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The half-orc child stumbled through the wilderness. The full moon was her only light through the dark path of roots, vines, and dirt. She kept running despite being out of breath. Her entire life burned into ashes in mere moments and she wasn’t ready to think about the events that took place throughout this day.
Dagmar grew weak in the knees and her body felt heavier to carry. Her speed came to a stop as she tripped over a root. She crashed into the earth with a thud. She lied their motionless and breathing heavy. Once she started to run she couldn’t stop, and now that she’s been stopped she can’t start again. Her hand slowly balled into a loose fist. She slammed it into the dirt in frustration. Tears began to stream down her cheeks. With what was left of her strength, Dagmar sat up and dragged her body to the nearest tree to lean on. She was a safe distance away from the heat of the trouble she was caught in. It was safe to finally rest after travelling the entirety of the day.
The half-orc’s finger traced the edge of her poorly, filed tusks. She felt the scars on her inner lip.
“That’s why paw cut my tooth…” she muttered to herself.
Suddenly everything that happened to her in life hit her all in unison. Why her father styled her hair to hide her ears. Why her tusks were flattened to look more human. Why interaction with the rest of the tribe she lived with was kept to a minimum. The nomads were bandits, they didn’t accept orcs. Dagmar had a flashback to the encounter with one of her caretaker’s the following afternoon.
The second caretaker tasked with caring for young Dagmar staggered into the tent he, the other caretaker, and she lived in. He was visibly intoxicated, his eyelids were drooping.
“Where’s paw, I’m hungry.” Dagmar said without looking at the man.
“Not even a fucking greeting you useless wretch?” He threw his bottle at the cupboard beside the child. The glass shattered with pieces flying in different directions. Dagmar jumped and then looked back at the drunken man.
“What the hell was that?”
“What the hell was that? That was me signalling that you need to learn your god damn manners.” He turned his attention to the table beside him with assorted cooking ware. He reached his arm out and pushed everything to the floor.
“I had it pretty damn good till your useless, wretched, ass was brought to us. I wanted to turn you in as soon as your lil’ tuskers grew in but Darrek had to get soft.”
Dagmar’s brows furrowed in response to what the man had just said.
“What, ye got nothing to say?” He slapped a pot off a nearby rack.
The curtain opened up and Dagmar’s other caretaker had shown up.
“Goddfrey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m putting my foot down, that’s what. I’m sick of covering your ass just because you got attached to some animal.”
Dagmar’s fists clenched.
“Silence, don’t talk about her like that!”
“What are you gonna-” Goddfrey was hushed by a fist to the teeth. He shoved Darrek off of him and out of the tent.
The orc’s eyes widened. She rushed to help her paw up from the ground.
“Paw-” Her face was met with a quick swipe of the back of Goddfrey’s hand.
“Quit your whining.” Darrek leapt back into tent, tackling Goddfrey to the floor. His hands tightened around the drunk’s throat.
“Hey! What in the nine Hells is going on here?” A deep, raspy voice boomed. The chief of the tribe stepped into the tent with two of his personal guards. Goddfrey shoved Darrek off his person. With quick response, he pointed at Dagmar.
“She’s an orc sire, Darrek made me keep her a secret so you wouldn’t kill her.”
The chief’s focus switched off the bandits and towards the child.
“So you’ve been hiding underneath us and eating up all of our resources have you?”
Dagmar took a step back and gulped in fear. Goddfrey kept talking in hopes to minimize any punishment.
“Now I wanted nothing to do with this, as soon as the signs began to show itself I wan-”
“Shut your mouth before I cut your jaw off.” The chief silenced him without looking at him. “Men, take these two away.”
He drew his hand crossbow from under his long coat and pointed the bolt at Dagmar’s head.
Darrek squirmed and tried to fight through the restraining grips of the guards.
“Leave her alone you bastards! She’s done nothing wrong!”
A familiar headache pulsed through Dagmar. Her fists began shaking uncontrollably. Her skin brightened and glowed. A blinding flash of light flickered throughout the tent. The dazzled bandits stumbled over one another. Darrek seeing his opportunity tackled the chief.
“Dagmar! Get out of here! Don’t look back!”
Without hesitation she hopped over the prone two and fled the tent. Her flashback faded as she ran to the base of the hills and into the surrounding forests.
The sorceress leaned her head back against the bark of the tree. Her eyes closed, tears still streaming down her face. Dagmar felt alone and hopeless. All that was left was to rest now and keep walking to see what tomorrow brings.