Lost to the Orcs (Oyeon Orcs)

Chapter Seven Female Orcs

CHAPTER SEVEN: FEMALE ORCS

We arrive in the clearing, not long after. U’snar sits with me in his lap. He takes a small container from a pack he snatched up before we sat down. The container reminds me of old beauty products but instead of pigmented powder, inside is green sludge. The same sludgy slime that had been on my slice. He takes some on his first two fingers after washing his hands with more water, and gently wipes it against my skin. Starting at my shoulder and gliding gently, slowly; so slowly down. I’m flushed with embarrassment but he doesn’t stare. At least, not while I’m looking. I have no idea if he takes a peak when I close my eyes to shut him out. But then all I can think about and feel are his fingers . As they glide on my skin in gentle caresses.

My eyes widen, large in my face as I jerk my head up to look at him. I can feel him. My butt is nestled against his lap and something else. Something straining for release. My breath hitches as it pulses against me, as if to acknowledge my thoughts. As if to confirm them. Our eyes meet briefly before he drops his gaze back to his hands and the salve he is slathering on my skin.

He lifts me off his lap and places me on my butt on the grass, taking a foot and removing the leather. He hisses, brows meeting in a furrow. His golden gaze narrowed. “Jaedason weel no’ be pleased.”

To distract myself from him and his hands I ask, “Wh-Who is Jaedason?”

“Jaedason is chief t’ ‘he tribe. Son of Jaeda. She was a great Orc woman. ”

“There are Orc women?” Many books I read do not have Orc Women in them. So this is nice. It means the males are not dependent on human females to procreate! Except maybe U’snar. Considering he is set upon me being his ‘mate’.

He nods. “They are rare. Like black pearls. You are rarer.” He caresses my ankle in acknowledgment. A shiver dances across my skin. “Like dream weavers.” He taps his chin before nodding, confirming his own thoughts. “They are rarer than black pearls.”

“What’s a dream weaver?”

He hums lost in thought as he continues to wipe the goo on my cut-up feet. “Dream weaver’s have magic. They take you here,” he points at his chest, where his heart is, “an’ take you elsewhere. Different places.”

“What kind of places?” My brows pinch in confusion. Nose scrunched to emphasize this fact.

He hums again. Trying to convey to me what this place is. “They are strange places. With tall towers. But no’ round stone walls. They have sharp edges. Screaming metal runs faster than any beast on hard black sand. Hard walls you see yourself in. Like water but much clearer. No forests, merely sparse trees here an’ there.” I stare at him in a mix of awe and horror.

“Cars? Windows or do you mean mirrors?” It’s his turn to stare at me. His golden gaze is narrowed and his brows furrowed. I’m not sure what emotions are passing over his features but it fills me with nervous tension.

“You have met a dream weaver?”

“I—No. I mean, I don’t think so?” Could it have been a dream? Living an entire life as someone else? Oh my god. Do I even look like me? But if I’m not from the 21st century, then why don’t I remember my life here? I don’t know about Orcs except from books from my time. From fairy tales. They’re the bad guys. Not this nice, talking, humongous; I hesitate at beast because he is no monster and I can’t really say man either because he definitely is not a man, so I’ll settle on Orc. They weren’t this nice, or relatively kind, humongous Orc. (I still can’t believe he can literally use me as an arm rest.) Just mean and sometimes fat dumb dumbs.

“Sometimes, dream weaving makes one forget.”

“Forget? ”

He looks at me pointedly. “Lost.” Ah. He thinks I met a dream weaver and lost my memory. I shrug. For all I know I could have. But it doesn’t feel right.

“How would I know?”

He sits back, his duty done. “Dream weavers can feel their kinds magic.” He waves over me like a blanket.

“The magic on me?” He nods. “So, they will know if I have met with one?” Again, another nod. “Can we meet one?”

He frowns deeply. It cuts into his skin and unnaturally twists his lips. I can see how people might call Orcs ugly if they frown like that often. He glances at the sky and takes in a deep breath as if to center himself. He starts to put away our items. I mean not really ours. The only things I own are the skirt on my bottom and well, that’s really it. This cape is his. And my shirt has mysteriously disappeared. “Maybe.” He finally answers when he’s all packed. “The heat ends soon. It weel be hard t’ find one before then.”

“But it can be done?”

