exist out here.
The orc's smiling face flashes in my mind and I shake my head angrily.
“I can't trust him. Can't let my guard down,” I mutter to myself. Still... he's the first being to show me kindness in forever. Part of me yearns to see him again, hear his deep rumbling voice. But I know seeking friendship will only lead to more hurt.
My stomach rumbles loudly, interrupting my thoughts. I don’t want to eat too much from the gift basket yet, because I don’t know what’s going to happen once the weather turns for good. I wrap my makeshift cloak tight and head for the stream, hoping to catch a fish before full dark. The sky rumbles overhead, wind whipping my tangled hair. But the fish elude me. The animals are hiding from the coolness in the air, so hunting yields nothing, too.
I retreat back to the bare clearing hungry and discouraged, the threat of winter weighing heavily on my mind. Curled at the base of a broad tree, my thoughts stray to the strange orc who might just offer me a scrap of hope against the coming storm.
The next day I return to the stream, wary of the orc's presence. Yet part of me hopes to see his smiling face again. I spot Cagan across the bank.
"Hayden! Good to see you again," he shouts in greeting.
Sensing my hesitation, Cagan backs away further down the opposite bank.
"How are you today? Catch any good fish?" his rumbling voice carries over the burbling water.
I share nothing, but let his words wash over me as I rinse my flag-cloak in the chilly water. The sky is mostly gray, but bits of sunshine peek out occasionally. Hopefully this will dry before the temperature drops later in the day.
"The cook made some great bread this morning," he chatters. “I brought you some.” He sets the parcel down on a nearby rock for me to collect later.
The next morning, I walk to the stream again. Cagan beams at seeing me across the bank.
"How are you? You won’t believe what the healer’s child did yesterday..." He launches into an exaggerated story that makes me smile.
Our distant shouted conversation flows easier. A foreign feeling of lightness lifts my spirit.
On the third day, Cagan approaches warily. "Hayden, did I tell you about my clan's coming of age ritual? It's quite intense..."
His steady voice and occasional chuckle soothe me as he describes his clan's traditions. And for the first time in a very long time, I don't feel completely alone.
The next morning dawns damp and dreary. Heavy mist shrouds the forest as I make my way to the stream. Despite the gloom, my steps feel lighter than usual. I'm almost eager to see if the orc will be there today.
Sure enough, Cagan's hulking outline materializes through the fog. My breath catches slightly in my throat at his sudden appearance, but I stand my ground. Sensing my reaction, he keeps several strides between us, though he’s closer than before. I find I don’t mind it so much.