Page 29 of Orc's Pride

“My mother was weak.” It feels like a betrayal to say the words out loud—how many times had I vociferously denied it? Screamed that it wasn’t true as the other children taunted me?

“She…I hate that word. I do. My mother loved people very much, and very hard. And when they left, and they always left, it destroyed her.”

I remember Faulen, the first man she broke down over. I supposed she’d broken down over my father, too, but my grandmother had been alive then to care for me. If she hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t be alive.

Whenever my mother’s heart was broken, her mind was broken as well.

Fraulen had left her after a festival, when everyone had been drunk and dancing. He’d said it wasn’t for children, but my mother had paced the entire time he was gone. I’d gone to sleep, dizzy from her constant moving and because she’d forgotten to feed me dinner.

As the moon rose higher in the sky and the music faded and he still wasn’t home, she snapped. My mother had dragged me out of bed in the dark of night to look for him. I’d been so humiliated at the time, because after she’d searched the dregs of the party, she’d gone from house to house, shouting his name.

My friends had shouted just like her the next day, collapsing into piles of giggles whenever I snarled.

I remember the way her nails had pierced my skin when she’d found him. The cuts they’d left for the next few days until they’d scabbed over and healed. Annoying, but bearable.

Much more bearable than the next morning, when I’d come home from school after a day full of mockery and found her shaking with the strength of her sobs.

“She wouldn’t be able to get out of bed for days at a time. I had to learn how to care for myself. To care for her, if I didn’t want her to waste away into nothing.”

Sometimes it would even be nice, just me and her. A few nights later, she even drew pictures with me in the kitchen while I tried my hand at making stew, and burned it more than once. But then she’d recover, and then she’d go running back to whoever paid her the most attention.

Dana looks appalled. “That doesn’t seem fair. How old were you?”

“I loved it sometimes,” I confess. I don’t mean to say this, but the words spill out in a rush. “Not that she was so sad, but that she’d finallyseeme. I think…I might have inherited her weakness, somehow. It’s why I don’t pursue relationships.”

Dana blinks at me, confused. “What? What does any of that have to do with you? Are you afraid someone will be that dependent on you again?”

I almost laugh. I wish that were my only problem. “Perhaps, but I don’t want to be likeher. Clingy, dependent on someone else. Destroyed by another person. Especially as a Chieftain. I can’t let relationships get in the way of protecting my people.”

My words sit between us for a few minutes. I’ve held this in for so long, how I secretly fear being weak. That I’m unfit to be a Chieftain, much less a husband or a father. But she doesn’t seem to think it’s as shattering a confession as I do. Mostly she just looks like she’s trying to solve some sort of riddle.

“Isn’t the fact that you’re a Chieftain a sign that you’re strong?” Dana frowns thoughtfully around a bite of rock-hard bread. “I thought that was the only way to rule over a bunch of orcs, through brute force. If your clansmen really thought you were weak, they’d challenge you more.” She chokes down another bite. “It’s a bit disgusting how much they look up to you, actually. I don’t think anyone in your clan thinks you’re not fit to lead.”

I rock back in my chair.

If only it were that easy.

She isn’t understanding, but I didn’t expect her to. How could she, without living it? Seeing a woman she depended on crying for days on end in bed?

“Physically, I’m the strongest in my clan.” All of my damage is on the inside, and I have no way of explaining it to her. Not in a way that makes sense. I take a deep breath and say, “We’re both broken in our way, Dana.”

Her eyes widen.

Does she get it now? I’m not trying to solve any problems, mine or hers. I’m trying to peel off the mask I wear around everyone else so that she can see me just as clearly as she’s allowed me to see her.

And she does. Her eyes meet mine, and she drinks me in.

She sees me.

It should frighten me, perhaps, but it’s such arelief. Like drinking from a crystal clear stream after a long day’s journey. I rule this clan, but I’m always thinking, always strategizing with others.

With Dana, I can just be.

I make us another plate of food, and we sit together as we eat. And this time she doesn’t hesitate to look me in the eyes.

14

Dana