“They wander but I know o’ one. Irf.” His frown turns into a scowl with a full scrunched nose and show of his terrifying teeth. But the emotion isn’t complete annoyance. There is something else there. Something… almost sad.

“Urf?” He snorts but doesn’t correct me.

“We can see Irf if it’s your wish.”

I nod frantically and he sighs. Regret in that gust of air. If I hadn’t already figured out that he was reserved towards Irf, then I would have from his sigh. “I just need answers.” I murmur imploringly.

He nods in agreement before putting on his pack and lifting me in his arms. “Jaedason said if I did no’ return to the waters, he would meet me at ‘he mountains.”

“Where is this urf?”

He smirks at some private joke. Probably because I keep messing up the name. But it really just sounds like he’s saying urf and I have no other way of sounding it out. “Near ‘he Mountain. Two days.”

“To get there?”

He coughs but it sounds like he’s trying to cover up a laugh before he shakes his head. I feel his fingers flex on my thigh as he murmurs softly enough that I can’t hear but I think he’s counting. “Two or three weeks.”

“ WEEKS?! ” I squeak.

That does make him laugh. That loud booming beautiful sunshine laugh. I am awestruck and flushed. Dazzled by the sun in his eyes. My whole body tingling with awareness of just him . I clutch my hands together under the confines of the cape, closely to my chest in order to prevent them from shaking.

“If I carry you all ‘he way?” He cants his head, thinking some more. “A week.”

I frown. “Why would it take longer if I walked?”

