20. Claire

20

CLAIRE

T he soft thud of a snowball against Thrag's back jerks me from the quiet moment we're sharing. I gasp, my hand flying to my mouth in surprise as I spin around to see the children. Their laughter fills the air. Their faces are alight with the kind of joy that only a snowball fight can bring. Thrag, on the other hand, looks like he's about to unleash a fearsome orcish war cry.

"Sorry, Thrag!" I call out, my laughter joining theirs. "It's the children playing snowball fight."

He turns to me, his amber eyes wide with bewilderment. I can't help but laugh at the sight of him—a massive orc warrior, the embodiment of strength and ferocity, with a splatter of snow melting on his broad back. His usual stoic expression has given way to something much more endearing.

I watch him, my lips parted in a silent plea for him to play along. His gaze shifts from me to the children, and slowly, a grin spreads across my face. "You're supposed to throw one back," I say, scooping up a handful of snow and packing it into a tight ball.

Thrag's eyes narrow, and for a moment, I think he might actually join in. Then another snowball hits him, this one catching him right in the chest. The children dissolve into fits of laughter, pointing and cheering as Thrag stands there, an unmovable mountain amidst a flurry of white.

"Aaron!" I shout, spotting the culprit. The boy's eyes go wide, and he takes off running. I can't help but join the chase, my own snowball at the ready.

I hurl it at Aaron, but it sails over his head and hits another boy square in the back. The children erupt into laughter once more, their shouts of glee piercing the crisp winter air. Snowballs start flying toward me, and I raise my arms in a futile attempt to shield myself.

And then Thrag is there, his massive hand engulfing mine. Our fingers intertwine, and I feel a jolt of warmth. "Run!" I laugh, pulling him gently away from the onslaught of snowballs.

To my surprise, Thrag moves with a speed and grace that belies his size and injuries. His long strides eat up the ground, and I can't help but laugh as he scoops me up easily, carrying me away from the chaos like some kind of mythic hero.

"Thrag! Put me down!" I giggle, but my arms instinctively wrap tightly around his neck anyway.

The children's laughter echoes behind us, a delightful cacophony that lightens the otherwise heavy silence of the winter landscape.

Thrag slows to a halt, his chest heaving from the overexertion. We turn to see the kids panting, their rosy cheeks puffing out small clouds of mist with every breath.

"That's not fair, Miss Claire!" Aaron protests, his hands on his hips. "You've got the biggest snowball thrower on your side!"

I can't help but chuckle at the comparison. Thrag, the towering orc who could inspire legends with his fearsome reputation, reduced to a mere "snowball thrower." I release my hold on him and drop to the ground, the cold snow a welcome shock against my skin.

"Come on, Thrag," I say, beckoning him with a playful smile. "Lie down with me and take a break."

His eyes flicker with a mix of confusion and curiosity, but he complies, lowering his massive form onto the snow beside me. The ground crunches under his weight, and I can't suppress the giggle that escapes my lips.

"See?" I say, spreading my arms out. "You have to enjoy the small things. The crispness of the snow, the laughter of the children, the way the sun shines in the sky."

Thrag watches me intently, his expression softening in a way I've come to cherish. His amber eyes, usually so guarded, now seem to reflect the serenity of the moment. I reach out, my fingers brushing against his cheek. His skin is surprisingly warm, a stark contrast to the biting cold around us.

Our gazes lock, and for a moment, the world seems to fade away. His eyes, I realize, are more than just a striking color. They're a window into a soul that's been through more pain and turmoil than anyone should have to endure. And yet, here he is, lying in the snow with me, sharing a brief moment of peace and relaxation.

"Claire!" a chorus of voices calls out, breaking the spell. The children have regained their energy and are eager for more fun. "Will you help us build another snowman?"

I sit up, a reluctant sigh escaping me. "Duty calls," I say with a wink, pushing myself to my feet. I offer Thrag a hand, which he accepts, allowing me to help pull him up.

As we walk back toward the group of waiting children, I can't help but marvel at the transformation that's taking place before me. Just days ago, Thrag was a solitary figure, a stranger in our midst. Now, he's an integral part of our community, a protector who's slowly earning the trust of the villagers.

"Alright, kids," I say, clapping my hands together. "Let's build the most magnificent snowman this settlement has ever seen!"

The children cheer, their excitement infectious. I glance over at Thrag, who's watching the scene with an uncharacteristic smile on his face. It's a small victory, perhaps, but it's a testament to the power of compassion and understanding.

As we work together, shaping the snow into a towering figure, I find myself stealing glances at Thrag. He soon becomes fully engaged in the task, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he molds the base of the snowman. The children look up to him, their initial fear replaced by a sense of awe and respect.

"Hey, Thrag," I say, tossing him a carrot for the snowman's nose. "Make sure he has a nice, big nose!"

Thrag catches the carrot with ease, his rough laughter mingling with the children's. It's a sound I'm growing to love, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there's a little room for joy and laughter.