9. Claire

9

CLAIRE

T he dawn's pale light seeps through the canopy of snow-laden trees. Thrag and I set off for my settlement. Our breaths crystallize immediately in the frigid air. I pull my scarf tighter around my face, the cold seeping through my layers of clothing.

"My settlement can't be that far, right?" I ask, my voice hopeful as I glance over at Thrag. He strides beside me, his large form cutting a path through the snow.

He grunts in response, his amber eyes scanning the horizon. "Depends on how far you wandered," he says.

We press onward, the snow crunching beneath our boots. The sky above us is a canvas of swirling grays. The first flakes of a brewing storm begin to fall. I can't help but feel a twinge of despair as we find only the tracks of animals and not humans.

Thrag seems unperturbed. His gaze is focused and unyielding. "Don't worry," he assures me, his voice cutting through the silence. "As long as we keep moving and the snow doesn't get too thick, we'll find your people."

I nod and force a smile. The burden of our journey bears down on me. But I refuse to let it show. Instead, I try to lighten the mood with conversation.

"You know," I say, my smile growing, "for someone who doesn't talk much, you're surprisingly good company."

Thrag glances at me, his expression unreadable. "I'm not here for company," he retorts gruffly. "I'm here to protect you."

His words spark a warmness in me, despite the bitter cold outside. There's something comforting about his presence, his unwavering determination to keep me safe. It's a feeling I'm not entirely used to, but one I find myself growing fond of.

We stop to rest, and I rummage through Thrag's supplies. Inside his pouch, I find a few strips of dried meat and a small selection of herbs—thyme, perhaps, and some wild mint.

"Do you ever season your food?" I ask, wrinkling my nose as I inspect the bland fare.

Thrag raises an eyebrow, his large hand reaching for a piece of the dried meat. "Food is food," he says, his voice carrying a note of confusion.

I chuckle, shaking my head as I pluck a few sprigs of thyme. "Here, let me show you something," I say, crushing the herbs between my fingers, releasing their fragrant aroma. "Trust me, you'll thank me later."

With a bit of water from our flasks, I mix the herbs into the meat. Thrag watches me with a curious expression.

"Try it now," I urge, handing him a piece of the seasoned meat.

He takes a tentative bite, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. "It's... better," he admits, a hint of astonishment in his voice.

I laugh, the sound echoing through the forest. "I told you so," I tease, unable to hide my glee at his reaction. It's a small victory, but an important one—a shared moment that seems to bridge the gap between our worlds.

We soon continue our trek, but night is approaching quickly. Thrag suggests we stop for the night and make camp. The wind howls as Thrag and I soon huddle under the sparse shelter of a cluster of trees. The fire crackles softly, a small beacon of warmth in the encroaching chill of the night. My body shivers despite the heavy layers of clothing and the heat radiating from the flames.

"Are you cold?" Thrag asks.

"A little," I admit, hugging my knees tighter to my chest. "Could we… cuddle?"

The question hangs in the air, as fragile as the ice crystals forming on the edges of my scarf. Thrag's brow furrows, his expression a mix of confusion and disbelief. "What is this... cuddle?" he asks.

I chuckle. "It's when two people hold each other for warmth," I explain, my gaze dropping to the patchwork of scars on his hands. "It's a human thing, I guess."

He's silent for a moment, his massive form tense. "You want to do this... with me?" he asks, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"I trust you," I say, my words carrying the heaviness of all we've been through. "And I don't want to freeze to death before we even reach my people."

Thrag hesitates, his eyes searching mine, and after a moment, he nods. "Fine," he grunts, lying down on the frozen ground. "But only to keep you from freezing."

I crawl over to him, my heart pounding in my chest. The idea of pressing myself against an orc would have seemed ludicrous days ago, yet here I am, lowering myself onto the makeshift bed of furs beside him.

His body is rigid as I curl against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat comforting against my ear. "Relax," I whisper. "It's just for warmth."

Slowly, his muscles uncoil, and he wraps one arm around me, pulling me closer. "This is... strange," he admits, his voice a low murmur that vibrates through me.

I laugh softly, the tension easing from my body as I settle into the curve of his arm. My eyelids soon grow heavy.

I drift off to sleep, lulled by the rhythmic sound of Thrag's breathing. In my dreams, I see my father, his beard white as snow, donning a red coat and a wide, jolly smile. He's Santa, the embodiment of hope and joy during the darkest of winters.

I wake before dawn, the first rays of sunlight filtering through the bare branches of the trees. Thrag is still asleep, his features softened in the gentle light. For a moment, I allow myself to simply watch him, this orc who has become my unlikely protector.

Could it be that Thrag is a gift, a precious treasure sent to me by the universe? The thought is both absurd and oddly comforting. I reach out tentatively. His heart beats steadily beneath my touch.

I can’t help but feel that Thrag's presence in my life is more than just a twist of fate. It's as if the spirit of Christmas itself has wrapped its arms around me, offering a glimmer of hope in a world cloaked in darkness.