Page 16 of Her Orc Protector

The memory flashed sharp and immediate—the tracker's hand closing around my wrist, the sudden spike of fear, the certainty that Gavriel would somehow see through his eyes.

"Yes," I said quietly.

Uldrek positioned himself in front of me. "I'm going to take your wrist," he said. "Not hard. But I want you to feel what it's like to break that hold."

I tensed instinctively.

"We can try something else," he offered, noting my reaction.

"No." I lifted my chin slightly. "Show me."

He held my gaze for a moment, then nodded once. "Hold your arm out."

I did, palm up, trying to ignore the slight tremor in my fingers.

Uldrek reached forward slowly, telegraphing each movement. His hand closed around my wrist—warm, calloused, much larger than mine. His grip was firm but not painful, nothing like the bruising clutch I'd felt in the market, even though he could’ve crushed my arm without effort.

Still, I flinched.

He didn't let go, but his hold gentled immediately. "You're alright," he said, his voice low and even. "Breathe through it."

I forced myself to inhale deeply, then exhale. Once, twice. His hand remained steady around my wrist, neither tightening nor pulling away.

"Good," he said. "Now, the instinct is to pull back. Don't. That's what they expect. Instead—" he adjusted his stance slightly, "—you turn into it. Step toward me, twist your arm down and to the right. Like breaking a stick."

He guided me through the motion slowly. It felt unnatural at first, counterintuitive. But as we repeated it, I began to understand the leverage, the way my body could create space even against a stronger opponent.

"Again," Uldrek said after each attempt. "Smoother this time."

By the fifth try, I could feel the difference. The movement was becoming more fluid, more confident. On the seventh, I twisted a fraction faster than he anticipated, and his grip broke completely.

A small, fierce burst of triumph bloomed in my chest.

"Again," I said before he could.

Uldrek's mouth curved in what might have been approval. "Alright."

This time, he grabbed my wrist more firmly—still controlled, but with intent. I stepped into it immediately, twisting down and away as he'd shown me. His grip broke cleanly.

"Once more," he said. "This time, after you break, move back. Create distance."

We tried it again. Break the hold, step back, ready stance. My body was warming to the rhythm now, the unfamiliar movements becoming less awkward with each repetition.

"What if there's no space to step back?" I asked, thinking practically.

"Then you make space," Uldrek replied. He demonstrated a variation—break the hold, then use the momentum to pushthe attacker off balance. "But that's for next time. You've done enough for today."

I wanted to argue, to push for more. But my muscles were already aching with the unaccustomed strain, and Ellie was beginning to fuss on her blanket, tired of lying in the sun.

We stretched in silence, cooling down as Uldrek had insisted we must. The quiet between us felt different now—less wary, more comfortable. My breathing had slowed to normal, but something else lingered in my blood. A feeling I'd almost forgotten: capability.

As I bent to touch my toes, I noticed the tattoo on Uldrek's forearm—dark lines forming an intricate pattern resembling claw marks wrapped in vines. One of several that marked his skin, though this one seemed more deliberate than the others.

"What's that one for?" I asked before I could think better of it.

Uldrek glanced down at his arm, his expression unreadable.

"West of the Verdant Pass," he said after a moment. "Shadowbeast ambush. I took the last one down with a broken spear and one good leg."