Chương 77: 077

"Unbelievable," Dura grumbled, sweeping an irritated look across the clearing.

"We've been walking for fifteen minutes and nothing has tried to kill us." I snorted, tugging another clump of dried moss from my shoulder.

"That's usually something to celebrate." The moss, stiff from a night's sleep on damp earth, crumbled between my fingers. Unfortunately, most of it cascaded straight down the collar of my shirt. I grimaced and shook uselessly. Guess I'd have to get a bath tonight… Dura continued, oblivious to my quiet suffering.

"Normally I can't walk two steps without something lunging out of the trees." She threw her hands wide.

"Do you know how many morning walks have been ruined like that?"

"A lot?" I guessed. She nodded sharply, scowl deepening.

"Hundreds. And now, the one time I want something to fight me, it's peaceful. Utter. Bullshit." I choked back a laugh.

"Sounds about right." I brushed the last of the moss from my sleeve and patted her arm.

"Don't stress about it though. It isn't like we have to do this now. We have rations that'll last for a bit, and I've survived far worse than sleeping on the ground." She stopped mid-stride. Her glare shifted from the forest to me, steady as steel.

"It doesn't matter if you've survived worse. I'm with you now." Her jaw tightened.

"I take care of my people." Something sharp and flinty flashed in her eyes.

"And I'm going to take care of you by finding something with a soft pelt." Then she stomped forward again, shoulders squared like she was daring the entire forest to test her. I hurried to keep up, her words tugging at me.

"So… I'm one of yours, then?" I asked carefully.

"What about Thomas and the others?" Her pace slowed just enough to spare me from jogging.

"Henry's already got his own little family unit," she said.

"Thomas seems like the type who belongs to no one but himself." A pause.

"And maybe his wife. As for Dominicus?" She rolled her eyes.

"I'll keep an eye on him, but I'm not claiming him. He's been an ass since we met. He can deal with his own shit." Her voice dropped, turning cold and firm.

"Unless he pulls a blade on you again, I'll end him before he gets the chance to deal with his shit then." Warmth bloomed in my chest, flipped once, then settled low and steady.

"Much appreciated," I said softly.

"But why am I one of-." The ground trembled. At first it was faint, just a murmur beneath my boots. Then the vibration surged, deepening into a bone-rattling rumble that swallowed the rest of my sentence.

"Shit!" Dura barked. Her arm locked around my waist and she hurled us backward. The ground exploded where we'd stood. Stone shards speared upward like a jagged crown, dirt blasting into the air as something massive burst free in a blur of brown and grey. It didn't hesitate. The creature lunged. Dura met it head-on, planting her feet and swinging. Her axe collided with a heavy crack, sending the beast skidding across churned soil. It twisted mid-slide, claws digging furrows into the dirt.

Dust billowed thick enough to sting my eyes. Two glowing orbs cut through the haze.

"Now that's more like it!" Dura crowed, stepping squarely between the creature and me.

"Been a while since I've seen a Duggy this size." As the dust thinned, I leaned sideways to see past her. A giant chinchilla stared back. Its fur was deep brown and impossibly plush, somehow still immaculate despite the debris clouding the air. Its beady eyes flicked between us, calculating. Front paws pressed flat to the ground, muscles coiled tight. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Dura dropped low, axe angled forward, grin feral.

"Picked the wrong target, buddy. Your pelt's mine." She lunged. The Duggy bounced sideways with shocking speed, dodging the first swing by inches. The axe carved a trench through dirt instead. It sprang again, light, nimble, and infuriatingly quick. Dura only laughed. A red mist began to gather around her, thin at first, then thickening into a violent haze that clung to her shoulders and trailed from her movements. Each step sharpened. Each swing came faster than the last.

The Duggy squeaked sharply, retreating toward the crater it had burst from.

"Oi! You little shit!" Dura snarled, launching forward. She wouldn't make it, not from that distance. Instinct took over. I reached inward, grasping for the familiar current of mana and thrust it outward.

"Bramble's Embrace!" The spell snapped into place. Vines burst from the soil in a violent surge, whipping around the Duggy's hind leg just as its front paws touched the lip of its burrow. It shrieked, high and frantic, clawing at the ground as the vines yanked it backward. Teeth snapped furiously as it tried to chew through the thick brambles, but the magic held. Dura didn't waste the opening. She closed the distance in three strides and brought her axe down in a single, decisive arc.

