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I just want to know him a little better.
I stare at him in profile. The light from the fire brings out the green of his skin and eyes, and scars that have long healed decorate most of his skin. His hair is shorter than most orcs, clipped tightly to his skull—is that because he’s lost his braid, or because he doesn’t care to keep one?
“Well. Wherever you came from, I’m glad I ran into you. And not just because wolves were about to eat me.”
He doesn’t laugh or smile, but he tears his eyes away from the woods to give me a small nod. Does that mean he’s glad he ran into me out here, too? Or is he glad I didn’t get eaten? Or is he just grateful I’ve stopped interrogating him?
I turn my attention back to the task at hand, but Hurian is distracting. Handsome, mysterious, heroic.
I can’t stop myself from glancing at him, wondering what happened to him. Is he sad about betraying his former clan to support ours? Something must have happened to drive him away from his own people.
Or maybe he wasn’t involved with the Bloodscar clan at all, and my imagination is too vivid. He wouldn’t be the first orc to show up to the Burning Sun clan alone. Everything could have been nothing more than a coincidence.
But there’s something I do know.
He’s sad.
I can see it in his eyes, a heavy weight that never quite leaves. Even now, as he scans the forest for threats, it's there. Did he lose someone close to him, or is he nursing a broken heart?
Maybe I should ask, but something tells me that out of the long list of things he refuses to talk about, this is on the top and underlined.
Still, I can’t help but imagine helping him heal. Holding him close as he confides in me, stroking his back—
He interrupts my thought spiral with his deep voice. “Dana?”
“Yes?”
“You’re burning the meat.”
11
HURIAN
Itake the last bite of my food and look at her as she finishes hers. Luckily she doesn’t catch my gaze because I’m sure I stare longer than I should. As she lifts her eyes from her food, I avert my gaze and look at my dish.
I can’t help myself. She’s captivating, even entrancing, and I can’t place my finger on it. Not only does it make me feel good knowing she wants and needs me for protection, but I’m starting to enjoy my time with her.
“Well, I needed that,” she comments with a laugh.
“It was good,” I respond with a grin. “I’ll try to find us more soon.”
“So,” she begins as she grabs my plate from in front of me and walks it to the sink. “Want to come with me while I get some herbs?”
“Is this the medicine you were speaking of?”
“Yes, it is!” she exclaims and smiles at me like I’ve just offered her a generous sum of money.
I’m surprised by her enthusiasm about herbs. I can’t imagine they’re all that interesting, but I suppose herbs are to her like my walks are to me. Something others might not find unique or exciting, but they mean a lot to the person involved.
“I’d love to join you,” I say as I stand and walk to the front door.
I grab my shoes from beside the front door and my bow and arrow, wiping the blood off the arrow's tip before turning around. I turn, and she is right in front of me, reaching for her shoes. We come face-to-face, and I grin nervously and step aside.
“Sorry,” she chuckles as she pulls on her shoes.
“No, my fault.”
I rub the back of my head and close my eyes, frustrated with myself. Anything I do that isn’t impressive to her feels almost idiotic now. I get embarrassed and nervous quickly around her the past two days, and I’m surprised as to why. I’m the leader of the two of us; if anything, I should feel proud and confident.
