17. Thrag

17

THRAG

T he snow crunches under my boots, each tentative step leaving a deep imprint in the white blanket that covers the settlement. My body aches, muscles protesting every movement, but I won't let it show. Pride is all I have left, and I'll be damned if I let these humans see me falter.

Claire walks beside me, her arm linked through mine, a silent pillar of support. Her touch is light, but I feel it like a brand against my skin. She's a beacon of warmth in this frozen wasteland, and for a moment, I forget that I'm an orc, a beast among these humans.

The settlement is a hive of activity, with villagers casting wary glances our way. Children clutch at their mothers' skirts, their eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and terror. I see myself reflected in their gazes—a monster.

"Through here," Claire says as she guides me toward a wooden building that houses their council. The weight of my axe is a familiar comfort on my back, its presence a stark reminder of the world I come from.

The council room is cramped. The air is thick with the stench of old wood and stale sweat. The leader, Vincent, and the elders sit at a worn table. Their expressions range from suspicion to outright hostility. I plant my axe beside me, the blade sinking into the wooden floor with a satisfying thud.

"Icefangs," I growl, my voice echoing off the walls. "They're coming. Your settlement will burn."

The room erupts into murmurs, but one elder—a gaunt figure with a sneer—leans forward, his eyes narrowed. "How do we know you didn't lead them here yourself?" he accuses.

My hand itches toward my axe, but I resist the urge to gut him where he sits. "If I wanted you dead," I say, my voice a low rumble, "you already would be."

Claire bursts into the room, her cheeks flushed with anger. "Stop it! He saved us—twice! How can you accuse him?" she asks, outraged.

The accusation stings more than I care to admit. I lower my gaze, the weight of their suspicion a heavy mantle on my shoulders.

Claire steps closer, her voice softening. "Thank you for coming back and warning us, Thrag," she whispers.

Vincent massages his temples. He soon interjects, his voice laced with resignation. "How are we supposed to survive this? Our walls won’t hold, and we can’t fight them."

I glance at the small children peeking through the door frame, their eyes wide with fear. "You can't," I say bluntly. "You'll have to leave."

The room falls into a heavy silence, the gravity of my words settling over them like a shroud. I watch as they grapple with the reality of their situation, their faces pale.

My chest tightens in frustration. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come back,” I mutter under my breath.

I'm about to turn away when Claire's hand wraps around my wrist. Her touch is a jolt of warmth in the icy room. "Wait," she implores, her eyes locking onto mine with a fierce intensity.

"You can help us," she insists, her fingers tightening around my wrist.

I frown, shaking my head. "I've done enough," I growl. "More than enough."

Her gaze doesn't waver. "There's a cave, a few kilometers from here," she says, her voice steady despite the tremor of desperation that underlines her words. "We can move there, build temporary shelters. It will be safe."

A harsh laugh escapes me. "You want me to move an entire settlement?" I ask, incredulous.

She nods, her determination a palpable force in the room. "With your help, we can do it. We can make it safe for the children, Thrag." She swallows, her eyes shining with conviction. "They deserve a chance," she urges.

Her words cut through my defenses, echoing the silent pleas of my own past—pleas that went unanswered when my clan needed them most. I see the faces of my sisters, their eyes filled with fear and hope, and for a moment, I hear my sister's voice, urging me to protect those who cannot protect themselves.

I exhale sharply, my resolve crumbling under the pressure of Claire's plea. "Fine," I say. "I'll help."

The room erupts into a cacophony of gasps and murmurs, but Claire's smile is a beacon of light in the chaos. She turns to address the council, her voice ringing out with newfound authority. "We have our plan," she declares. "With Thrag's help, we will survive this."

Vincent, the village leader, looks at me, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and wariness. "We'll need to prepare," he says, his voice steadier now. "Gather supplies, alert the hunters—everyone must do their part."

I nod, my mind already racing with plans and strategies despite my recovering injuries. "We'll start the planning," I say, my voice carrying the burden of my promise. "I'll scout the area, make sure it's secure."

Claire's hand slips from my wrist, but her presence is a constant warmth at my side. "Thank you, Thrag," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the din of the council room.

I grunt in response, unsure how to handle the swell of emotions rising within me. I'm not used to gratitude, to being seen as something other than a monster. It's unsettling, yet part of me craves it—craves her.

As the council disperses, Claire and I are left alone in the room. She turns to me, her brown eyes reflecting the flickering torchlight. "We'll need to work together," she says, her tone pragmatic. "Can you do that?"

I meet her gaze, my jaw clenching. "I'm not good with... people," I admit, my voice gruff. "But I'll do what needs to be done."

Her lips curl into a small smile. "That's all any of us can do," she says softly.

For a moment, we stand there in silence, the tension between us a tangible force. I can feel the pull of her, the magnetism that draws me in despite my better judgment. She's like a flame, and I'm the moth, helplessly drawn to her light.