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D aisy was trapped in a cave with an orc. An orc .

Her body had begun wildly trembling, shuddering hard and uncontrollable against the orc’s solid, relentless grip. Gods , how stupid had she been? Of course he was an orc. They were in orc country, Orc Mountain was barely a day’s journey away from Dusbury . And here she’d gone and wandered off all alone, late in the day, into an isolated cave. A cave that clearly hadn’t occurred naturally, and she’d stayed in it anyway, and hadn’t even once thought about who might have made it. Who might still live there.

Daisy’s breaths heaved faster, her body shivering harder, because even if she’d never personally met an orc before, she knew all the tales, didn’t she? Orcs were vicious, heartless, warmongering monsters, with huge, powerful bodies, and deadly claws and teeth. They could see in the dark, they could sniff out blood and fear and death, and there were even rumours that some orcs could wield dark, terrible magic to gain their evil ends.

And worst of all, the orcs wanted human women. They would do anything to entrap and kidnap hapless unsuspecting women, to rut and swive upon them again and again, until the women bore their massive, monstrous sons. Because it was always sons with orcs, never daughters, and Daisy could distinctly recall Lew bitterly complaining about that, pointing out that orcs were nothing more than overly fecund, ill-adapted obligate parasites, who should have gone extinct millennia ago.

But nothing had gotten rid of the orcs, not even a bloody, centuries-long war against them — and finally, a few years before, the realm’s human lords had gone and signed a comprehensive peace-treaty with the orcs. A treaty that had bound the orcs to stop the raids and kidnapping, and to honour human laws, and…

And — wait. Those laws most certainly included things like attacking and murdering women in dark caves… right? Not that this orc would need to care, because no one would ever find Daisy in here — but it was still something. Something to cling to, in this wheeling quaking nightmare.

“Let go of me,” Daisy managed, into the dark silence. “ Let go , orc!”

She wrenched backwards again, away from the orc’s firm grip — and to her surprise, he easily released her. His warm sharp hands dropping from her neck and her waist, leaving her feeling strangely… cold, somehow. Untouched . With a strange tingling where his hands had been…

And now, without the all-consuming distraction of his touch, there was — pain. Pain radiating through Daisy’s cheek, where she’d smashed it against what must have been a rock — and even worse pain in her hands, which both felt scraped and bloody and raw. And a tentative touch to her palm found it sticky and stinging, and she hissed through her teeth, whipping her head back and forth. No , no , how could this horrible day get any worse —

“ Bíddu ,” the voice said, the orc said, and when Daisy flinched backwards, she again felt — his hand. His callused palm, his long sharp fingers, circling tightly around her wrist, drawing her own hand out toward him. And then he carefully turned her injured palm upwards, almost as if — as if he could see it. But of course he could see it, he was truly a gods-damned orc , and she was trapped in this dark cave with him, so stupid, stupid, stupid —

And then — something warm. Soft . Wet . Touching against Daisy’s torn, stinging skin. Something — alive .

The orc’s tongue .

Daisy gasped and fought to yank her hand away, but the orc’s grip held it tight and firm, in strange, peculiar contrast to his soft, slick tongue. Easing so gently against her skin, lapping at the bloody wounds, foreign and filthy and — utterly riveting , and —

Daisy quivered, her hand spasming in his grip — but she wasn’t pulling away now, either. And she should be pulling away, she should be yelling at him, slapping him, hurling something toward him. She should be doing whatever it took to escape this, whatever the hell it was —

But instead, she just kept standing there, hushed, caught. Trapped in the eerie, silent certainty of those strong sharp fingers around her wrist, the bizarre gentleness of that slick licking tongue…

And in how the pain had somehow… lessened. Faded . Slipping away, weaker and weaker, beneath every soft wet stroke, every shudder of her breath.

It didn’t make sense, it didn’t, but Daisy still hadn’t pulled away, and her distant, disjointed thoughts pointed out that this orc still wasn’t actually hurting her — not yet, at least. And again, maybe… maybe he was even trying to help her. Though it was probably his fault that they were even trapped here in the first place, even if Daisy couldn’t quite follow how, because he couldn’t possibly have caused this… right?