“Slow. Too too slow.” I scoff. How dare he! My fist clenches, ready to punch him. “If you strike me, I’ll see beneath my cloak.” My outrage is sucked back in at this realization and I shake like an angry little chihuahua. I hate the analogy but it’s probably pretty accurate. Especially next to this, I take it back, he’s definitely a beast.

~~~~~

Three days into our walk we find a small body of water. It’s fed from a stream further up that cuts through the land. I am happy because I can tell how smelly and gross I am. U’snar took all the leaves and twigs out of my hair after I muttered expletives and complaints while pulling at them. But there’s still dirt and grime on me that has accumulated during our travel so far.

Every night, U’snar would take the time to clean the goop off my chest and feet before he would reapply it. The healing is going by so much faster than it had before. Which I find surprising but do not mention. We both know I’m somehow not knowledgeable about a world I obviously should know about.

There wasn’t really much to do on the walk these past few days. So, all I did was stare at him or the surrounding trees while he carried me. I slept a lot and he said it was normal. I guess the salve had some herbs that are there to help with the pain. The only side effect is that people tend to fall asleep. Usually it’s children, as adults have had it enough that they aren’t affected by it as often. It’s another thing that makes me wonder about myself. My origin so to speak.

I look at my reflection and see myself as, well, as I’ve always looked. Same eyes, same hair. Same skin. I’m not as round as I remember but that could be due to essentially a week of eating mostly nuts and berries and not cheeseburgers or rice and salty hot dogs. I blink. The dawning of what could only be a first world horror filling me. Oh my god do these people have cheese?? Mexican blend? Pepper jack?? Oh, I think I’m going to cry.

Why is it cheese that pushes me over the deep end?

I watch my face blur and then the water ripples as the tears fall into the water. Obscuring my image further. My silent sobs wrack my body with horrible trembles as I clutch the mud and rocks on the little bank. I want to scream. I want to cry.

It took nearly a whole week and the thought of cheese to break me down. What if I can’t go home? What if it were all a dream? What if everything I knew was a lie? Do I have amnesia?

I don’t want to think that my parents weren’t real. I remember the love and affection they showered me with. The hugs and kisses. If I didn’t have my locket—

Oh no! I pat my chest frantically. No no no. “Oohsnar!” I shout and I hear his feet rushing towards me in moments. When he sees me on the ground, still not washed and scrabbling to stand on my still hurt feet, he stops me.

“What?” He shakes me gently. But still my teeth rattle and a headache blooms. I can’t even think about if he weren’t gentle how much that’d hurt.

I sob. “Necklace. Did I have a necklace?” I continue to pat my chest as if it would magically appear. Checking imaginary pockets because this stupid dress doesn’t have any before going back to my neck and chest.

His frown deepens into that ugly look that I dislike. “Necklace?”

“The locket !” I shout loud enough to make birds flutter in the nearby trees.

Light dawns in his eyes before he lets me go and walks away. He returns not long after, while I’m trying to stand. He makes a growling noise I hadn’t heard in some time and sits me back down on my bottom. He dangles something from a chain in front of my face. It’s my mother’s locket. I go to grab it but he pulls it away. “That’s mine!” I hiss, rage replacing my grief.

“Bathe.” He orders. “You can have it once you bathe.”

We glare at each other for a time. Him in stubbornness, myself in anger. Though, truly, I know it is a losing battle. He will bathe me himself if I make things difficult. I have garnered that over the past few days. In fact, I recall when I nearly peed myself because he wouldn’t walk away. Instead informing me that he will strip me if I do and I can be held in only my cape or naked. It does not matter to him. I’d had to bite my lip and swallow my pride.

I snap the cape off and stand on my pained feet, yanking my skirt down to the floor. I stand defiantly in the nude before him. His eyes are wide with admiration as they traverse my flesh. I can almost feel them like thousands of hands on me. My nipples peak beneath his gaze and a rush of heat clenches my core. I watch every nuance of emotion cross his features. How his lips firm in some resolve to not touch me. A pink flush on his cheeks. And his nostrils flaring as he smells my own arousal. Just as he looks like he’s about to come to a decision, I turn my back to him, take a running start before cannonballing into the water.

When I surface, I smirk at the now drenched Orc on the shore. My mirth only lasts a second when I realize the water makes the pants cling to him in ways that I secretly want to. And then it turns to horror as I watch him watching me. His hands at his waist band. Oh. Oh no. I turn away, trying to get to the edge of the lake and hull myself up.

I don’t hear a splash. I don’t hear anything. But suddenly, hands are spanning my waist, fingers nearly touching on either side, and I can feel the heat radiating off his chest. “Now I must wait for my cloth to dry.” There’s a smile in his voice. I don’t look at him. My whole body is flushed like a tomato, I just know it. “Swim with me?” He whispers it in my ear as if the trees were listening in. His breath on my wet skin makes me shiver.

