15. Thrag

15

THRAG

T he biting cold nips at my skin, a familiar companion in this harsh wilderness. As I trudge through the snow, I can hear Claire's laughter, her pleas echoing in my mind. It’s a haunting melody I can't silence.

"Forget her," I growl to the wind.

Yet, as I put distance between myself and the human settlement, her face remains etched in my memory. I shake my head, trying to dislodge the image, but it clings to me.

When I’m about halfway between the settlement and my lair, the guttural sound of laughter pierces the stillness of the afternoon. I duck behind a boulder, my senses on high alert. The voices are unmistakable—Icefang orcs. Their cruelty is as legendary as their resistance to the cold.

Peering out from my hiding place, I see the pale blue orcs gathered around a fallen beast. They carve into its flesh with sadistic glee. Its cries of agony are a gruesome symphony to their twisted amusement.

"Look at this one squirm," one of them sneers. "It's almost as if it doesn't enjoy our company."

The others erupt into laughter, a sound that sets my teeth on edge.

"That human settlement is next," another Icefang declares, his voice brimming with malice. "We'll take the women, kill the rest. Burn it all to the ground."

A red haze descends over my vision as their words sink in. The thought of Claire and her people falling prey to these monsters ignites a fire within me—a primal need to protect.

The Icefangs are known for their ruthlessness. They are the antithesis of all that is good and honorable in the orcish code. I have spent many moons trying to outrun the shadow of my past, to forget the horrors I have witnessed and the blood that stains my hands. But now, faced with the prospect of more innocent lives being snuffed out, I find myself at a crossroads.

I could walk away. I could leave these orcs to their savagery and continue my solitary existence, unburdened by another's welfare. Yet, as I watch them from the shadows, a sense of responsibility takes root in me. Claire's voice rings in my ears, her words about hope and love resonating with a part of me I thought long dead.

I know what I must do. I will not stand by while these monsters lay waste to the settlement—to Claire's home. I am no hero. But I am a warrior, and I will not let the Icefangs destroy the fragile spark of hope that Claire has fought so hard to kindle in her people's hearts.

I crouch low, my muscles coiling like a spring as I prepare to confront the orcs. My heart beats a steady rhythm in my chest, a drumbeat of impending battle.

As I step out from behind the boulder, my axe gleaming in the pale sunlight, I utter a silent promise to the woman who has unwittingly become my greatest weakness—and my most unexpected source of strength.

"I will keep you safe, Claire," I vow. "Even if it costs me my life."

I stalk the periphery of the Icefang orcs' gathering, my grip on my axe as unyielding as the resolve hardening in my chest.

One of the orcs strays from the group. A growl rumbles in my throat as I seize the opportunity. My axe slices through the air, finding its mark with deadly precision. The Icefang's head separates from his shoulders in a spray of crimson.

The remaining orcs whirl around, their snarls echoing through the forest as they charge toward me with bloodlust in their eyes.

There are ten of them, their numbers daunting even to an alpha like me. But the thought of Claire's face fuels my resolve. I will not falter.

I meet their charge head-on, my axe a deadly extension of my will. Each swing is a declaration of my intent to protect what matters. The clash of steel against steel, the crunch of bone yielding to my strength, the cries of pain as my enemies fall—it is a grim dance.

Yet, despite my skill, an Icefang's blade finds a gap in my defenses, slicing across my side. The pain is sharp, a white-hot lance that sears through my concentration. Another orc, sensing weakness, breaks away from the melee, fleeing into the night to summon reinforcements, no doubt.

But I do not relent. I will not be the cause of more despair for Claire and her people. With a roar that shakes the very heavens, I redouble my efforts. My axe becomes a blur of motion, reaping a brutal harvest among the Icefangs. One by one, they fall, their lifeblood seeping into the snow.

When the dust settles, seven Icefangs lay dead at my feet. The remaining two, their courage faltering in the face of my relentless assault, turn and flee. I consider giving chase, but the wound in my side throbs with each heartbeat, a stark reminder of my own vulnerability.

Instead, I turn my attention to the orcs' camp. I grab a loose piece of wood out of the fire and set their provisions and shelter on fire. The flames consume the camp with a fierce hunger.

Leaving the burning camp behind, I begin the arduous trek back to Claire's settlement, my body screaming in protest with each step. The adrenaline that fueled my rampage ebbs away, leaving me shivering and weak. My vision blurs, the edges of my consciousness fraying as I push myself to the limit.

The lights of the settlement flicker in the distance, guiding me through the encroaching darkness. Yet, as I draw closer, my strength wanes, the blood loss from my wounds painting a grim picture of my chances of reaching the gates.

I stumble and fall, my body sprawling in the snow just beyond the reach of the settlement's lights.

The world around me grows quiet. But I can hear Claire's voice, a soft whisper against the silence of my failing senses. Her face is the last thing I see as my eyes flutter closed.