“ Betra? ” the orc said, sounding distinctly like a question, as his hand circling her wrist shifted, into something almost like a caress. “ Gott ? ”

Daisy swallowed, and gave a surreptitious flex of her hand in his grip — and again, impossibly, it did feel… better. Only stinging a little, now, and the sticky blood was entirely gone, because he’d licked it all away. And she really should be disgusted by that, terrified, she should be running and screaming and finding sharp rocks to throw at him, and instead, she just kept…

Standing here. Waiting , her heart thudding in her chest, as she felt the orc’s hand now closing around her other wrist, and drawing it up. So he could start licking that palm, too, his tongue stroking just as soft, just as slick and smooth. Warmth tingling and flickering, easing the pain away, settling Daisy’s shoulders, exhaling her breath…

Because maybe — maybe it really was helping. And it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that orc saliva could have analgesic effects, was it? She’d read a paper last year theorizing about various properties of mammalian saliva, and it had seemed at least somewhat plausible… and was that why she was still allowing this? Letting a dangerous orc touch her, and lick her?

She finally yanked her hand free, out of the orc’s solid grip, away from his tongue’s wet warmth. And again, he didn’t fight it, didn’t protest — at least, until she felt his warm callused fingers settling against her face .

Daisy yelped and jerked backwards, stumbling over more loose rocks behind her — and that was a loud, exasperated-sounding groan from the orc as his arm again caught her, snapping swift and firm around her back. Pressing her tightly into him this time, trapping her trembling body close against tall steady leanness, smooth warm skin over hard muscle and bone, oh gods —

Daisy gasped and shivered all over, but the orc didn’t seem to notice. Instead , his fingers settled back to her face, firmly gripping her jaw, tilting it up and sideways. So he could…

Oh. Lick her cheek . His slick warm tongue trailing against that stinging wound, caressing so soft and gentle, stroking again and again. Feeling unreasonably close, intimate, his breath hot against her skin, his body so hard and steady against hers, his skin scenting of something rich and sweet. And as he licked her, his hand’s grip slowly softened on her face — and then it even began patting her cheek. Again as if praising her, conveying that he approved of this, he was pleased by this.

Daisy shivered again, but she didn’t feel nearly as revolted as she should have, even when the orc’s arm drew her a little closer. Folding her even tighter into his lean powerful warmth, his firm embrace, his strangely appealing scent. And Daisy really, really should still be pushing against it, trying to escape, something…

“We need to get out of here,” she finally said into the darkness. “ Is there another way out?”

There was a beat of silence, a heavy huff of the orc’s breath against her skin. “ Hvae sageiru ?” came his reply. “ ég skil ekki. ”

Daisy hauled in a deep breath, and twisted to give a shaky wave toward the exit — or at least, what she hoped was the exit. “ We need to get out of here,” she said again, louder this time, and she wrenched out of his arms, and attempted a careful step toward where she’d come in. “ Out . Out ! Escape !”

She could almost feel the orc’s attention, maybe his confusion, as his strong arm drew her back into his warm embrace, fitting her easily against him. “ Bíddu ,” he replied. “ ?rugg .”

Daisy groaned, and rapidly shook her head. “ We will die in here, orc,” she snapped. “ We have no water, and no food, and gods only know how long the air will be safe. We need to find a way out!”

The panic was beginning to simmer again, because even if this orc wasn’t going to kill her — he wasn’t going to kill her, was he? — this was still so dangerous. So stupid. And why the hell wasn’t the orc moving, why was he still holding her like this, why didn’t he seem alarmed in the slightest?

“ Bíddu,” he said again, with another one of those pats to her back. “ ?rugg .”

Daisy’s groan was sharp and disbelieving this time, and she again yanked away from him, toward the exit. But he didn’t let go of her, and instead, he moved with her. His arm circling tighter around her waist, his warm body easing close beside her, and now — guiding her. Walking with slow, purposeful steps through the darkness toward the door, weaving them both back and forth around what must have been rocks and rubble. He even helped Daisy climb over what felt like a mess of fallen boulders, communicating through more pats of his hands, and the occasional low murmur of his voice.

When he finally drew them to a halt, near what must have been the cave’s exit, he said something else, firm and decisive. Something that felt like an order, but again, Daisy couldn’t even begin to follow what he meant.