He’s never been this bold. Yes, he talks, he teases. But we’ve never been naked, together. So close. He turns me around. Our bodies facing one another. I don’t look down. I will not look down. My gaze skitters over the water for a second. ONE second. Before I stare at his throat. My own is dry. I can’t speak.

“Mmm.” He hums. He does that for two reasons. When he is thinking deeply. Or because something has pleased him. And the heat in his gaze tells me he is quite pleased. If I could get any redder, I’d be neon. He lifts a hand and grazes it on my shoulder. “What are these?”

I look and see him tracing my freckles. I clear my throat. “Freckles. Some people say the spots mean your skin was kissed by the rays of the sun.”

“Sunkissed. The sun kisses you lots, eh?” He grins. His sharp teeth doing stuff to me. Making me squirm.

“I guess.” I shrug feeling my ears burn. “But I never actually went outside. Yet I have freckles where—” I don’t complete that sentence. Because I was about to say there are freckles where the sun has never touched and I don’t know if I want him to know where those are.

“Where else?” He purrs, golden gaze hooded, looking at me as if he can just imagine where.

I shake my head, “Doesn’t matter.” A nervous chuckle escapes my throat like a frantic rabbit being chased by a predator. “Where’s the soap?”

His grin broadens as he shows me a rag tied around a lump he’d somehow held while holding me. I hadn’t even noticed. “Need help, lost mate?”

Scrabbling for words, I mumble a dissent before snatching the soap rag from him and scrubbing my body ruthlessly while he swims lazily around. Which I stubbornly do not track except with my peripheral.

When I’m red and sore from my scrubs, my feet and the slice throbbing in pain, I have a better handle on my libido. I hope. “Here!” I toss the soap in the air and it narrowly misses his head. He jerks to a stop. “Sorry!” I squeak. “How do I dry?”

He doesn’t reply and I slowly swim to a flat rock warmed by the sun. It’s borderline hot. But it’s just what this cold breeze has me needing. I arrange myself so that I’m not overtly flashing the Orc in the waters, but I know he can probably see nearly everything.

I feel myself fall into a light doze and it’s not until a shadow falls over me that I crack open my lids. I track the water droplets on a grey green thigh. Skittering up and over his pointed endowment, over his pubic hair, to his toned stomach and abs. Pecs. The column of his neck. To the lust filled look on his face. “You will burn, pretty.” I blink. Pretty? I am suddenly wrapped in the cloak. Covered from shoulder to toe. He tsks. “Your cheeks are pink.” That’s because I’m so damn embarrassed. I don’t remember the last time anyone called me pretty. Hot. Yes. Sexy, I’m pretty sure I was told a time or two. But usually, it was vulgar. Or a one-night stand. Nothing like how U’snar says pretty .

He says it like he’s painting my skin on a canvas. As if my body was a song he wishes to sing morning, noon and night. My flush deepens and he shakes his head. “Come. I weel take you t’ ‘he shade. You are hot.” Very. Oh my god I’m so hot. He takes me into his wet naked arms. Oh, I’m gonna faint. Does fainting mean he’ll give me CPR? Should I have pretended to drown?

He sits me on the grass before pulling out a spare pair of pants from his pack and dressing. His back to me I get a glorious view of all those backside muscles. Calves and thighs that would have taken me years to get. And that ass .

Once covered, he walks back to the bank. I watch him wash my skirt and his mud-soaked pants. Good thing they were already a kind of ugly brown so the stains wouldn’t show that much. Plus, I don’t think people here have the same kind of discrepancies about stains and whatnot as we do on Earth. He lays them on the rock where I had been dozing before returning to me.

“Tell me more of your tribe.” He hadn’t really told me much since the first day. Usually, we walked in silence. There isn’t really much to talk about when we’re in the middle of nowhere or dozing off because of medicine. Hell, I don’t even know how he knows we’re going in the right direction. I mean, obviously, he must know. Otherwise, his prediction on the lake would have been incorrect but nope. Right on the dot.

He purrs. I know it’s not really a purr but the hum he emits right now, really sounds like it. And it’s both comforting and arousing. Though, I’m pretty sure I’m just in a perpetual state of arousal at this point. Just can’t click the ‘off’ switch it seems. Either that or it’s fucking broken. Wouldn’t be surprised if the male short circuited me.

“Jaeda made it. She brought great joy t’ many. Big brood o’ Orclings. Jaedason was first; strong chief in training. H’nash was second. He was also a dream weaver. An’ Irf’s sire. Narod was third, annoying Orc. Grug was fourth, an’ felt he must compete. Tilge was sixth but she was small.” He cups his hands like he were going to drink water from the lake. “Tilge was born early. She lived four days. Many o’ ouer people grieved ‘he loss. Even if we feared for her. As female orclings are always small.”

“You sound like you knew her.”

