The Orc #6
"No!" I bark. I think back to what Ulack said about humans, how they attack unprovoked. I can picture it now—an orc like Ulack, wandering through the woods, minding his own business, then coming upon a human who doesn't ask questions, just pokes him with his spear out of fear.
I shake my head and try to calm my voice.
"No. It wasn't like that. They aren't moving close.
In fact…" I hedge, thinking about how much to share.
Skyler is my closest friend here. She means well, and doesn't judge me the way the others do.
But this secret—it's far bigger than me just screwing up or daydreaming inappropriately.
"I spoke with the orc. He was… kind. He explained the orcs don't care about the humans. They don't want to attack. Seeing their tracks through the woods is just that. Tracks. They search for game, same as us. But they aren't actively trying to hurt humans, not unless they're attacked first."
Skyler's eyes grow wide. Her mouth drops open in disbelief. "They… he… was kind? He told you they don't want to attack us?"
"No. They want to keep to themselves."
"So let me get this straight. You spoke with an orc. You had an actual conversation. And he managed to convince you they're harmless?"
"No, that's not what I'm saying. And he wasn't trying to convince me. We were just talking."
Skyler shakes her head, pressing her lips into a thin line.
Then she stands and walks to the entrance of our tent, tossing her shiny hair over her shoulder.
"Ergo will be here soon. I know you like to listen in, but for once, could you leave and give us a little privacy?
You make us both uncomfortable, and it's hard to enjoy myself when I know you're enjoying it, too. "
I shrink away, my throat constricted, a useless defense on my tongue.
And with that, she lifts the flap, then disappears into the night. For the second time since I've been back, in less than an hour, I feel deep shame. I don't belong here.
I don't know where else to go.
I gather my heaviest fur, slip out of the tent, then walk to the entrance of the woods. It happens that I end up on the north side of our camp. Just past the clearing, beneath the canopy of a large oak tree, I curl into my furs and cry myself to sleep.
Ulack
It took less than an hour for me to follow Eden back to her village.
Our goodbye gnawed at me. It didn't feel right; it wasn't enough, and I knew I couldn't let her go so easily. Not without knowing whether she felt the same way, if I'd imagined something deeper blossoming between us.
And so I followed her home, and then I lingered, concealed by the forest. And when night came, I watched her carry her furs away from the other cluster of tents, and sleep alone beneath the stars.
She looked sad, which made little sense.
I'd seen her only hours earlier. She was so sweet and fun and carefree.
But out there, curled up in her furs, she looked out of place.
Uncomfortable and disconnected, and I tried to think back to our conversation that afternoon, if she ever mentioned her place amongst her people.
Was she cast out? Was that why she slept alone?
She said she felt safe.
But did she say she felt happy?
I would have gone to her then, but there were too many patrollers. I'd have to wait until she left again, and find her on the trails.
But as the night passed, I began to wonder if I was the disillusioned one. She left me after all. Didn't ask to meet again. She had fun with an orc and returned home, satisfied, but in no need of more.
I watched her sleep, my eyes intermittently following the patrollers who stalked the perimeter of their village.
My Eden has more sense than those humans who walk around with their crude pointy sticks, stabbing at the dark at the slightest provocation. A noisy rabbit would scare most of those men.
And she has more sense than the elders who claim to have deep knowledge and understanding of the forest that they occupy.
They do not understand the forest or the creatures they share space with. They do not understand they share space, or the intricate web that connects us.
These humans are useless. But not my Eden. She is different. She understands.
But she isn't really mine, is she? She made her choice.
And she barely knows me. Even if I were not an orc, she would have to be out of her mind to choose a lonelier life with an orc, far from her people, higher up the mountains.
Away from all these comforts they've built.
Their massive fires, long log-seats, thick leather tents and big, human gatherings.
Their maps and bows and arrows and spears, and fancy clothes.
She would lose all of that if she came home with me.
Indecision yanked me back and forth. To stay or to leave. To take a chance on Eden, or to let her go.
The next day, into the night, I steered clear of patrollers, but there were a few close calls. It is difficult to hide my tracks. So, after another evening watching Eden sleep, two days after she'd last left her village, and met me at the waterfall, I decided to walk home.
