Lost to the Orcs (Oyeon Orcs)

Chapter Five Chased

CHAPTER FIVE: CHASED

We don’t stop for the night until well after dark. It’s bitterly cold and the men said I couldn’t sleep next to the fire unless I ‘give them a hand’. They really don’t know any other term. But I’d rather freeze to death. The medic can’t do much as he’s outnumbered and he knows, if he does help out, he’ll be either abandoned or given less pay. As he informed me while walking.

I try to clear an area on the ground of any twigs and leaves before laying my aching body down. Oh, this is going to be the longest few days of my life. Fucking hell.

I fall into a fitful half sleep until I feel someone lay a blanket on top of me. It smells like the earth and pine. It’s warm. Like someone had been using it just moments before.

I wake up nearly at dawn to go take care of business. When I come back there’s a leaf of food in place of the cloak. Looking at the men, I see them all asleep. I squint at the medic, but he too is asleep. Or pretending to be. The food is just stuff that can be foraged from the forest around us. I shrug and eat. The nuts are earthy but sweet, whereas the mushrooms are savory. I eat every bite by the time everyone wakes up and packs to leave.

This continues for three days. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I were being taken care of by one of these men. But the crude way the men still talk to me and the aloof way the medic acts. I have no idea who it could be. Every night, someone gives me that warm cloak and every morning, they take it during my morning bathroom break and in its place is a leaf or bark with some nuts and mushrooms. Occasionally, I’ll find a piece of fruit.

Today is day four and the men have been watching me intently. I guess they’re wondering why I’m not crying and complaining. Maybe it is the medic. But he’s been looking at me strangely too. As if he too can’t understand how I’m not suffering.

When we stop for a small break, I go to the bathroom. Halfway back, I find myself staring at three of the seven men who I’m traveling with. They block the way back to the wagon. “Move.” I grit.

One laughs. “Why don’t you stop the act and just ask for some food? Or maybe you’re thirsty?” It wiggles the skin of liquid at me. My lips are dry. But I’m not debasing myself for it.

“Fuck off.”

He smirks. “I guess, we really don’t have a choice. Gentlemen?” They start closing in. My eyes skitter from one to the other. I will not survive this if they catch me.

I turn and run.

The middle man laughs, shouting, “You won’t make it far before we catch you!”

~~~~~

Fuck fuck fuckfuck! I am dashing through trees. Trying my best not to trip. I hear them laughing and chasing me. I want to fucking scream for help. But it’s been four fucking days. FOUR fucking days and not a single person, or town or village. I’m assuming the reason they hadn’t done anything to me these past days is because they expected me to grovel and beg at their feet when I couldn’t take it anymore. We must be near the town if they are trying to jump me now.

Fuck! I just keep running.

I continue even as my lungs burn. As my arms and legs ache. The sweat trickles down my body. Soaking into my clothes.

I run until I trip. I was looking over my shoulder when I tripped on a raised stump. The air leaves my lungs and pain lances through me. I curl into a ball. Ow. Fucking Ow. I gasp for air and try not to whimper too loud in case the men are still following me. I notice that the tree is standing on its roots. I could hide under them. I shudder. I feel like a little gremlin lives under there. Or a really big spider.

I hear footsteps. Oh no.

I try to not make a sound as I scuttle beneath the tree. Hoping and praying that there are no spiders underneath this thing. Please please please.

A soft whimper escapes me before I can choke it down. The footsteps pause. Oh, god. I cover my mouth with my hand, ducking further beneath. The boots scuff towards me.

They stop before the tree. I am shaking with so much fear I’m surprised the tree isn’t doing so with me. They pause here, tapping as if they’ve got a rock in their shoes. Or some kind of nervous tick. A sniff of the air and then they move onward after huffing.

I wait. Several minutes before trying to scoot out of beneath the tree. I hiss in pain as my bandaged side rubs against an upraised rock. “Fuck.” I moan.

I’m pretty sure I look wild. My eyes wide and terrified. Dirt, grime, leaves and twigs stuck in different places of my hair and clothes. I’m trembling and I’m pretty sure I’ve reopened my wound. I mean, it’s not like the man even stitched me up and therefore it’s been kind of open anyways. But at least it had been scabbed up?

I stand up and listen. I don’t hear any footsteps or voices. I guess I’d lost them. I breathe a sigh of relief. But then looking around me, I realize a fatal flaw.

I’m lost.

Fuck.