He nods. “I held her.” He mimics the action of holding a baby. “ Was older by six full seasons. Tilge was Jaeda’s last kit. When Tilge died, Jaeda made Jaedason chief. He was only 29 seasons. Very young for chief. But Jaeda was in grief an’ died no’ long after Tilge. Said she couldn’t leave her t’ ‘he After alone. She loved her Orclings. But most were grown. Except her daughter.” He reaches into his pack and hands me a rag. I use it to wipe away the tears I hadn’t noticed were spilling down my cheeks.

“And you.” I add for him, as he seems to have forgotten that fact.

He nods and gives a sad smile. “And me. Jaeda was kind. Loved all her orclings an’ their orclings. She sang t’ us. Gave sweet names. Hugged us. Taught us. She was a great dam.” His honey eyes hold the memory of this female. Who loved her children. Cared for them.

“Are not all Female Orcs kind?” If his mother was kind surely there are others.

He harrumphs. “No. Not all are kind. Some feel they must be strong. Stronger than other Orcs. Their Orclings are raised by their sires, who might no’ have learned love an’ care from their own.”

“What about the human moms? I mean, I can’t be the only human who an Orc has wanted to mate.”

U’snar takes out some stale bread, a handful of berries and some nuts from a pouch in his bag. He splits his bounty with me. “Humans are worse.” That surprises me. Especially if he wants me as a mate. With my brows nearly meeting my hairline, he smiles at my expression. Wiping a crumb off my cheek he adds, “Not you. Others.”

I roll my eyes. “You barely even know me.”

His hum fills some void in my chest and warms it under slow heat. “I have my life t’ know you. But I can learn before we join.” I flush red and this time his hum is very approving. “Would you like me t’ know you? Learn your secrets?”

I laugh. “I don’t have secrets.”

“Lies. All have secrets.”

“What are yours?” The question escapes like a wild horse.

“You wish t’ know my secrets?” His grin is infectious and I try my damnedest not to smirk. But my lips twitch, and I’m pretty sure he notices because his grin widens. Offering mercy, he continues our conversation, “Humans leave their mates. Afraid. O’ angry. O’ forced.”

“Forced to leave? ”

“By other humans.” Oh. “They dispose o’ Orcling o’ birth them an’ leave them alone in ‘he woods. Their cries pierce your heart.” He pats his breast. Just where his heart would beat.

I suck in a breath. Oh, that poor baby. “But it’s a baby.” My voice is so soft I’m surprised he hears me. The horror in my tone satisfying him in some way.

“A babe, yes. T’ us. Them? It is just Orc spawn.” I watch as his face pinches in pain and his hands fist in his lap. I want to curl up in his arms and offer him comfort but I don’t know if I should.

“I’m so sorry.” He gives me a weak, bitter smile. “Has someone—have you…?” I don’t know if I can even ask this question. I take a deep breath before expelling the question as quickly as possible. “Did someone do that to your Orcling?”

Our eyes meet and there is such pain in his expression. But he shakes his head. “Not mine. My brothers. I was t’ fetch them. But they–he was small. Too small. I brought him home t’ be laid with Jaeda. So, she can protect him in his sleep.”

“Because she is his grandma?” At his head cant, I elaborate. “His father’s mother.”

He nods. “Jaeda will care for him in ‘he after until I o’ Jaedason can.”

“Why you?”

“Jae an’ I share. I was no’ home for several moons.” The o of my mouth gets a little bigger with each word that passes from his lips. “When I returned, Jae was elated. Ouers he said. Though I knew ‘he kit was his. I was… happy. Sumira I—we thought, was happy. But she hurt him an’ ran. Went back. We mourned them.” His fists tighten in his lap once more. With bitterness and anger. “Then she left him. Crying. Alone. So small. So cold.” His golden eyes drip with honey, the tears shining as brilliant as crystallized sap.

I touch my hand to his. “He might not have been directly yours. But in all ways that counted he definitely was.” He doesn’t say it but I can see his thanks. “As a side note,” I pull my hand away after patting him gently on the fist. “If I ever see this woman, I’m going to fuck her up.” A laugh bursts from him. “I mean it. I don’t care what she was thinking. She’s a bitch. I might not look it but I can fight one on one. I didn’t grow up fighting all the time but in foster care you sometimes had to stand up to those bullies. I’ve got a mean left hook.” I give him my smuggest smile. Which gets him smiling and shaking his head.

“I can’t believe it.”

I mock gasp. “You would call me a liar?”

“Mayhap they were weaker.”

My mock gasp becomes real. With narrowed eyes I admonish him. “You, sir, are rude and I’d advise you not to insult me.”

“Or you’ll hit me with youer small hands? Or perhaps youer little feet? A tiny fist?”

“How dare you??” I stand up barely taller than him in his sitting position and shove him. He doesn’t budge. So, I push harder. “Will you fall over??” His shoulders shake beneath my palms. He’s laughing !

“You would have me lie? Fall over t’ youer puny attack?”

“One of these days I’ll make you fall on your ass so hard it’ll rattle your teeth!” I hiss. Suddenly, the male gives. I fall directly on top of him.

He hums his approval. “If you wish t’ fall like this, I weel fall more often.”

My bare breasts fill the space between us. Practically molded to his warm muscled chest. My skin flushes beet red. “I didn’t know you were going to!”

