Her Orc Warrior: A Monster Fantasy Romance (Black Bear Clan Book 3)
Her Orc Warrior: Chapter 7

After a long day of slow travel, we stop at another sheltered clearing to make camp. This time, Ozork, who seems to be the leader of this supply train, has decided to pick a beautiful spot by the river. The country has changed slowly with the passing miles, from the plains north of Ultrup to the moors extending toward the orc kingdom.

I’d been worried about our pace on the road—the horses pulling the heavy wagons weren’t bred for speed but for hard labor, and anyone who decided to follow us would surely pick a steed much faster than them. They might even change horses in the larger villages to be able to ride longer.

Vark listened to my worries without dismissing them as unimportant. Over our lunch break, he explained the issue to the other orcs, and they’d agreed that traveling on the main road was still the best course of action, because it was best maintained. Diverting our route to a smaller road would only slow us down, and we’d need more time to reach the safety of orc lands.

“No one can sneak up on us, pet,” Vark had said. “And if they try…”

He’d left the sentence hanging, his expression grim. And I knew right then that he’d protect me and my daughter. I was sure of it. It didn’t sit well with me, because I knew it was the mate bond driving him to behave like this, but I would take the safety in the orc camp over uncertainty of being alone on the road.

If that made me a bad human, I had to live with it. It was the only way I could protect my daughter for now.

Wren has been awake for a while, sitting between Vark and me. We haven’t spoken any more of mates or learning how to fight, but Vark tried to coax Wren into conversation, offering up names of the trees by the road or pointing out the birds that the rattle of our wagons scared into flight.

She didn’t say much but followed his narration closely, soaking up the knowledge. She also ate more, though I kept her from eating her third apple in a row, worried she might make herself sick.

When we jump from the wagon, I ask Ozork to put me to work. The older orc grants me a rare smile and sets me to gathering kindling for the fire, then heaps a list of small tasks on me that keep me busy. All the while, I keep an eye on Wren, who seems to have attached herself to Vark. He allows her to help him with the horses, and he lifts her in his arms, showing her how to brush Comet’s dark coat.

Then I turn away from them because my heart is doing strange flips, and I can’t be thinking of anything other than my plan right now. It’s a good one, too. If I succeed, it might mean I won’t have to rely on anyone ever again—not for Wren’s safety, nor mine. I’ve decided to trust the orcs for now, but that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking of the future. Anything might happen, and I want to be ready.

We eat gathered by the fire, a real cooked meal this time. It turns out Korr makes a good stew, and the orcs bought some meat at the Ultrup market for this purpose.

“We’ll hunt on the orc lands,” he tells me shyly as he ladles more of the stew into my bowl. “But we don’t want to ruffle anyone’s feathers while we’re in the human realm.”

I brighten at the idea that pops in my head. “Hey, could you teach me to hunt?”

It would mean traveling with them farther than I’d planned, but maybe—if Vark won’t object—staying with them a while longer wouldn’t be so bad. Not if I’d come away with valuable skills that would allow me to replace better work once we arrived in Sigda or any other human town for that matter.

Korr flicks his gaze from me to Vark and back. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, looking miserable.

“I’d work for you in exchange for you teaching me,” I say. “I can clean the pots or dig the latrine or whatever you need.” The new, improved plan blooms in my mind. I throw caution to the wind and add, “And if you could teach me how to fight, I’d be incredibly grateful. I only know the basics, and Vark here has made it clear how much I don’t know—but he won’t teach me anything himself.”

A ringing silence descends after I finally force myself to close my mouth. A log pops in the fire. I glance around from one orc to the next, noting the surprise—and humor—in their faces.

“What?” I ask.

Wren silently hands Korr her bowl, and he refills it for her, too. She whispers a quiet, “Thank you,” and goes to sit next to Vark on the other side of the fire from me.

I try not to let it crush me—that she would pick his company over mine. But I tell myself that we’ve been together every day for so long, that she likely just wants a new friend. It doesn’t mean anything. I won’t lose her to him.

I turn back to Korr and say, “Well? What do you think?”

Korr glances at Vark again. I follow his gaze and replace Vark staring at me. Then he shrugs and drops his spoon into his bowl.

“That’s a good plan,” he says, his voice a deep monotone.

Ritta straightens her back. “Wait. Vark, are you—?”

Vark stands. “I’m taking a bath.”

He strides away from the fire, bowl still in hand, and melts into the shadows.

Korr clears his throat. “We can start training tomorrow if you’d like. Before we leave. You might want to wake up earlier than today, give us some time to warm up.”

I stare after Vark. “Is he all right?”

Ozork lets out an exasperated sigh. “He’s being stupid.”

“About what?” I ask.

But he shakes his head and returns his attention to his stew.

I don’t know what they’re on about, but for the first time in months, I feel content. I have a plan to make myself stronger and ensure my future, and Wren’s, too. My belly is full, and we have a place to sleep that won’t be invaded by angry, nasty men.

And if it is—if they replace us despite the fact that we’ve once more hidden our camp and our fire behind a copse of trees—I know there are warriors nearby who will help me protect my daughter and myself.

I take Wren to the river to wash our faces, and we both squeak when we splash ourselves with the icy water. I don’t know if Vark was serious about that bath earlier, but there is no way I’m stepping into this river on a winter evening.

Though we might have to wash ourselves some other way if what Vark said about orc sense of smell is true. He must be suffering greatly with us seated right next to him on the wagon all day.

That will become a task for tomorrow, though. Tonight, I sing a tired Wren to sleep by the fire, then lug the heavy cast-iron stew pot to the river and wash it out with sand until my hands threaten to fall off from the cold water. But I meant what I told Korr. I’ll work in exchange for the food and training. I might not be too proud to beg when our situation is dire enough to demand it, but I’d rather work than accept charity.

And I’ll never let Vark know that he’d hurt me with his refusal to help.