To my cave.
To my small fire. To my big, empty bed. To my hot springs and simple, quiet life.
And I thought of Eden.
Days passed, and I couldn't stop thinking of her. I visited with other orcs, who couldn't believe I'd grown fond of a human. Their company did nothing to ease my stress, so I left them and returned to my cave alone. They didn't understand how special she was.
I kept picturing her all alone, surrounded by people who didn't appreciate her.
I know what she chose, and that wasn't me. But perhaps I should see if she is okay. Just check in on her, to see her one more time.
I wavered in the decision for a few more days.
But I couldn't stop picturing her face as I had seen it last, alone under the stars. The downturn of her pretty lips. The sparkle snuffed from her eyes.
Finally, early one morning, I woke up, determined.
It would not hurt just to see, and maybe, if I could get close enough, to ask. Just once, just one more time, if there was a way we could meet, even occasionally, by the waterfall. A way we could be together, even sometimes.
It would not have to be for sexual relations.
I enjoyed her company. I liked how small and sweet she was, hearing her thoughts and seeing the wonder in her eyes as she took in all the forest creatures around us.
How she squealed with delight when I held her and dove beneath the waterfall and how she loved how high up she felt in my arms—she said she felt like she was flying.
It would be too much, too soon—too absurd—to expect her to leave with me, to ask if she could be mine. But perhaps after a week apart, if she still had a down-turned smile and all the light, effervescent joy was missing from her eyes, she might agree to see me on occasion.
And that would be enough for me. It would have to be.
Approaching her village with caution, I decide to wait until dark to see if she still sleeps alone along the northern border. I could throw berries at her to get her attention. I chuckle to myself, thinking of her reaction. She'd squeal and tease me back.
I'm so focused on Eden, thinking of seeing her again later tonight, that I don't notice the patrollers are on me until it's too late.
"Halt, orc!" one guard shouts. The word orc reverberates through the patrol, each man picking up and shouting the word to the next, until they are all on alert. I'm surrounded in minutes, and have no chance to hide.
Raising my hands, I call out, "I mean no harm!" but they keep shouting and waving their sticks. One guard moves in close with his spear. I snatch it and snap it in half.
Another, emboldened by his friend's loss, moves in behind him, then another, and before I know it, a crowd is on me. I try not to hurt them, but they keep poking, their rage building from angry shouts to fearful, guttural screams.
One spear pierces my abdomen, high enough to catch my ribs. It hit bone, and hurts, but thankfully, doesn't dig any deeper.
But I'm down, and bleeding, and the humans keep coming. Like ants on a carcass.
I can't get away.
I could kill them all. It would take a little effort, but I could do it.
But what would that do to Eden? Would I be killing her friends? Her family?
I could run away, but I don't want to leave her here, not now, not with these blood-thirsty humans.
For Eden, I let them bring me down. Another stab in my side makes me grunt. I snap another spear, but there are too many. I hold up my arms and try to block the attacks.
And I kept thinking of Eden.
I may die here, at their hands. And I'd never get to see her again.
That's the real tragedy.
Eden
Since returning to camp, I've felt like a different person. Skyler kept her mouth shut about Ulack, but she treats me like a pariah. I sleep alone outside.
I don't know why she thinks I like to listen to Ergo and the other men fuck her. I don't. It's not like I can turn off my ears. Sharing tents is common in our village, I'm not doing anything wrong by staying to sleep beside them. She does the same when I take someone into my furs.
It's like she knows I'm a freak, even though I've never really told her the depth of my depravity—she can see it in my eyes, smell it on me. And use it against me. She made me sound so nefarious. So wrong.
And now, my only friend has turned on me.
And I still miss Ulack.
They put me back on foraging duty, but told me I can't leave the village alone. I don't know anyone else who has ever been under such restrictions before. Perhaps Skyler told on me after all, and the elders don't trust me to leave by myself, afraid I'll lead a horde of orcs back here.
The uncharitable thoughts kick in again. Would serve them right, I muse.