Oran
Part of me still flinches at her every touch. Another part of me…feels comforted to know she’s there.
We’re lying on the floor of the cave, her on top of me, using me as her own personal mattress as she runs her hand up and down my chest muscles. She’s so small I could crush her, so delicate it terrifies me that somebody might try to hurt her ever again. I can’t let that happen. I’ll always protect her, always watch over her.
“Do you still want me to leave?” I ask playfully.
She shakes her head. “No, but…”
“But what? Say it and it will be. From now until forever, I promise you, Drozna, that you will want for nothing.”
She chuckles. “You make it sound like a solemn duty or something.”
“It is. It is my duty. My everything. Oran is your hero now.” I put my fingers beneath her chin and gently turn her face up to mine. “Tell me what you need.”
Her eyes are glassy, dreamy, like she’s still on the edge of pleasure. It pleases me to know it was me that put her there. “I need to go back to my family. I don’t want you to leave but…they must be terrified for me. We need to let them know I’m safe.”
I nod. “Yes. I know how they feel. We will go. Soon.”
“Soon?”
“First, I need to taste you again.”
* * *
As the lightspreads across the sky, the sails of the boats in the marina come into view. Stepping from the edge of the forest with my tiny girl in my arms, I finally see this place the way she must. The red sunlight reflecting from the water, the wind gusting, forming small waves that lap at the dock.
The place is in need of some repairs, but nothing the help of a few orcs couldn’t fix. I will do this.
“I can walk, you know,” she says, and I nod.
“Can, but won’t. Not now. I carry you, I carry our son.”
She laughs. “Our son? What are you even talking about…?”
“Ivy!”
I lift my head and see the old man standing on the porch. His face is lined with worry, but his eyes are hard. He’s looking at me with fury, and for a moment I can’t figure out why.
“Let her go, you orc bastard! If you’ve laid a finger on my granddaughter, I’ll—”
He’s starting our way, puffing out his chest as he balls his hands into fists. He has a hundred yards to cover to get to us, but he just keeps on marching like he’s going to war. I like this man. He is like an orc. Furious, protective. Small and weak, yes, but with spirit.
I grin at the thought, and he grits his teeth. “Don’t you laugh at me, you big ugly brute! Just you wait and see, us Emersons are tougher than we look.”
Ivy is giggling as she pushes herself out of my arms, and I lower her gently to the ground. “Grandpa, no. This is Oran, he isn’t one of them, he…” She turns and meets my eyes, then smiles as she turns back to face him. “He saved me from them.”
Her grandpa looks at me with suspicion. “Hesaved you?”
She nods. “Uh huh. Oran, this is my grandpa. Shake hands please.”
The old man still doesn’t look convinced, but he reluctantly sticks out his hand as he gets up close. I take it gratefully, repeating the gesture I’ve seen from other humans.
If we’re going to be family, we should be friends.
“I did put a finger on her,” I tell him honestly, wanting to get it out in the open. “More than one actually, and not justonher—”
“No!” Ivy steps between us, pulling our hands apart as she glares at me, open-mouthed. Her grandpa is giving the same expression, only his eyes are darting from me to her and back again like he’s trying to watch a bee. “He doesn’t need to hear any of that, Oran. Grandpa, it’s—”