Page 27 of Orc’s Little Human

SELENE

T he camp Korrath chose sits on a rare patch of solid ground, surrounded by the twisted roots of ancient swamp trees that form natural barriers against the wetlands beyond.

Thali has arranged her collection of the day's treasures in careful rows—smooth stones, interesting shells, a piece of driftwood shaped like a miniature equus.

She hums tunelessly as she works, completely absorbed in her makeshift museum.

I watch her from where I sit cross-legged on my bedroll, mending a tear in Korrath's cloak with the bone needle he'd fashioned for me.

The repetitive motion of stitching soothes something restless in my chest, though I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched.

The swamp holds too many shadows, too many places for things to hide.

"Selene, look at this one!" Thali holds up a piece of what might be fossilized wood, its surface smooth and dark as polished stone. "It feels warm, like it remembers being alive."

The wonder in her voice makes me smile despite my unease. Everything is still magic to her, still worthy of excitement and careful examination. I envy that ability to find joy in small discoveries, to trust that the world holds more beauty than horror.

"It's beautiful," I tell her, setting aside the mending to accept the fossil. The wood is warm against my palm, worn smooth by countless years of water and time. "Maybe it's from one of those ancient tiphe trees, the ones that used to grow as tall as mountains."

Thali's eyes go wide. "Really? How do you know about ancient trees?"

Because I had to learn everything that might keep me alive. The thought carries the bitter taste of memory, but I push it down. Thali doesn't need to know about the desperate education that came with captivity, the way I absorbed every scrap of knowledge that might prove useful.

"I read about them once," I say instead, which isn't entirely a lie. "Before?—"

The sound cuts through my words like a blade through silk. A branch breaking, but not with the random crack of settling wood or animal movement. This break has weight behind it, deliberation. Purpose.

My blood turns to ice water in my veins.

No. The denial screams through my mind even as my body responds with trained efficiency, dropping the fossil and reaching for the hunting knife Korrath left within my reach. Not here. Not now. Not with Thali.

"Thali." My voice comes out steady despite the terror clawing at my throat. "Come here. Right now."

Something in my tone cuts through her absorption in her treasures. She looks up, amber-green eyes immediately alert to danger even if she doesn't understand its source.

"What's wrong?"

Before I can answer, they step into our small clearing.

Two men in the rough leather and metal of human scouts, their faces bearing the particular hardness that comes from years of hunting other people.

I know those faces. I've seen them in nightmares, in waking moments when memory crashes over me like a wave.

Jorik and Halvdan. Rusk's dogs.

"Well, well." Jorik's voice is exactly as I remember—rough as gravel, edged with the kind of casual cruelty that finds amusement in others' pain. "Look what crawled out of the camps to play house with the greenskins."

My hand tightens on the knife handle. The blade feels too light, inadequate against the weight of memory and the reality of two armed men who've spent years perfecting violence. But it's what I have, and between me and Thali, it has to be enough.

"Hello, Selene." Halvdan's smile is all teeth, predatory and patient. "Captain Rusk's been looking everywhere for you. Seems you took something that doesn't belong to you when you ran."

My brand burns against my collarbone, the skin heating as though the metal were being pressed there fresh. They know. Of course they know what was done to me, what mark I carry. They were there, holding me down while?—

No. I force the memory back, focusing on the present. On Thali, who's moved closer to me but hasn't yet understood the true danger we're in.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lie, buying time, hoping against hope that Korrath will return before this gets worse.

"'Course you don't." Jorik draws his sword with casual confidence, the steel singing as it clears the scabbard. "But see, that mark you're hiding under all those clothes? That's valuable property. And the Captain, he don't like it when his property goes missing."

Thali's sharp intake of breath tells me she's finally grasped what's happening. When I glance at her, I see confusion and fear warring in her young face, but also something else. Trust. She's looking at me like I know what to do, like I can fix this.

She believes in me. The realization cuts through the paralyzing fear, replacing it with something harder, sharper. She thinks I'm strong enough to protect her.

"Thali," I say quietly, never taking my eyes off the two men. "Remember what Korrath taught you about running? About getting to safety?"

"But I won't leave you?—"

"Yes, you will." I pour every ounce of authority I possess into the words. "When I say run, you run to the water and you hide. Don't come back until Korrath finds you."

Halvdan chuckles, the sound low and ugly. "Cute. Teaching the little beast to scamper. But we're not here for the orcling pet, girl. Just you and that pretty mark you're wearing."

The casual dismissal of Thali—calling her a beast , a pet —ignites something volcanic in my chest. How dare they?

How dare they look at this bright, curious, brave child and see something less than human?

How dare they stand in our camp, our space, and threaten everything that's become precious to me?

"You're not taking anyone anywhere," I say, rising to my feet with the knife held ready. The weight feels more familiar now, like an extension of my will rather than an inadequate tool.

