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D aisy screamed.

The sound rang and echoed, far too loud in the sudden suffocating darkness. But louder still was Daisy’s rioting heartbeat, pummelling in her ears, crushing all rational thought beneath the charging horrified terror.

She was trapped. In a pitch-black cave. Alone . With … with that .

She had to run. Escape . Now .

Her sketchbook and pencil clattered to the floor, and she whirled around in the darkness, staggering, unseeing. Frantically flailing her hands before her, groping for walls, for stone, for — for anything. Maybe there was another way out, maybe she could find a place to hide, maybe she could dig out her candle or find a sharp deadly rock and throw it at the — the thing —

But the dark was so complete, so thick and heavy and utterly disorienting, with not even a single pinprick of light, no matter where she looked. And the ground beneath her feet was rocky and uneven, a treacherous foreign wasteland, conspiring with the thing to keep her here, and —

She tripped. Tripped over a hard, unmoving solidness — some kind of boulder, curse it. And even as she flailed, caught herself, her other foot tripped, too. And suddenly she was flying, falling through the blackness toward the ground, no, no, no —

The impact juddered through her hands, her elbows, snapping her head forward, striking her cheek against something sharp and grating. And with the shock was the sudden surging pain, blooming vicious and eyewatering through her face, her skull. So stunning she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, oh gods what was this, what had she done, what was she supposed to do, how badly was she hurt, was she going to die —

“ Róleg ,” came a voice, low and rasping and far too close. “ Stopp ! Vertu kyrr .”

Daisy’s heartbeat pummelled louder, screaming in her ears, because it was — the thing . It was him , he was right here —

She yelped as she scrabbled and staggered upwards, backwards, away. She had to run, had to escape him or fight him or kill him, but everything hurt, and she still couldn’t fucking see. And then her foot tripped again , and she pitched backwards, flailing and shrieking, trapped, lost, doomed…

When something — caught her. Something warm. Strong . Solid . Bracing close and firm against her back, drawing her upright, holding her steady. Waiting for her to find her footing again.

It was — him. The thing. Touching her. Touching her.

Daisy gasped and lurched sideways, shoving him away, away, away — but then her foot caught again. Tripping over yet another rock, curse it, curse it. She couldn’t even move in here, she was going to die in here —

And then — that touch again. An arm . Circling swiftly around Daisy’s back, yanking her forward against solid unyielding heat, as something warm and powerful snapped tight around — her neck .

His hand . Around her neck .

Daisy froze, her scream stoppered in her throat — no — as her shaky hands flailed upwards, clutching and scratching at that hand around her neck. And gods it was big, its fingers impossibly long, and tipped at the ends with — sharpness . With multiple painful prodding points, sinking into her soft skin, oh gods, oh please, what was this, what was happening, he was going to force her and kill her and —

“ Gott ,” the voice said again, low and decisive, so close his breath stirred against her hair. “ Vertu kyrr. ”

Daisy flinched and shuddered all over, as more wild disjointed panic screeched through her head. She was lost, she was dead, she was doomed. Because this thing had her trapped, clutched close against his chest, with his hand — his claws — squeezing her throat. And now, now he was going to — to —

Pat her?

Wait, yes, what the hell? He was — patting her. His hand tapping brief and approving against her back, as if Daisy was an obedient puppy who’d properly performed a new trick. While his other hand stayed clamped close and deadly around her neck, its claws still gently digging into her skin. A command. A threat.

Daisy shuddered again, gulping desperately for air, and oh, hell, that was another pat, another certain sign of approval. And the grip around her neck even softened a little, though the sharpness was still very much there, still silently shouting its threat into her skin.

“ Gott ,” the low voice said, sounding distinctly satisfied this time. “ Bíddu .”

What? Daisy couldn’t stop shuddering, shivering beneath his implacable grip, her heartbeat still clanging, her breaths gasping in the silence. She was caught, trapped, in a dark treacherous cave, with — with —

“W-what the hell,” she finally gasped, her voice strained and wavering. “ Who are you? What is this? What do you want from me?!”

There was another little pat to her back, a caress of that sharpness against her throat. “ Bíddu hér ,” he replied, his voice firm. “ Vertu orugg .”

It felt both commanding and approving, almost as if Daisy had… pleased him, somehow. But how? What was she doing now that she hadn’t done before, and…

Oh. She was standing still. Not moving. Not … falling.

And — wait. Did that mean — was he — was this — was he —

Was he just trying to help her?

Daisy shook her head, and desperately gulped for air, for sensible thought. “ I can’t — understand you,” she choked. “ Can’t you — speak common-tongue?”

There was an instant’s silence, and then a heavy exhale, a drum of sharp fingers against her back. “ Nei ,” he replied. “ Aeeins Aelakesh .”

Daisy squeezed her eyes shut, her heart thudding in her ears, because nei sounded a hell of a lot like no , didn’t it? And nearly everyone in the realm spoke at least some common-tongue, and what did that mean, what was this — creature , where had he come from, he was —

Her clattering thoughts flashed back to that moment when she’d first seen him, in the light of her candle. How tall he’d been. How thin and gaunt and pale. And how he’d been hairless, bare-chested, with all those stark black patterns printed across his skin… and how he’d had those black marks on his hands that had looked like eyes . And both his hands were still touching her, those eyes now pressing flat against her, as if seeing her…

But wait. Wait . Surely he could see in the dark, too — because he’d somehow gotten all the way from the cave’s entrance over to here , despite all the chaotic rubble of this destroyed room. And he’d done it without so much as an audible footstep, let alone a crunch or a crack or a fall, when Daisy couldn’t even move two steps in here without falling over.

A suspicion had begun whispering, too futile, too foolish, too late. And without thinking, Daisy groped again for the hand still circled around her neck, and — felt it. Felt the warm callused skin, the long slim fingers, and…

The claws . The long, curved claws, extending sharp and dangerous from his fingertips. And no human had claws like that, Daisy had seen illustrations of claws like that, and they belonged to — to —

He was… an orc .