Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
FENRIK
I tried not to stare down at Tracy while I hurried back to the cabin. She sat with her arms crossed in front of her, staring off into the distance. I wanted to be frustrated that she’d wandered off, but I couldn’t be. She was right. She had no reason to believe I’d return. Tracy didn’t know I had spent most of the afternoon hunting. She was gone when I returned to the cabin with the animal I’d managed to bring down. The cabin was pristine—but no Tracy. At first I panicked, but there were no signs of a struggle. Tracy seemed like the type that would put up a fight.
I left my kill on the back porch and spent the rest of the afternoon and into the early evening looking for her. Injured and asleep on the forest floor was not how I expected to find her. It was going to be a long night. I still had to butcher the animal and cook it. Neither of us had eaten in more than a day now.
After some time, Tracy shifted in my arms, and I realized she’d fallen asleep and was leaning into my chest instead of sitting stiffly as she had when she was awake. She reminded me of a kyrr, small and timid. They often hid in the forest’s undergrowth and were rarely seen by orkin. I pulled Tracy closer to me as she slept, wanting to protect her from not only from our planet’s predators and harsh weather but also from the pain she’d already endured. She was right. I could have just left, but something about her called out to me, telling me to stay with her. I sighed, knowing as well as she did that we had no long-term plan, but we had to just focus on living through each day for the time being. For today, that meant food—and hopefully getting clean.
I reached the clearing as the sun slid behind the mountains, leaving us in the blue twilight of early evening. Tracy was quietly snoring into my chest and had turned her body even closer to me as if trying to absorb my warmth.
I carried her into the cabin, careful to keep my movements gentle as I laid her on the couch. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, her features softening even more in the warm glow of the fading light. I paused for a moment, just watching her. The way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the delicate curve of her lips—it was mesmerizing. My body started to warm in all sorts of ways, and I knew I needed to stop staring. No matter how drawn I found myself to her, I shouldn’t be ogling a sleeping human.
I focused on starting a fire but stole glances at her as I moved about the small space. The cabin felt intimate, the rough wood walls enclosing us in a cozy embrace. I gathered kindling and logs from the nearby stack, my thoughts lingering on her. She was so different from me—so fragile yet fierce in her own right. It struck me how much strength it took her to be out here, facing the unknown.
As I crouched by the hearth, striking flint against stone, I caught sight of her again. Her hair fanned out on the couch, catching the last bits of sunlight filtering through the window, making the yellow of her waves appear more golden. I could still see the faint traces of worry on her face from earlier, but now, in deep sleep, she looked serene. This made me fiercely desire to protect her, to keep the darkness of my world and her past at bay.
The fire caught, crackling to life, casting warm shadows across the cabin. I added more wood, feeling the heat spread through the air. As I turned back to her, I noticed how she instinctively curled into herself, as if seeking warmth even in her dreams. A smile tugged at my lips—again, she reminded me of the kyrr—small, hidden away, yet filled with an undeniable spirit. I moved closer, settling onto the edge of the couch, wanting to be near her. Tonight, I would keep her safe and feed her.
The fire popped, pulling me out of my wandering thoughts and reminding me there was much more to be done. I needed to butcher the animal before we lost all the light. I pulled a blanket over Tracy before heading out to the back porch. I would work quickly so she wouldn’t wake up and worry that I left her again.
Tracy
I was snuggled comfortably in my warm bed, a soft blanket cocooning me. Faint sounds of movement pulled me from my peaceful state, and I blinked, only to realize that I was most definitely not in my bedroom in San Diego. Panic surged through me before the memories rushed back. This was a cabin on an alien planet. I was here with Fenrik, the orc who was taking a serious risk in providing me a place to stay. He was committed to seeing me through this alive, and I was almost ready to believe him. Breathe in, breathe out.
Sitting up, I ran my fingers through my hair, the familiar gesture grounding me. My borrowed pink dress I was wearing still felt foreign, and I longed for something more practical, especially considering the cold. I wrapped the blanket tighter around myself, wishing for a moment that I could shake off the remnants of my old life.
Time slipped away as I sat in front of the fire, reveling in the warmth and the rare stillness that enveloped me. Back home, I had never had the luxury to rest—with Gabe, there was always something expected of me—cleaning, cooking, maintaining the facade of our perfect life. But here, in this cabin, I could breathe.
Eventually, though, it was clear that Fenrik wasn’t in the cabin, and unease began to creep in again. I stood up, wincing slightly at the pain in my feet, and made my way to the window facing the back porch. When I peeked outside, I gasped at the sight before me.
Fenrik was stripped to the waist, and the moonlight cast a silvery glow over his bulging muscles as he focused intently on butchering an animal. It looked a little bit like a goat, with shaggy fur and short stubby antlers, but it had long slender legs like a deer. Whatever it was, I hope it tasted good.
I continued to watch as Frenrik’s broad shoulders and powerful arms moved with precision, and his muscles rippled as he worked. Something unexpected fluttered in my chest, watching him work. Was I ogling an orc?
