Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

STEVE

T he waves crashed on the shore steadily, soothing my frayed nerves. While our time at the seafaring tribe of the Vátrfírar hadn't gone the way I'd hoped, I could finally see the ocean. I wondered how similar it was to the sea on Earth that Mom had spent years describing to me. She'd talked about how she fell asleep listening to the waves each night in the little house she lived in before she was abducted. There was a lot Mom did not miss about planet Earth—her abusive partner and her lack of purpose came up often—but she always smiled when she talked about the beach.

At first, Dad promised to take her to see the ocean in Niflheim. But once I was born, he grew so protective of me that he didn't want us to leave Snaerfírar up in the mountains. He argued that I was too small and that it was dangerous to make the days-long journey. I argued that though I was smaller than the other orklings in our tribe, I was still sturdy enough to travel on a hestr. Let's wait until you are a little bit older was repeated time and time again.

All that talk of going to the beach came to an abrupt halt when Mom died before I even hit my teenage years. Losing her had shaped the rest of my adolescence, and on top of that Dad retreated into isolation. I didn't bring her up often because Dad couldn't get through a conversation about her. I still grieved her every day, but it was no longer an open wound. Yet, last summer, Dad passed as well. It had been over fifteen years since Mom died, and he'd done his best to be a happy and loving father, but I knew his soul ached for her. I was devastated that I only had enough of Mom in me to remind him of what he'd lost. Dad had been everything to me after Mom died. Now, I was essentially an orphan in a tribe where I never really felt settled. I wanted to be happy that Dad had finally found peace, but I was bitter that I'd been given to amazing parents only to have them ripped from me far too soon.

And now I stood, the only member of my immediate family left, with a whole wide world of possibility in front of me—I'd dragged my tribemates halfway across Niflheim to connect with other orkin. I tried to think of what Mom would want me to do, of what Dad would want. I wanted to see the ocean. Mom would be happy that I finally did that. I wanted to meet the other orkin on Niflheim. Maybe there would be another place where I felt I fit better. Vátrfírar was isolated up in the Fjall Mountains, rarely trading with or encountering the two other tribes we knew existed on our continent. Thanks to my mom's instilling an adventurous spirit in me, I was a wanderer. I wanted to see what else the world had to offer. I wasn't satisfied with Snaerfírar, I needed to know what else was out there.

Unfortunately, outside of the glorious ocean with its green-blue waters and foam-tipped waves, the Vátrfírar tribe was a bummer. I'd dragged my tribemates halfway across Niflheim to connect with other orkin, and the first tribe we visited turned out to be utterly lame. We talked in circles with them about how we could build relationships and communicate better, but the entire time, they had their big stupid guards watching us, suspicion evident on their faces. They didn't even trust us to eat meals with them. I rolled my eyes as I urged my hestr, Epli, forward. I should have listened to my gut and had us head to Fyrifírar first. I'd met Piper and Agnarr the winter before. Piper was losing it about the whole matebond thing. Which was fair, as humans didn't have mates. Though Mom and Dad had been mated for a long time before they had me, Mom still found it odd. Piper and Agnarr seemed much more open about interacting with other tribes. They'd willingly sought us out to figure out how to best care for Piper and their other humans. I was hopeful things would go better with Fyrifírar.

Piper and Agnarr's visit made me realize that maybe it wasn't just that I was a half-orc that made me feel like I didn't fit—maybe my tribe wasn't a good fit. From the sound of the way the Fyrifírar lived, it seemed like I would be surrounded by a much more robust community. What started as a passing idea became a fixation as we hunkered down for the snowy season. The itch to explore and meet others festered until I knew I needed to make a plan.

I was prepared for the elders to react poorly to me wanting to explore, being generally distrustful of other orkin. At first, I thought of stealing away at night. But I was at least rational enough to realize I would need the help of others if I wanted to travel, especially at the end of the cold season. I couldn't get the idea of seeing more of Niflheim and meeting others out of my head. I confided in my oldest friend, Reykr. He was at least ten árs older than I, and had stepped in as a combination of older brother and uncle when my parents passed.

He didn't love the idea of meeting other orkin, but as one of our trained guards, he hadn't gotten to use his skills in ages. He was willing to go on my mission with me, "for the adventure," as he said. I don't think he expected us to make any connections, but he was bored of Snaerfírar and hadn't met anyone to settle down with. We convinced a few other orkin to join us, now that Reykr had said he was up for the adventure. They doubted there was any merit to building relationships with the other tribes. Violence and competition were the orkin way of life, they told me. There was no point in trying to build bridges. I secretly thought Tyr and Berit were coming hoping to start fights with the other tribes. They weren't that bright.

With Reykr's influence, we got permission to go on an "exploratory mission," as the elders referred to it. I was the official representative, with the guards there to help should any trade negotiations occur. So far, zero negotiations.

Epli gave out an impatient chuff beneath me and I pulled my thoughts back together. Shit, the sun was already setting. We should have stopped for dinner ages ago. At this point, we'd be trying to make camp in the dark.