“But, Sunkissed, you asked me t’.” His rumble reverberates from his chest into mine. I scramble off of him and only because he lets me. But he stays laying there. “I am teasing myself too much.” His words are followed by a groan as he covers his eyes with his palms.

“Thank you for telling me.”

He lays there, just breathing. Those palms covering his eyes and blocking out the world. “Most beautiful mate. In every ever. In every after. That is o’ ever weel be. I shall cherish every moment o’ you.”

I don’t know how to respond. I don’t even think I can. The devotion, the care that he shows me. All day and all night? Because let’s not forget, the male literally sits and takes watch all night long. I’m not sure if he’s even slept these three days.

“Good phase, lost one.” He sighs. The sun isn’t completely down but I can tell he knows about my censure. I don’t know how to say to him that he’s far too sweet. So damn sweet. But that doesn’t matter. Sweet can’t get me home. No matter how much it makes my chest ache at the thought of leaving; if there is a chance, I have to try. There isn’t a whole lot for me there but I can visit my parents’ graves. Maybe reconnect with my friends?

I lay down, hoping to fall asleep quickly. When in reality I’m not tired. I’m lost thinking about everything U’snar has told me. Lost, staring at him as he goes about sharpening knives I hadn’t really known he’d had. Just lost. I am the lost one. His lost one.

Because that is what I am. I roll onto my back and stare up at the sky. At stars that are just coming into view. Ones I do not recognize. There is no ‘milky way’. Just two moons. One smaller than my moon and the other really smaller than my moon. As if when all those asteroids collided with earth or even when the moon itself had, the left-over debris made a tiny moon and a big moon. But it’s so much more than that.

So much is different. I touch my neck and nearly yelp in horror as I remember that my locket is gone. But it’s dangling above me. U’snar apparently watching me and noticing my panic is giving it back. “Thank you.” My voice is watery but all he does is begin to hum. It’s a soothing song. I wish I could hear him sing. I feel like that would be even more soothing.

I put the necklace back on. I unlock the tiny mechanism with the key attached at its back. Within the little machine are two pictures. One of my father and mother, happy, dancing like they’d loved to do. And another with their arms around a gangly teenaged girl with a wild head of hair and a wide brilliant grin.

If I am from this world and only saw a dream weaver, why then, do I have my mother’s locket? But then again… “Oohsnar?” He grunts a hmm during his song. “Do you have pictures?”

“Pick-chures?”

“Like a painting. But it’s instant and happens with a bright FWAH of light.” Looking over at him as I describe it with my words and hands, I watch his smirk bloom.

“Sounds like magic.”

“I mean, it could be equated to it. But it’s just technology.”

“No instant paintings o’ pick-chures.” I stand and walk over to him. In his seated position I am just barely taller.

I hold my locket to him. “What about these?” In the picture of my mother and my father, she is wearing a creamy champagne dress, and the same color ribbon in her red hair. My father is wearing a tux with a cute blue boned bow tie. Our picture together, I’m wearing cutoff jeans and a tank top. My mother is also wearing pants and a simple V-neck t-shirt. Whereas my father is wearing blue jeans and a navy t-shirt. He really loved blue.

He stares at the photos as if they are magic themselves. Holding my family photo in front of him, I notice the awe in his expression. He’s not looking at my parents but at me. The gangly youth.

“This is you? As a child?”

“A teenager, but yes. I was a lot younger than I am now. More than 10 years or seasons, as you put it.”

He smiles caressing my cheek. “Not so long. I am 47 seasons.” I jerk my head to stare into his eyes and his smile broadens into a grin. “Too old, lost one? Jaedason is 70 seasons when ‘he snow falls.”

I laugh. “Gosh and here I thought you were my age. You don’t even have any grey hairs!”

“How many seasons Sunkissed? Are you but a babe?”

That has me snort. “Oh, heaven forbid. I’m nearly 30 seasons.”

He wiggles his brows, “Like us experienced?”

“No—

“I know how t’ use my tongue.”

“Oh my god—

“Make you sigh an’ moan from my fingers. Scream as youer nectar slides down my palm, onto my waiting tongue.” He smiles wickedly at me. If his words hadn’t made me wetter than a waterfall that look would have. I watch his nostrils flare as he scents me; licking his lips. “weel you let me taste?”

I don’t know what compelled me to do it. But as I watch him devour me with his eyes. My hand glides to my sex, just beneath the pants he let me borrow. I whimper when my fingers slide over the wet slick there. When I gather enough of my juices on my fingers, I bring them to his lips and slather them with it. He doesn’t move. Barely breathes. Except for the initial sharp intake of breath from his surprise.

When my hand pauses, hovering over his lips, his long thick tongue wraps around my fingers. Tasting me again and again until all that is on them is his saliva.

“Good night, U’snar. ”

His tongue glides over his lips, once, twice. Before he seems capable of a response. “Good phase, Sunkissed.”