The last time I had been intimate with a man, I shut my eyes and let Gabe do the work. No feelings or desire attached. It was absurd to be thinking lusty thoughts about a man I barely knew. I tried to dismiss the warmth I felt pooling in my belly. Yet, here I was, captivated by how the moonlight danced across his skin, highlighting the strength in every movement. There was something primal about him, something that spoke to the very core of my being. He was so different from Gabe, so raw and unapologetic, and I found myself drawn to him. I couldn’t help it. Fenrik had protected me and cared for me when no one else had. In a world so foreign, he was a steadfast presence, and the more I watched him, the more I felt that maybe, just maybe, I could allow myself to feel something for him.
He finished cutting the meat into manageable pieces and paused for a moment, as if sensing my gaze. His eyes lifted and met mine through the window, and a rush of warmth flooded my cheeks, embarrassed to be caught watching him. As he tentatively smiled, I smiled back.
I wobbled back to the couch, still tired, the pain in my feet lancing through me with each gentle step I took. Soon Fenrik returned inside, giving me another brief smile before turning to the counter to deposit the meat. My stomach grumbled at the thought of food, and I briefly wondered how long it had been since the last time I had eaten. Fenrik took quite a bit of time at the sink, washing up to his elbows and then opening and looking through the cupboards. I tried to sit quietly and not pester him with questions. After what seemed an age, he returned to me on the couch, not with food as I expected.
“I know you are hungry, but we must tend to your feet first. They won’t heal in their current state.” He set a bowl of steaming water and strips of cloth on the table. Then, he pulled a small glass jar out of his pocket and placed it on the table along with the other supplies. “I found some healing ointment and healing essentials in the kitchen. I need your feet.”
“Oh n-no, it’s—it’s o-okay,” I stuttered. “I am sure they’ll be fine.” I blushed furiously. I didn’t need this hulking orc touching my dirty and bloodied feet. It seemed too… intimate.
“Tracy.” His gravelly voice came out stern. “They won’t heal unless properly cleaned and bandaged, and you can’t do that on your own. Again, I need your feet.”
The tone of his voice, while not harsh, left no room for argument. I lifted my feet, unsure of where he wanted me to place them, and was surprised when he gently took my ankles and guided my feet into his lap. His hands were huge and calloused but unexpectedly gentle as he inspected each foot. Given my angle, I couldn’t see most of what he was looking at, but if the dirt and dried blood streaked across the top of my feet were any indicator, I had to guess it was bad.
He dipped a cloth into the steaming water and paused before starting. “This is likely going to hurt, but we can’t have your feet getting infected.” He looked almost mournful that he was going to have to cause me pain.
I nodded, bracing myself. As Fenrik began to clean my feet, I couldn't help but wince. The warm water stung as it made contact with my raw skin, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out.
“I’m sorry,” Fenrik murmured, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I’ll try to be as gentle as I can.”
Despite the discomfort, I was mesmerized by how he tended to my wounds. His large hands moved with surprising delicacy, supporting my ankle with one while the other worked methodically to clean away the dirt and blood. The cloth he used was soft against my skin, and I could feel the warmth of his fingers through the fabric.
“You're doing well,” he said, glancing up at me reassuringly. “The worst of it is almost over.”
I felt a flutter in my chest at his words, warmth spreading through me that had nothing to do with the water. As Fenrik continued his ministrations, I found myself studying him more closely. The narrowed look of concentration in his eyes, the way his tusks peeked out slightly when he frowned, the gentle way his calloused thumbs brushed against my skin as he worked—all of it captivated me. The pain in my feet began to fade into the background as I became lost in the rhythm of his movements.
The moon rose in the sky, and the fire crackled as he worked silently, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere.
He gently started spreading the ointment across the ball of my foot, and I sighed in relief. I felt my body relax as he spread it all over the bottom of each foot. It was almost as if I could feel it starting to heal my feet. I held my breath as he meticulously covered each toe in the salve. It tickled, but I was determined to stay still for him.
As if he felt me tense, his eyes met mine. “Does it hurt?”
“No, no.” I placed my hand over my mouth, trying to stop the giggle bubbling up in my stomach from escaping to no avail. Fenrik dropped his brows in confusion. “Sorry! It tickles!”
Fenrik’s face shifted from concerned to mischievous. “Oh, you mean this tickles?” He dragged a feather-light touch across the arch of my foot, causing me to squirm.
“Yes!” Full-blown laughter came out of me with a gasp. “Stop, stop! This surely can’t be good for my healing .”
With a small grin still lingering, he started slowly wrapping my feet in the strips of cloth, neatly bandaging each foot. He finished but didn’t take his warm hands off my ankles, still studying his handiwork.
“Um… are you planning on keeping my feet?” I joked.
I was surprised to see him blush.
“No, no,” he said, gently taking them from his lap and placing them on the couch. “They are just so small and delicate—like the rest of you.” He raised his eyes to meet mine. “I was so worried when you disappeared.”
My cheeks began to feel warm as he gazed at me, his words suspended in silence. As if realizing what was happening, he cleared his throat and stood.
“You should stay off of them as much as possible while they are healing, so I will cook us some dinner.”
As he headed to the kitchen, I called out, “So I am just supposed to sit here like a bump on a log?”
“Like a… what? ”
With his face scrunched up in confusion, I couldn’t help but laugh again. American slang clearly didn’t translate.
“Like a lazy person,” I explained.
He looked affronted. “You’re not lazy! You’re injured.” He returned to preparing something for us to eat, giving me no further room to argue.