32. Claire

32

CLAIRE

T he echo of Thrag's footsteps is swallowed by the thick blanket of snow outside the cave. I clutch my locket tightly, the cool metal a small comfort against the icy chill of fear that creeps up my spine. My pulse throbs in my ears, a persistent drumbeat echoing the unease that has settled over the cave.

The crackle of the central fire is a mere whisper against the heavy silence that has fallen over the villagers. They huddle together, their faces etched with worry, their whispers a low murmur that fills the cave with an undercurrent of dread. Their eyes dart nervously toward the entrance where Thrag disappeared into the night. I can feel their hope waning, their faith in Thrag—and in me—teetering on the brink of collapse.

I pace the length of the cave, my gaze fixed on the entrance, willing Thrag to reappear unscathed. My mind whirls with grim scenarios, each more harrowing than the last. The Icefang orcs are merciless, their cruelty legendary amongst our people. What if Thrag's strength isn't enough this time? What if I never see his golden eyes again, never hear the gruff cadence of his voice?

The weight of the villagers’ collective gaze on me is a physical presence, but I push it aside, focusing instead on the faint rustle of snow and the distant snap of twigs that will herald Thrag's approach. And then, I hear just that.

He soon emerges from the darkness, his massive frame filling the cave's entrance. My heart surges with relief at the sight of him, though the tension in his broad shoulders suggests the situation is far from resolved.

His golden eyes dim with a grave warning. "The Icefang clan," he announces, his voice a low rumble that resonates through the cavernous space. "They've found us."

The words slice through the crowd, unleashing a torrent of gasps and murmured disbelief. My heart plummets. The fragile sense of security we've built here shatters.

"How?" a voice demands. "This place is hidden!"

Accusatory fingers point in Thrag's direction, the air thickening with suspicion and fear. "It’s him!" a man shouts, his face contorted with rage. "He's one of them! Why else would they find us?"

My chest constricts, a surge of protective fury rising within me. "That's not true!" I snap, stepping forward to shield Thrag from the onslaught of their doubt.

A rock whizzes past me, landing with a thud near Thrag's feet. My breath hitches. My hand instinctively reaches for the locket that hangs against my chest—a silent prayer for strength.

"Enough!" Thrag's voice booms, his massive hands clenching into fists at his sides. But I can see the pain in his eyes, the sting of betrayal that he tries so hard to mask.

I place a gentle hand against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath my fingertips. "Stop," I whisper, my gaze locked with his. "Don't fight the villagers."

His expression softens, the tension in his body ebbing away slightly as he acknowledges my silent plea. "I won't," he promises.

I turn to face the crowd, my voice steady despite the turmoil that churns within me. "Thrag has risked his life for us. He's not our enemy," I tell them.

Murmurs ripple through the villagers. Their certainty wavers as they grapple with my words. I can see the hesitation in their eyes, the flicker of doubt that threatens to ignite into fear once more.

Vincent's voice suddenly slices through the crowd's murmurs, his tone resolute. "We can't fight the Icefang clan on our own. We need Thrag," he insists.

His words echo off the stone walls, and the villagers exchange wary glances. Reluctant nods ripple through the crowd, a testament to their desperation. I turn to Thrag, my heart a frantic drumbeat against my ribs. "What do we do?" I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He hesitates, the gears of his mind visibly turning as he contemplates our grim options. "I'll challenge their leader," he finally declares, his golden eyes locked on mine. "If I win, they'll leave."

A cold shiver traces its way down my spine. "No, Thrag, you can't," I plead, my hands reaching for him instinctively. "It's too dangerous."

He cups my face gently, his touch a stark contrast to the rough callouses that mark his palms. "I have to," he insists, his voice a low rumble that resonates deep within me. "For all of you. For you."

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, my vision blurring as I cling to him. "Promise me you'll come back," I choke out, my fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic.

He leans down, the warmth of his breath a fleeting comfort against my skin. "I promise," he vows, pressing his forehead to mine in a silent pledge.

With a gentle hand, he guides me away from the prying eyes of the villagers, carving out a sliver of solitude for us amidst the chaos. Our lips meet in a desperate, lingering kiss, the crackling fire the only sound in the room. It's a kiss born of fear and desperation, a silent exchange of all the words we dare not speak aloud.

As we pull away, I search his gaze, seeking reassurance in the depths of his golden eyes. "Thrag, I?—"

He presses a finger to my lips, silencing my protest before it can fully form. "I know," he murmurs, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a sad smile. "I feel the same."

We stand there for a moment, lost in the gravity of our situation. My mind races, a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty that threatens to overwhelm me. But when I look at Thrag, I see a steadfast resolve that bolsters my courage. He's a beacon of strength in this dark, uncertain world.

The villagers soon turn to us, and I can feel their hope resting precariously on Thrag's massive shoulders, a burden he carries without complaint.