Chapter 5

PALOMA

Iwish I knew what the orcs were saying as they ride alongside the cart, but only a few humans in our colony have language chips embedded behind their ears. Certainly no women.

Trying not to breathe while lying under the hay, I envision myself hyperventilating. I wasn’t made for deception. Trouble, yes. Deception, no. At least not to the point where my life depends on it.

Long, easy breaths. That’s what I need to focus on, which isn’t that hard until I hear one of the orcs barking out orders. It’s him, the brute who plans to breed me.

The cart eases to a halt, driving my heart into my throat. Soon, he’ll check on me. He isn’t the trusting type. Even now, his heavy voice presses down on my chest like a lead weight.

All I can think about is how the damn straw is scraping my face and neck. The urge to scratch is driving me crazy, but I force myself to remain still.

My owner snaps at one of the orcs. While I don’t know the words, I recognize the tone. Outrage. He doesn’t see me in the straw and believes I’ve escaped.

I almost jump when his voice booms across the cart. One orc-horse gallops off.

An hour ago, I considered jumping, but breaking a leg or twisting an ankle would have destroyed any chance of escaping. If I can make it into the woods without being seen, I can find my way to Pen’Kesh based on the position of the suns during the day. I hope.

With the cart stopped, I remain patient as I listen to more of the guttural Orcan language fly by. Stern words from the orc who kept my father from striking me, not because it was the right thing to do, but because he considers me his property.

The orcs will search south, southeast, and south west, the direction of New Earth. If I head due east, maybe north east to ensure I give the orcs a wide berth, then I have a good chance of avoiding them while heading to Pen’Kesh. Truthfully, I’d be fine with any direction other than north, where the cart is headed, or south, the direction of my colony.

I won’t return to New Earth. My father and the other councilmen would return me to the orcs. The Mayflower lands outside Pen’Kesh in a month. It could take me that long to find my way there. The idea of navigating these dangerous woods and possibly still not finding Pen’Kesh scares me, but the alternative, a lifetime as a breeder, terrifies me.

ATOX IM GRAK

As I leavemy gorja to graze and move to the cart, Sojek, the young male of only eighteen seasons who drives the cart, draws a blade and slaps it over his heart. My people respect me not because I demand it, but because I’ve earned it.

I don’t nod to Sojek, as that would be beneath me, but he knows I see him. I see everything because I have to be on guard at all times. When I peer inside the cart and discover the female gone, I grab Sojek by his neck and throw him to the ground, my long sword at his throat before he can speak.

“Where is my female?”

“I don’t know, Grak.”

That is not the answer I want. “Baloc, Telin, find my female!” I shout to my men as I slice along Sojek’s right cheek, spilling blood. He will learn from his mistake before more cutting becomes necessary.

“You lost my female, Sojek. Her fate becomes yours. If she is found broken, then I will break your bones in the same places as hers. If she is found missing a limb, then I will take your limb. And if she is found dead…”

“I will give my life for you, Grak.”

Again, not what I want to hear, but the male has the good fortune to look me in my eyes and not tremble. He is still young, unseasoned, and I promised his mother that I would not kill him, not unless I am forced to. Being my nephew doesn’t gain him any privilege, but I prefer not to have to tell my sister Ossa that I killed her youngling.

And my people think the grak before me, my father, was the one with a temper.

With my free hand, I yank Sojek from the ground and shove him face first into the straw in the back of the cart. “Take in her scent, then find her. And pray to the gods that she is unharmed, or your mother will have no younglings left.”

I would never kill his siblings for his actions. I wouldn’t even kill Sojek, but he doesn’t know that. The youngling walks in fear of me, though he hides it well. He has to, given our family history. I respect my sister, fear her a bit too, not that I would admit that to anyone.

Looking submissive before a female, even the daughter of a grak, would cause my people to lose faith in me. While I would kill for my sister, for any of my people, Ossa has our father’s capacity for treachery with intelligence that has saved her and her younglings through the purge and everything that followed. Still, I have to watch myself around her, as she can be manipulative, especially where her younglings are concerned. Ossa would be an exceptional grak, if she were male.

Sojek buries his face in the filthy straw. He will not miss this chance to correct his error. Unfortunately, the male has a pitiful nose, small, almost as small as my human female’s. Which is why he will never be a warrior. That and he doesn’t have the instincts of one.

Sometimes I wonder if he is a full-blood orc at all, except I knew his father. A strong orc, even though he wasn’t a warrior. I’ve always questioned Ossa’s choice in a male, but she’d been content with Gerell. And anything that assuages Ossa and her temper is a boon for me.

“Quickly, Sojek. Her trail is getting cold while you take in her scent. I’m already devising an explanation to give your mother for why you died at my hand. Or would you rather explain to her how you failed me?”

Ossa will not be pleased with him. As the daughter of a grak, she has high standards for her younglings, even one as soft as Sojek.

Sojek sniffs the air, trying to decide which direction my female took. The boy has a poor sense of smell, but he is not indecisive. He chooses a direction, south, and shoots off into the woods. I cannot help but grin as he runs. I wonder what he fears more, death or his mother.

I fear failing my people, of becoming as twisted and corrupt as my father. While thoughts of my sire darken my mood, I sheathe my sword and wait while my men spread out.

At last, my warriors and Sojek are gone, giving me the opportunity to draw in and savor the delectable scent of my female.

“You may come out now, female. It is time we talk, without anyone around.”

Nothing. No movement, no sound. The hay piled high in the cart doesn’t shift, but I know she’s there, hiding from me.

I lean on the side of the cart as my female remains hidden. She’s proven herself clever enough to fool my men and smart enough to know she cannot run from me. Because if she did and I caught her, nothing would save her from my wrath, not even her delightful scent that has left me harder than a rock since we left the human colony.

I’m growing impatient, waiting for her to emerge from beneath the hay. We are past the time for games. She will learn who is in charge here…