Jorik laughs outright. "Look at this, Hal. The camp rat thinks she's a warrior now. Few months playing pretend with the orcs and she's forgotten what she really is."

What I really am. The words echo through my mind, carrying all the weight of months in captivity, of being reduced to property, to useful flesh, to a canvas for magical experimentation. They want me to remember being powerless, being nothing more than what was done to me.

But I'm not that anymore. I haven't been that since the moment Korrath looked at me and saw something worth protecting, since Thali decided I was worth trusting, worth loving.

"I remember exactly what I am," I tell them, shifting my weight forward onto the balls of my feet. "The question is whether you're smart enough to walk away before you find out."

Halvdan's expression shifts, humor fading into something more calculating. "She's got teeth now, Jorik. Might be more fun than we thought."

The threat in his voice makes my skin crawl, but I don't let it show. Can't let it show, not with Thali watching, not when her safety depends on my ability to be stronger than my fear.

"Run," I whisper to Thali, and she moves without hesitation, darting toward the water with the fluid grace of a child raised by orcs. Smart girl. Brave girl.

Jorik lunges after her, clearly thinking she's the easier target, and something primitive and furious explodes in my chest. No. Not Thali. Never Thali.

I move without conscious thought, the knife leading as I throw myself between him and my— sister . Because that's what she is now, what she's become. Family. The most important thing in the world.

The blade finds the soft spot between Jorik's ribs, sliding in with surprising ease. He looks down in shock, like he can't quite believe what's happened, and I twist the knife the way I learned in darker moments than I care to remember.

His blood is hot against my hands, copper-bright and final. When he falls, it's with the heavy sound of meat hitting earth, graceless and somehow smaller than he seemed when he was standing.

Halvdan roars something I don't process, coming at me with his own blade raised. But I'm already moving, already committed to this path. The knife comes free with a wet sound that should horrify me but doesn't. Can't. Not when Thali's life hangs in the balance.

This time the strike is messier, my angle wrong, but desperation lends strength to the blow. Halvdan staggers back, hand pressed to the spurting wound in his neck, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"You—" he starts to say, but the words dissolve into a gurgle of blood and air. He drops to his knees, then forward onto his face, twitching once before going still.

Silence crashes over the clearing like a physical weight. The only sounds are my ragged breathing and the distant splash of Thali reaching the water. Both men lie motionless in spreading pools of crimson that look black in the filtered swamp light.

I killed them. Both of them.

The knife slips from my fingers, hitting the ground with a small, final sound. My hands are covered in blood—their blood—and I should feel sick, should feel horror at what I've become.

Instead, I feel... steady. Grounded. Like something that's been loose inside me has finally clicked into place.

"Selene!" Korrath's voice cuts through the clearing, raw with panic and fury. He crashes through the underbrush like a force of nature, taking in the scene with eyes that miss nothing—the bodies, the blood, my bloodstained hands.

"Where's Thali?" His voice carries the kind of deadly calm that precedes violence.

"Safe." The word comes out stronger than I expected. "In the water, hiding like you taught her."

Relief flickers across his features before his attention returns to the dead scouts. "They came for you."

It's not a question. He knows, has probably known since the moment he saw their faces, that this was always a possibility. That my past would eventually catch up to us.

"They were Rusk's men." I flex my fingers, watching the blood crack across my knuckles. He knows all about Rusk, about the asshole and what he did to me."They knew about the brand. They came to take me back."

Korrath's jaw clenches, gold eyes flaring with that inner fire that speaks of barely leashed power. "They're dead."

"I killed them." The admission should feel like a confession, but it doesn't. It feels like truth, clean and necessary. "For Thali. To protect her."

Something shifts in Korrath's expression, pride mixing with fierce approval. He steps closer, his hands coming up to frame my face despite the blood coating my skin.

"You are strong," he says, and the words carry the weight of absolute conviction. "Stronger than they ever were. Stronger than they ever could have made you."

Strong. The word settles into my bones like truth finally recognized. Not broken. Not tainted. Not property to be reclaimed or used.

Strong.

The brand on my collarbone warms, but this time it doesn't burn. Instead, it feels like recognition, like a bridge spanning the space between Korrath's magic and my own hidden power. Like a bond that can't be broken by distance or time or the violent remnants of my past.

"I'm not who I used to be," I whisper, though I'm not sure if I'm telling him or myself.

"No," Korrath agrees, his thumbs brushing across my cheekbones with infinite gentleness. "You're who you chose to become. A warrior. A protector. Mine."

His. Not in the way the camps tried to own me, not as property or possession, but as a partner. As equal. As someone worth fighting beside instead of fighting for.

The sound of splashing announces Thali's return, her voice calling our names with the particular pitch that means she's trying to be brave but needs reassurance. I turn toward the water, toward family, toward the future I'm finally strong enough to claim.

I am no longer a captive.

I am a warrior.