21. Thrag

21

THRAG

T he children's laughter rings in my ears, a sound I never thought I'd welcome. Yet here I am, a mountain of green flesh and muscle, shaping something as trivial as a snowman. "More snow!" they shout, their small hands clapping with glee. I gingerly scoop up mounds of the cold, white powder, packing it onto the growing figure before me. It's now nearly as tall as me, a towering spectacle in the midst of the settlement.

A small girl tugs at my sleeve, her wide eyes looking up at me. "Can you lift me?" she asks, her voice a shy whisper. I glance at Claire, who nods encouragingly, her smile like a beacon in the chill of the day. How can I say no to such a simple request? I bend down slowly, my large hands gentle as I lift the child onto my shoulders. She squeals with delight, reaching out to touch the top of the snowman's head.

The others see this and, like a flock of sparrows, they flutter around me, all clamoring for a turn. "Me next!" one boy cries out, his cheeks rosy from the cold. Claire just laughs, her eyes sparkling as she watches the scene unfold. "You're a perfect ladder, Thrag," she teases.

I can't help but chuckle, the sound rumbling from deep within my chest. "Just don't make it a habit to climb on orcs," I say, putting the girl down and reaching for the next child. One by one, I lift their tiny bodies, their laughter mingling with the crisp winter air. It's a strange feeling, this sense of joy and camaraderie. I'm not used to being surrounded by such... happiness.

As I set the last child down, Claire steps closer, her gaze meeting mine. "You're good at this," she says, her voice soft.

This... this is not something I ever expected to be doing. But here I am, an orc among humans, feeling something akin to delight. As I look into Claire's eyes, they are alight with the same joy that's unexpectedly taken root in me.

"Do you want a turn too?" I ask, my voice deep.

Claire stares at me, her eyes wide and sparkling like the snow beneath our feet. She nods, a shy smile playing on her lips. Without a second thought, I lift her effortlessly, ignoring my healing wounds. My hands span her waist as I hoist her up. Her laughter joins the echoes of the children's as she reaches out to touch the snowman's head.

"I've always wanted to do that," she jokes, her hands brushing the snowman’s head before trailing back to touch mine. Her fingers are cold, but the warmth they leave behind is undeniable.

"And now you have," I reply, my voice softer than before.

Our faces are close, our breaths mingling in the chilly air, creating a mist that hangs between us. My heart pounds in my chest, a rhythm I've never felt before. Her eyes, a warm shade of brown, hold mine, and for a moment, the world falls away. I'm acutely aware of the heat of her body against mine, the gentle pressure of her hands on my shoulders, and the intoxicating scent of her that fills my senses.

Claire's gaze drops to my lips, and the smirk that had been lingering on my face fades into something more earnest, more vulnerable. "Thrag," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the soft rustle of the wind through the trees.

I swallow hard, my grip on her waist tightening ever so slightly. "Claire," I say, my voice a low growl that seems to resonate with the very core of my being.

Unknowingly, the children have left us, called away by their parents, leaving us alone in the quiet expanse of the settlement. The world, once filled with laughter and shouts, now seems muted, as if nature itself is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, we lean in. The cold air is a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from her lips as they brush against mine. The kiss is soft, tentative, a question hanging in the balance. This is... different than anything I've ever experienced. It's gentle, yet fierce in its own right, igniting a fire within me that I never knew existed.

Claire's hands move to the sides of my face, her touch gentle. I deepen the kiss, my own hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer. The taste of her is sweet. It's a flavor I find I want to savor, to commit to memory.

We pull away, our foreheads resting against each other as we both struggle to catch our breath. "Thrag," Claire says again, her voice shaky but filled with a warmth that penetrates the thick layers of my armor—both literal and metaphorical.

"I know," I respond, my voice gruff. I don't know what comes next, but in this moment, with Claire in my arms, I feel a sense of peace that's as unexpected as it is welcome.

We stand there for a while, just holding each other, our bodies providing warmth against the biting cold. The kiss has changed something between us, a shift that's both subtle and monumental. I know that no matter what happens, I'll do whatever it takes to protect this woman, this settlement. I've spent so long wandering, searching for a purpose, and now, I think I've finally found it.

Claire pulls back, her eyes searching mine. "We should probably get back," she says, her tone suggesting she'd rather stay here with me.

I nod. "Lead the way," I tell her, offering a small smile. As we walk back toward the heart of the settlement, I can't help but feel a sense of anticipation. Whatever comes next, I know that I'll face it head-on, with Claire by my side.

And for the first time in a long time, that thought doesn't terrify me. It fills me with a strange sense of hope—a hope that, against all odds, has begun to bloom within the confines of my scarred and battle-hardened heart.