Taken
Hannah
Day turned to night and back to day again.
What once had felt like home had become a prison.
The bed, the plush pillows, everything that had once held warmth was now utterly grotesque to me.
I had begged. Had asked him over and over again to explain what had gone wrong.
Where I had gone wrong. Dishes full of food started to pile up at the entrance.
He wouldn’t even come inside anymore, refusing to see me.
I didn’t want to eat. I sat with my knees pulled to my chest, my arms wrapped around them and stared at nothing. I changed back into my old shift; it felt wrong to wear one of his shirts. It felt like taking something that no longer belonged to me.
Countless days spent in solitude had made my mind go numb. I had thought through every possible scenario over and over again, and I was tired. Tired of thinking. Tired of hurting. And yet, I still held on to hope — that whatever this was, it would resolve itself somehow. I wanted to trust him.
Daylight had started to fade a while back when I heard loud, heavy footsteps approaching.
The tent flap lifted.
“Drokahr,” I whispered as I turned toward what I thought was him.
But in the doorway wasn’t Drokahr.
It was Rohen.
“You will come with me,” he said, his tone harsh and commanding.
“Why?” I eyed him warily.
“You are no longer needed.”
“What?”
“He doesn’t want you anymore.”
The last sentence slapped me awake. My eyes widened in disbelief. No. This was wrong. This wasn’t happening.
I gulped, my throat tightening, tears threatening to spill over. “You are lying.”
“I am not.”
“You are,” I breathed, barely a sound.
“I do not need to lie to you.”
He stepped forward. I stumbled back, trying to put distance between us.
With two long strides he was in front of me, his hand closing around my arm.
Panic surged up my spine and into my head, making my thoughts clearer than they had been in days.
He dragged me toward the exit and into the cool, dark night.
“Let me go, please. I need to talk to Drokahr. This is a misunderstanding,” I begged. I twisted my arm, trying to break free, only hurting myself further. His iron grip never loosened as he dragged me along the dirt road.
“Let me speak to him,” I pleaded, again and again, begging him to let me go, to bring me to Drokahr. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. Tears streamed down my face. My chest felt tight; I could barely breathe.
Rohen ignored every plea. He dragged me into the forest. I stumbled over roots, my bare feet smashing against rocks, drawing blood. Still, he didn’t slow down.
Until we reached the clearing where I had once been dropped off long ago.
There stood the very same spacecraft that had brought me here — and with it, the very same reptilian waiting. I began to struggle harder, my heartbeat drumming in my ears.
“Drokahr! Drokahr!” I screamed desperately, hoping he would hear me. Hoping he would help me. Bring me to safety.
Rohen yanked me forward. A heavy rope was tied around my wrists, binding my arms.
“Good evenin’! Back again, eh?” the reptile laughed.
Rohen ignored him and dragged me up the loading deck. “Tie her down over there,” he said, pointing to the same seat I had once been strapped into.
“No! Stop! Stop this, please!” I screamed, my voice hoarse.
He ignored me, securing me to the seat. I sobbed uncontrollably, unable to form a sentence — unable to form even a single word. Over his shoulder, I heard Rohen say, “Leave,” just before the loading deck slowly began to close.
Drokahr
It was agony to be parted from her. Agony to see her like that. I started leaving food at the entrance, unable to look at her anymore. I am a coward, I thought, walking aimlessly through camp. I can’t even look her in the eyes. I brushed a hand over my face.
Solen had asked a few times about her. Where she was. If she was sick. He seemed genuinely concerned. And what could I tell him? I am the reason she hurts. I am the reason she isn’t allowed in camp anymore. I am the reason she is locked up.
“Hey, Drokahr,” a female voice shouted. Looking up, I saw Mor making her way toward me. Behind her, as always, was Tom.
“Where’s that pet of yours?” she asked once she stood in front of me.
“Not here,” I said curtly.
She eyed me suspiciously. “She well?”
I said nothing. What was I supposed to say? Of course she wasn’t.
“Is she sick?” Tom interjected.
I looked at the ground. Mor crossed her arms, staring at me. “You know if she’s sick, there are healers. No need to make it worse.”
Mor turned toward Tom. “Pet, do that thing with the flour and fruit for her.”
“You mean bake a cake?” he asked.
“That thing, yes!” Mor clapped her hands together.
Unable to bear the conversation any longer, I said, “She doesn’t need anything,” and left.
I made my way toward the training grounds. I needed to show up. Let Solkar see she wasn’t distracting me. Not wanting to train with anyone, I picked up an axe and started throwing it at a wooden target again.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another Orc approaching. Anger bubbled up in my chest. It was Kelek. We had trained together as children. I had made a name for myself; he hadn’t. He never got over that.
Grinning smugly, he stopped in front of me. “Hey… Drokahr.”
“What?” I said flatly, trying to keep my emotions in check. I knew he was trouble.
“So where’s that sweet pet of yours?” His grin broadened.
Did he know something? Had he heard what happened? What Solkar had said?
“Not here,” I responded, anger gnawing at my insides.
“Oh, a shame,” he cooed. “Such a sweet, pretty little thing. Don’t want her anymore?” He laughed. “You know what, give her to me. I will use her well.”
That was the last straw. I roared, clenched my fists, and struck him squarely in the face.
How dare he talk about Hannah like that?
Images of him touching her flashed through my mind.
I hit harder, blood splattering. Footsteps, voices, shouts surrounded me.
Then someone yanked me backward, gripping my hands, forcing me to stop.
I roared again. “Do not touch my mate!”
Kelek lay on the floor, skin and bones broken. His face was covered in blood. He looked up at me in utter shock. Breathing heavily, blood shot with every exhale. Two Orcs were at his side, aiding him.
“Drokahr,” I looked away from Kelek to see Solen.
His face held terror, eyes wide in shock.
I looked around and saw countless faces in disbelief at what I had done.
What I had said. I was dragged off, away from the training grounds, and pushed into an empty tent.
Left alone, the full extent of my confession and its consequences crashed over me.
Hannah. My mate. I shook my head, but it felt right.
I couldn’t deny the relief that came with finally naming what I felt.
It made sense. I knew that by declaring her as my mate in front of the clan, I had doomed us.
Taking a mate wasn’t allowed for a warrior.
I had broken a core rule. I would be punished for it.
Let them punish me, I thought, but leave her alone.
I needed to see her. As long as she was safe, as long as she could be by my side, I could endure anything.
So I waited.
At dusk, I was called into the chief’s tent.
It was crowded. Every warrior of the Khelaan clan was present, ready for my punishment.
Accusing stares met mine. I held my head high and walked toward Solkar.
He looked calm, yet anger simmered beneath the surface.
His lips were drawn thin, hands clutching the back of his chair.
“Drokahr of clan Khelaan,” his voice rang through the tent. “You stand before me today to receive your punishment.”
A murmur ran through the crowd. Solkar silenced it with a raised hand.
“You have viciously attacked another clan member. A brother of yours!” His voice grew louder. Then it dropped, snarling. “And you have taken a mate.”
“I wish to take Hannah as my mate,” I said, loud and clear.
Solkar grimaced. “This, Drokahr, is against the rules. One of the core rules a warrior of the Khelaan clan must obey.”
“I will take whatever punishment you deem necessary.”
“Oh, I know what I deem necessary, Drokahr.” Solkar looked past my shoulder. “Rohen.”
I turned.
“Is it done?”
Rohen nodded. “She is gone.”