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Surely his tribe can’t be all that bad …
“Please,” I say before I lose my nerve, “take us with you.”
He startles, his mouth falling open with surprise. I don’t think he expected to hear that, yet … I get the impression that he’s not disappointed.
“The journey is a hard one,” he replies. “Fraught with perils that make a handful of poorly trained orcs seem like a walk in a meadow.”
Poorly trained? Fuck me, those orcs were elite troops as far as I was concerned. Then again, this guy took them out one by one, and he only has a couple of scrapes, including the one over his eye that makes him look like he’s wearing face paint.
“It’s dangerous everywhere if you’re a human.” I heft Laney’s body in my arms and struggle to my feet. “Please, my sister and I, we don’t have anything left to us any longer. The orcs … that is, the other orcs burned our wagon.”
His eyes dart to the pile of ash that used to carry everything we had. A low grunt escapes his throat, seemingly non-committal. Yet his eyes teem with frustration at the wastefulness of his kin.
“Humans do dwell among the Shattered Rock tribe.” His voice is a granite growl as if he’s trying to intimidate me into abandoning this clearly foolhardy idea. “But that does not mean their lot is an easy one. Humans work to provide food for the orcs, who in turn protect the humans.”
“It sounds better than slavery,” I say and mean it. “Look, I’m not afraid of hard work, and neither is Laney. She can do a lot for a ten-year-old. She can weave, sew, carve, and craft almost as well as an adult.”
I’m trying to sell him on Laney, so he doesn’t leave her behind. Nothing about this kind orc has told me that he’s going to do any such thing, but you never know.
“I did not say I was unwilling.” His eyes narrow slightly. “I needed you to be aware that it is not a safe nor an easy journey and what will be expected of you once you arrive at our tribal lands.”
“I understand.”
“Then I will take you with me.”
My heart leaps with excitement, not to mention relief. Taking care of Laney on my own wouldn’t be impossible, but it would be arduous.
“Thank you. I really appreciate this, not to mention you saving us.” I offer my hand to him. “My name is Paige. You already know Laney’s name. What’s yours?”
“I am Jovak, called the Longstrider by my people.”
A slight snarl twitches at his lips when he gives his nickname. For some reason, I think he might not be fond of it.
“I can see why they call you that. You have some seriously long legs, like a giraffe.”
“Giraffe?” He tilts his head to the side.
“They aren’t native to this continent. Like a really, really tall deer with a long neck.” How do you describe a giraffe to someone who’s never seen one? Hell, I’ve never seen one either, except in the picture books Gramps salvaged from before the invasion.
“I see.” He looks at my sister and shakes his head. “She will not be able to walk for several days at least. I propose we take the Wyrm tribe’s wagon to replace the one you lost.”
“Well, we’d have to get the cage off it first.”
His eyes flash, and he goes over to the cage, grabbing it with his big, meaty paws. My first thought is that there is no way he is going to move that cage all by himself.
Then, he gives a grunt and the considerable muscles in his back flex. The cage flips end over end and crashes hard on the other side, deforming enough that the barred door no longer closes.
The two of us load up the jerky and hardtack bread onto the now empty wagon. Then I scavenge what linen I can find ... it’s hard to find a scrap of fabric not burned or stained with blood ... I create a little pallet for Laney.
We lay her down, and I stare at her pale face for a long moment. What if she doesn’t wake up? Or what if she has brain damage? That orc struck her viciously.
“Do not be afraid.”
I whip my gaze around to Jovak. He gestures at my sister.
“I have seen many head injuries. Your sister should make a full recovery. And the shamans can help her if she does not. You will see.”
He’s trying to make me feel better. My heart does this fluttery thing, and I find myself nodding and trying not to gush all over him.
