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The leather strips that made up the dead king’s skirt drape down to mid-thigh on me. I’d cut the waistband in half and use two strips knotted together to bind across my breasts. His vest was the most difficult to re-size. I’d ended up cutting the length from the bottom off so it hit the top of my waistband and calling it good.
But before we burned his body, I salvaged a tusk and constructed a crude pendant. I’m not sure why, I did it without thinking and for once, the male orcs were quiet as I knocked it from his gums and boiled it clean.
Spooked, in fact. I find that curious and file that fact away for future use.
The leather strip I used to wrap around it is tied around my neck now and the excess loops round and round my wrists. ‘Tis not easy to cut leather so thin and I’m not about to waste the extra.
Besides, making a type of makeshift wrist bracer feels important. Familiar.
The wounds on my forehead have healed and it’s obvious by how proportionate the ink settled that I’ve tatted before.
I tuck that detail away.
That’s not a detail I’ll have to beg out of Stug. Half the day’s gone by before I leave the creek and re-dress. Guiltily, I glance around the quiet woods. I’ve not paid attention to my surroundings and anyone could have snuck up on me. In fact, now that I’m aware of it, I’m spooked. The woods suddenly feel eerie, as if I’m watched.
It’s too quiet. Not a bird coos, nor branches rustle. No twigs snap.
That means no wild animals are nearby and that’s not natural. Definitely, something has agitated the animals from their natural habitat. I was a fool for lounging about in the water so long, the only pleasure in my mind to avoid my clan.
I put myself in danger for that small pleasure. Hurriedly, I leave the creek, more aware of my surroundings now.
Stealthily, I slip back toward camp. It’s obvious the males aren’t expecting me because their voices are low and grumbly.
Apparently, I’m a sneaky sort because I pause, hiding behind a tree so I can hear what they talk about.
“He said they’d tear the land apart looking for the female,” Gnark says. “They’re putting the word out in all the towns. They’ve been to Collins and ‘querque.”
“Probably best to head home since they’ve already been there.”
“You’re not any more welcome there than we’d be in Collins,” Grilud says.
Blackhearts. The name comes to me suddenly. That’s why Grilud, Doparth, Gnark, and even the dead Wruk look different. Why they dress different than Stug and Shodun. They mimic the Blackheart look.
But why? Are they hiding by wearing their clothes? Obviously, since there are places they must avoid. Yet why do Stug and Shodun not dress the same?
“We’ll leave tomorrow. No one will suspect that we’ll head back to Collins.”
“We’ll have to pass Creede to get there.”
“So?”
Doparth says something I can’t hear. What is this Creede and what makes it important? While I’m not sure, I think it’s someplace I don’t want to go.
They hush immediately when I re-enter the camp, humming as I set the stew to boil.
“What are you so happy about?” Stug scowls.
I finger my pendant, pretending not to notice when his eyes fall there. It makes him wary of me and that makes me happy. “Not sure. The full moon is coming. The nights are lighter.”
“I hate the full moons,” Grilud barks. “I’ll take the tent from here on out. Since you love the light so much, you sleep outside until it passes, Jogug.”
I shrug, pretending nonchalance, but I’m happy as a lark. I only sleep inside the tent with the smelly breath of my mate filling the area when he insists.
I finish chopping the few vegetables we have. It seems our males are the lazy sort, everyone wanting everyone else to forage for food. Well, my appetite isn’t up to speed. Besides, when I get away from the fools, I’ll be able to dig up roots to nibble later. Something to build my strength while they whine about being hungry.
Stug eyes me, but I’m not fooled. He’s up to something to retaliate since I avoided sleeping in his tent.
“You know,” he says softly, more caring than I’ve ever heard him, “despite your captivity by the West Mountains, you were lucky. Many half breeds are put to death. They are the only clan that have allowed some to live.”
