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“Yeah, but a full-blooded Orc male gets to at least eight or nine feet tall,” he told me. “I’m kind of a runt for my kind. And that made my life a living hell for a long time.”
“I’m really sorry,” I said.
I hadn’t thought there was any way someone as handsome and strong and extroverted as the big Orc could understand how small and weak and weird my Selective Mutism and the social anxiety that came with it could make me feel. Now I understood why Rath was so empathetic to my plight and so eager to help me get myself unbound. He got me in a way no other man ever had, because he’d been bullied as a kid too—albeit for different reasons.
“That must have been tough,” I said, since he hadn’t answered me.
“It was at the time, but I got through it.” He looked thoughtful. “I’m actually glad I was kicked out of my tribe for being a half-blood. Moving to Hidden Hollow and meeting your Grandma really helped get my life on a different track. I think moving here is going to do the same for you,” he added, smiling down at me. “As long as we can convince Baba Yaga to reverse her spell and unbind you.”
“Is it too dangerous to go see her?” I asked cautiously, remembering what Madam Healer had said about me needing a ‘champion.’”
“It can be—it depends on her mood.” He frowned. “But Sarah, I think we have to go. You need to be free of this binding.”
“I want to be free of it,” I said. “But I don’t want to put you in danger.”
Rath rumbled laughter.
“Look who you’re talking to! I’m a fucking Orc,” he reminded me. “If I can’t handle a little danger, I might as well have my tusks pulled out and grow a pair of wings like a fairy.”
“Okay, well…” I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “You really don’t mind helping me? I mean, you hardly know me.”
“I think we both know that isn’t true.” He cupped my cheek in one big hand and looked searchingly into my eyes. “We might not have known each other for very long, but that doesn’t make us strangers. Far from it, baby.”
I felt my cheeks flush under his gentle touch and the sweet nickname. He was right—we hadn’t known each other long, but there was definitely something between us—a connection I could neither explain nor deny. I felt seen by him in a way I never have been by any other man.
“All right,” I said rather breathlessly. “Then when do we leave?”
“Right now—as soon as you can get ready to go,” Rath told me. “It’s best to start in the morning, when the sun is still high.”
“Why—does it take all day to get to Baba Yaga’s house?” I asked.
“Hut—her hut,” he corrected me. “And it takes as long as she wants it to take. She likes to test the people who come to her—to make sure they’re worthy of her time. She doesn’t like to be disturbed by strangers unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“Great,” I muttered. “Just what I need—a meeting with a woman who’s even more socially withdrawn than I am.”
Rath laughed and then sobered.
“Seeking out Baba Yaga is no joke. We’ll have to be ready for anything. And since we’re going outside the barrier, be sure you pack something warm to wear.”
“But I’ve lived in Florida for most of my life—I don’t have anything warm,” I protested.
Rath frowned.
“You had on boots and a sweater yesterday—just wear a lot of layers like that.”
“Well, okay. Where are you going?” I asked, because he was headed for the front door.
“To my place to pack.” He turned his head. “And to get some weapons. It’s best to be prepared.”
Then he turned away, leaving me to wonder what in the world I was getting myself into.
CHAPTER TWENTY
To my relief, the closet in my room seemed to understand my needs. The minute I opened the door, I saw a brand new, heavy winter coat with a fur-lined hood hanging right where I couldn’t miss it. It was bright red and the fur that lined the hood was silvery gray—it was beautiful. It was also extremely heavy when I put it on, but I could tell right away that it would keep me warm.
There were fur lined boots to go with it, as well as a long, wooly scarf that looked hand-knitted and gloves that matched it. I saw some other cold weather clothes too and I folded them and put them in the backpack which had also magically appeared.
“Thanks, Grandma—and, uh, Grandpa Morris,” I said aloud, as I finished packing.