“I don’t understand,” she said helplessly, toward where his face might have been. “ Does this mean we can get out now?”

She mimed a walking gesture with her fingers, earning in return a sharp, disapproving growl from the orc — and then, after an instant’s silence, he grasped her hand, and drew it forward in the darkness. Until her fingers met something cool and solid, standing here vertically before them. Rock . A wall.

For an instant, Daisy’s only thought was that her hand didn’t hurt at all, when it really still should have — but then her stomach plunged, as comprehension flashed through her brain. This was surely the exit. The tunnel. But now it was only a sheer wall of rock, dusty and gritty and rough, blocking them in, trapping them here.

And the more she ran her hand over the wall, the more alarming it felt. It was all boulders, big and sharp-edged, and they seemed thoroughly wedged together. And when she tried tugging at one of the craggy edges, she only succeeded in scraping her hand again — a development which drew another disapproving growl from the orc, who then snatched her hand up, and began licking it again.

This time, Daisy didn’t even flinch, and she slowly exhaled as that soft, slick warmth trailed against her skin. Tending her, caressing her, fading the pain into a strange, shivery prickle. Until even that had eased away, too, and now it was only his slick supple tongue, his hot hitching breath, a brush of something that felt almost like lips…

Too late, Daisy snatched her hand away, and jabbed purposefully toward the blocked tunnel. “ We still need to get out, orc,” she told him, as steadily as she could. “ Out . Out ! ”

The orc’s sigh was heavy, almost a growl, and his claws drummed against her back with distinct irritation. “ Nei ,” he replied, his voice flat. “ Ekki strax .”

Daisy should have wrenched away from his touch — how did he have his arm around her again? — but instead she frowned up toward the sound of his voice, and again waved toward the wall. “ We could die in here, orc,” she hissed. “ Help me dig us out!”

The orc sighed again, and gave another annoyed drum of his claws against her. “ Nei ,” he said again. “ Nei . Bíddu eftir sólinni.”

Whatever it meant, he was clearly refusing, saying no — and with a desperate groan, Daisy wrenched away from him again, and groped wildly for the wall of fallen stone. Pushing at it, pulling at it, there had to be something, they were going to die —

“ Nei! ” snarled the orc, close and sharp in Daisy’s ear, as strong clawed hands circled both her wrists, and yanked them away. “ Nei , blómie mitt! Bíddu !”

Gods curse him, and when Daisy struggled and hissed at him, fighting to yank her wrists away, he only gripped them tighter, jerked her closer, and then —

He roared at her. The sound deep and harsh and menacing, shuddering up her shivering spine. Saying — no . Or else.

Daisy would have yelled back, shoved away — if not for how his warm clever hands had curved around her again, stroking up and down her back with something between reassurance and urgency. As if trying to comfort her, while also trying to communicate something. Something — important.

“ Nei ,” came his voice again, softer this time — and then he kept speaking, low and swift and unintelligible. Again explaining something, perhaps why Daisy couldn’t dig like that, or why they couldn’t go out that way.

But whatever it was, there was no denying the utter certainty in his voice. The determination, the eloquence, the refusal. The conviction, somehow, that there was a reason they couldn’t leave. And the reason wasn’t just that this orc wanted to keep her trapped here, where he could next force her to his bed, or kill her.

When he finished speaking, it felt almost expectant, like he was waiting for her reply. And finally Daisy sighed, her shoulders sagging, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Oh, fine,” she said, heavy and resigned. “ Is there another way out, then? Another exit out the back, or something?”

She drew up one of her hands, and then waved purposefully around the room, before making another walking gesture with her fingers. “ Another way?” she asked, foolishly, because of course he couldn’t understand it. “ Another exit, then?”

But in return, the orc made an approving sound, and patted at her back. Saying — yes. Yes .

Really? Daisy’s heart leapt, and she shot a swift, delighted grin toward him — or toward where he must have been in the darkness — before lurching forward, back into the room. They would find another way out, she could still escape, run away, go home to… to…

But then — the orc again. Here again. His body blocking Daisy’s path, his hand again gripping tight against her wrist. “ Nei ,” he said again. “ Ekki strax. Bíddu .”