The impact was clean, and the Duggy went still. Silence settled, broken only by my own breathing and the faint rustle of loosening dirt as the vines dissolved. The red mist around Dura evaporated like steam. She straightened, rolling one shoulder before flashing me a bright, satisfied grin.

"Perfect. Duggy pelts are the softest I've ever found and the meat's a delicacy." She nudged my shoulder with hers, still beaming.

"My plan to spoil you is officially underway." Heat crept up my neck and I rubbed at it, feigning nonchalance.

"Apparently." I cleared my throat.

"Not that I don't appreciate it, but why are you so set on this?" She shrugged like it was obvious.

"Because you've apparently had a hell of a time up to now, and I've decided to change that." Her brow lifted.

"You need another reason?" I hesitated, then shook my head.

"No. I'm just… not used to people caring. Especially not after knowing me for less than a week."

"Eh." She shifted the Duggy higher on her shoulder as if it weighed nothing.

"Orcs all share one thing, we're passionate. Dwarves are similar, but they usually pour it into a craft. Or training." She adjusted her grip and looked at me again, gaze steady and intense.

"We use it in everything. Whatever we like, we dig in deep and damn near obsess over it. Whether it's fighting, crafting or even our bonds." She snorted, shaking her head." Especially our bonds. We've got a nasty reputation thanks to how viciously we protect our soulbonds." That pulled me up short.

"Soulbond… is that like a soulmate?" She tilted her head, considering.

"Is that what beastkin call it?" A brief pause. Then she shook it off.

"Never mind. Of course that's what you call it." She nodded once.

"Yeah. Soulbonds are soulmates. And orcs can get downright feral over theirs. Especially if it's a parental bond." Her expression shifted, turning grim.

"You want to see real bloodshed? Try messing with a child soulbound to an orc. Happened with a friend of mine," she continued.

"Some bastard tried to kidnap her kid. She scattered his limbs around the tribe's borders as a warning." There was no bravado in her voice. Just fact.

"As she should have," I said immediately.

"Anyone willing to kidnap a child deserves worse." Dura's eyes flicked to mine, sharp, approving, and unexpectedly warm.

"Damn right." She walked a few more paces before continuing.

"Point is, I know it probably seems strange to you that I'm already attached." Her shoulders rolled.

"But for my people? It's normal. I like you." She shot me a sideways glance.

"So I'm watching over you. Making sure you stay happy, healthy, and whole." A beat.

"Deal with it." I raised my hands in surrender, smiling despite myself.

"Like I said, I don't mind. I just… feel a little bad. I'm not sure how to return the favor." Her smile softened and she stopped, catching my hand before I could react. Her grip was warm and solid, callused fingers wrapping around mine with surprising gentleness.

"This isn't a trade," she said quietly.

"You don't owe me anything. I'm doing it because I want to. Not because I expect something back." The words settled into me, heavier than they should have.

"And if I want to?" I asked softly. She held my gaze for a long moment, something unguarded flickering there before she looked away. A faint flush dusted her cheeks, barely visible against green skin, but unmistakable.

"Then… do it, I guess," she muttered.

"I'm not hard to please." A small huff.

"I'll like just about anything you do." My eyes drifted to the Duggy draped over her shoulder, fur still absurdly plush even in death. An idea sparked.

"How about I make dinner tonight?" I offered.

"You hunted. Seems fair." She studied me for a moment, the faint blush already fading back into composure. Then she nodded.

"That's fine. You know how to butcher monsters?" Ah. I winced.

"No." Another skill Earth had never required of me. Before embarrassment could take root, she bumped her shoulder lightly against mine.

"Relax. Everyone's got their strengths." She shifted the Duggy again.

"I'll show you when we get back. I'm no master butcher, but I can teach you the basics."

"Sounds good." We resumed walking, the forest brushing softly at our sides. I kept stride with her, mind already tangled in thoughts of dinner and how best to prepare it. There'd be no stove or oven for me to use. Henry had a small pan, so I could use that at least… At least I knew how to cook over a campfire. Otherwise, I'd be in serious trouble.