"Reykr! Why didn't you alert me it was time to stop for the evening meal?"

"I did. Twice," he snapped.

I flushed a deep green. I must have been so lost in thought that I didn't hear Reykr calling to me. Now he was annoyed. And probably hungry. "I'm sorry, I was thinking of what Fyrifírar might be like."

He grumbled. "If they are anything like Vátrfírar will you at least let me punch some of them?" .

"No. Absolutely not."

Reykr muttered under his breath, adjusting himself in his harness. He was one of the biggest orkin of our tribe. Even with the size of our hestrs, he was uncomfortable riding all day, so I pulled Epli off of the trail, with Reykr and the rest of the Snaerfírar following. It didn't take us long before we found a small clearing where we could make camp. There were four of us so we had only brought two tents. Tyr and Berit set up one tent while Reykr and I set up another and then headed to them wordlessly. We were all exhausted.

I was anxious to get to the next tribe, but we needed to rest. This whole stupid thing was my idea and the stonewalling we received from Vátrfírar when we tried to talk trade would have made me give up entirely if I didn't have the hope of Agnarr and Piper in my mind. If we followed the plan, we still had to visit the Fyrifírar tribe before heading back up the Fjall Mountains to our boring home nestled up in the frozen peaks.

With both the tents set up, we fed and watered our hestrs before letting them rest for the evening. I volunteered to take first watch, Reykr joining me. He couldn't stop protecting me if his life depended on it. I reminded him—regularly—that I was of age, well past it. I tried not to let it get under my skin, but the whole tribe treated me like an irresponsible younger brother. I had gotten in my fair share of trouble when I was an orkling. One time, I got so tired of being cold that I tried to rebuild the fire while my parents slept. I nearly burned our house down. Then there was the time I tried to go surfing on our lake, as mom had explained to me, and nearly drowned. But all of my childhood mishaps were in the past. I wanted to prove I was a full-fledged tribe member and could contribute. And be trusted with firewood.

Reykr and I stood, alert, at the edge of the clearing. We didn't expect any trouble from other orkin, but the forest could be alive with predators. It was still early for them to come out of their winter hiding holes but a night watch was still the safest bet. We stood, watching, in companionable silence for quite a while until Reykr cleared his throat.

"As much as I enjoyed getting out of the confinement of Snaerfírar, where do you see this going? Is this just an excuse to get out of helping the tribe to prepare for the spring?" Reykr rumbled in his deep voice.

"I meant what I said when I explained to the elders that I wanted to connect with other tribes. We're so isolated up in the damn snow. I think we could all benefit from more exchange with the other tribes—and not just goods. I mean an exchange of ideas and ways of thinking," I explained.

"And this has nothing to do with being the only half-orc?"

I hesitated. I had kept my feelings of discontent to myself, not wanting my tribe to think I was ungrateful for my position and the love they'd shown me. But if I could trust anyone, it was Reykr.

"Maybe it is," I whispered into the night air. "Maybe I want to meet more orkin like me. Not just half-orkin, but orkin that are more willing to exchange technology, new ways of thinking—more progressive ideas about society. Maybe I want to see if I will feel less out of place."

"And now that you've seen Vátrfírar, do you think you'd be better suited with them?" There was no accusation in Reykr's voice, just quiet curiosity.

"Um, no. As Mom would say, they were jerks. They are just as isolated as we are—if not more. It was nice to see the ocean, though. Mom always talked about the comfort the sound of crashing waves brought her. At least I got to see that for myself. She'd like to know that I finally got out and explored." I ended on a wistful note.

I absently rubbed at the pendant around my neck. My mom had always told me it was sea glass, created by years of ocean waves. It was one of the few possessions she had with her when she was taken from her home world, a small fragment of her that I wore everywhere I went. I pulled myself out of my thoughts to realize Reykr was staring at me, eyes filled with sympathy.

"You missing your parents?" he asked.

"Mom has just been weighing on me." Since Dad passed, I have considered what Mom would want for me. "The idea that she had all these beautiful dreams about what the sea would be like here, and she never got to see it."

"Maybe," Reykr said, "You are putting all your hopes on Fyrifírar now, and I don't want to see you disappointed again."

"I know, I know." I sighed. "I just have to believe that they will be different. Agnarr and Piper were set to be the new leaders of Fyrifírar and said there were other human women. If they were willing to take in literal aliens they have to be more accepting of orkin from other tribes... Right?" I trailed off.

"Maybe." He shrugged. "Or maybe they will view us as competition and attack us in our sleep."

"Well, aren't you a delight?" I grumbled.

"I'm just saying, don't be shocked if it doesn't go according to your plan."

"Fine, fine." I waved at him. "I am approaching Fyrifírar with an open mind. It could go either way."

I'd let Reykr think I wasn't putting all my hopes on the forest orkin, even if I still was. We settled down for the night, and I fell asleep once again, dreaming of a tribe where a traveler would be welcomed. Perhaps I'd already found it.