What? Was he saying — no? No leaving? But he’d just suggested they could still escape — hadn’t he? So Daisy shook her head, and stepped forward — and again found herself held, caught, against the orc’s tall, solid body. As if he did want to trap her here after all, as if this was all some kind of nefarious orc trick…

“Let me go!” she hissed at him. “ I want to get out!”

But the orc didn’t let go, and huffed another low, irritated groan. And when Daisy kept glaring upwards in the darkness, he drew in a deep breath, and again began speaking. The words tangled and foreign, swift and certain, a stream of urgent fluent conviction in his low, velvety voice.

But again, there was no hope of understanding it, and Daisy could only stand there and listen to it, hear the rise and fall of it. Catching the distinct patterns in it, the deft twists and turns of it, as his fingers stroked and skittered against her back, his rich scent again flitting through her breath…

And for a strange, stilted instant, his voice felt almost like music, like a dance, like… art . Like smooth, thick dark lines, scraping on a fresh page, drawing something unknown, something new…

When he finished speaking, Daisy kept blinking for a breath, caught in the bizarre, vivid image of it — but then she grimaced, and shook her head. And in return the orc growled, harsh and heavy with frustration, as if he wanted her to understand, needed her to understand, and…

With a sudden movement, his hand dropped her wrist, and slipped down Daisy’s front, settling against — her belly . And gods, what was he doing now, was he going to grope her, was he going to attack her or force her after all, what was he —

Oh. His claw. A single soft, gentle point, touching her. And it wasn’t caressing, wasn’t taking advantage, because it was — drawing ?

But yes, yes , it was drawing. Drawing a circle, again and again, tracing it smooth and careful against the loose fabric of Daisy’s shabby dress. And then that claw drew sideways, tracing straight lines out from the circle’s edge, like spokes on a wheel, or — or — petals on a flower. Like …

A daisy.

Daisy froze, even as a brief, convulsive shiver rippled out from her belly. From where the orc had started it all over again, his sharp claw circling smoothly around her navel, and then drawing those lines out again. A daisy. A flower. A wheel. A birth, a light, something new…

Daisy shivered again, her heart skipping a beat in her chest, but the orc just kept drawing, his touch ringing and jangling, like a clear, piercing call, a song in the dark. A light. A flower. A daisy. An eye. A sun…

“ Sól ,” he murmured, a note of shimmering light in the song. “ Sól .”

Sól. Light . Sun .

The certainty struck deep into Daisy’s gut, staggering her on her feet, because yes, of course, he was drawing a sun. The kind of sun every child drew, with the circle in the middle, the rays streaming out from all sides. Sun .

“ Sól ,” he said again, softer, as his claw kept touching, kept drawing. “ Sól . Morgun .”

Sun. Morgun . Morning ? As if he was saying — he needed sun? Needed … morning?

But maybe — maybe that could make sense, couldn’t it? Because surely the sun had set by now, it had already been late when Daisy had come here… but maybe the light would help them find another way out, somehow. Maybe it would shine through the rocks, show them a new way forward…

But — no. No . Daisy couldn’t honestly be considering giving up, abandoning her quest to escape… right? Relenting to this, and spending an entire night trapped in here in the dark with him? With an orc ?

But the orc was still drawing, still marking that sun-daisy-song onto her skin, and Daisy wasn’t even pretending to resist it, to protest or escape. And instead, she was shivering again, reverberating against him, as her jolting thoughts whispered strange, surreal justifications, or maybe even temptations…

She’d run away from Lew . She’d found this ruined, beautiful cave. It had trapped her here with this orc, this creature with a voice like music, with his rich scent, his healing tongue, his sharp deadly fingers that drew suns and daisies against her skin. And now he was speaking with her like this, communicating with her through art, through light in the darkness…

Gods, it was ridiculous, and gods, how Lew would laugh at her. He would accuse her of being flighty and foolish, irrational and unscientific, falling prey to her emotions, mistaking silly anecdotal hunches for actual provable hypotheses.

But maybe it was Lew’s voice, Lew’s judgement, that drew in Daisy’s breath, expanded her belly against the orc’s still-drawing finger. One night. One night, until the sun. Until morning. Until she would escape here, for good.

“Fine,” she told the orc, with only a slight waver in her voice. “ I’ll stay. Until the sól .”