Aris sat on the edge of his strawbed, devouring the food with a desperate intensity. Across from him, Lilly—whom he had finally coaxed from her heavy sleep—was not to be outdone. Her small hands were blurred movements as she tore meat from bones with a feral hunger, any trace of exhaustion long gone.
Watching her face, illuminated by the flickering orange glow of the candles, Aris felt his expression soften in a way he hadn't allowed in a long time. For a moment, the "chief," the orcs, and the grim reality of survival faded from his mind.
"Eat slowly. The food isn't going anywhere," he said, his voice softer than he intended.
Lilly paused, a piece of chicken held halfway to her mouth. She looked at him, her eyes bright and defiant. "You're just like me, brother," she shot back, before grabbing the cup of water to wash down a mouthful. "This food is too delicious. I've never tasted anything like it. Where did you get it?"
She glanced toward the dark corners of the room, her brow furrowing. "And where is Sister Eris? Isn't she eating with us?"
As the name left her lips, the smile on Aris's face vanished, leaving a canvas of warring emotions. The orange candlelight, once warm, now only deepened the shadows beneath his eyes, making him look immeasurably weary.
Lilly looked from the meat to her brother. The joy of the meal vanished, replaced by the stillness in his shoulders and the heavy gravity of his silence. A cold weight seized her chest; fear, sharper than any she had felt in the forest, bloomed in her chest.
His silence was the only confirmation she needed.
Tears carved shimmering tracks down her cheeks. Her hand clenched the chicken breast, the grease slick against her trembling skin. "Brother… please," she stammered, each word forced from her throat. "Please tell me."
Before Aris could form a logical, comforting response, his body moved. He pulled her into a tight, crushing embrace. It was only when he felt her small shoulders shaking against his chest that he realized his own arms had reached out.
"Hush now, no more tears," he murmured, drawing her against his chest. He cradled the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair. "We have to be silent. If they find you here... well, let's not think of that. Just know Sister Eris is in a better place now." He hated the lie, but it was the only mercy he had left to give.
Her muffled sobs continued to echo, a lonely sound against the indifferent silence of the village. He simply let her cry, feeling the warmth of her trembling body pressed against his chest until the violent racking softened into hiccups, then finally into long, shuddering breaths.
The candles had burned lower by the time her tears finally stopped, the orange light flickering as the wax pooled. She felt drained in his arms. He pulled back, his hand lingering for a moment on her head. When she looked up, her eyes were red-rimmed but dry, and there was a jarring stillness in her gaze. He had seen survival harden men before, but seeing it take root in her was different.
She's stronger than I expected, he thought. Far stronger than I was at her age.
He leaned back, putting a small but necessary distance between them. "Keep eating," he commanded, his voice regaining its pragmatic edge. "Finish the meat. We need the nutrients for what's coming. Your body is your only weapon right now."
Lilly nodded, resuming her meal with a mechanical, joyless efficiency.
Aris shifted his focus to the bamboo container by the bedside. He leaned down, prying at the stubborn blackened wax until it gave way with a wet pop. The stench hit him instantly—thick, iron-heavy, a rank and predatory musk that felt wrong to his human senses. He turned his head, a grimace tightening his face.
Beside him, Lilly froze. Her head snapped from side to side, her pupils blown wide as she scanned the dim corners. It was as if the scent alone could summon monsters through the walls.
"Calm down." Aris kept his voice low, even as his heart hammered against his ribs. "It's just blood, Lilly. They aren't here. You're safe." But the trembling didn't stop. He gripped her hand, his palm rough and steady, anchoring her until the shivering subsided.
Her gaze drifted to the bamboo segment. "Brother," she whispered, her voice thin and raw. "Why... why do you have the monsters' blood?"
"I took it from the village chief." He released her hand. "Don't worry about how. I have a plan. Just keep eating. Trust me." She didn't look convinced, but the habit of obedience was stronger than her curiosity.
As she reluctantly returned to her meal, Aris turned his attention to the bamboo. The stench rolled off the dark liquid in thick waves. What kind of body produces something this foul? The copper was there, but it was buried under rot and a musk he couldn't name.
He closed his eyes, tapping into the biochip. Prime, analyze the blood. Cross-reference with my own markers. Run projections on poison efficacy and categorize the results.
[Task initialized... Scanning biological samples... Estimated time: 04:09:20.]
Four hours? Aris's jaw tightened. The numbers glowed in his mind, a countdown to a dawn he wasn't ready for. Shorten the processing time.
[Computational overhead is high. Partial analysis available. Estimated time: 03:00:00.]
Three hours for a half-finished job. He reached for a strip of meat, chewing slowly. No. Run the full analysis. He was playing a game where the smallest gap in data was a death sentence. He would wait.
Moments later, the trays were clean, leaving only the lingering scent of grease. They sat in the heavy silence that follows a desperate meal—sated, but coiled with tension. Aris rose to wash the grease from his hands. He brought a cup of water for Lilly to do the same, then turned to the wooden chest in the corner.
His fingers hesitated on the rough-hewn lid—a flicker of the man he used to be—before he forced it open. With detached efficiency, he sorted through his dead wife's belongings.
He pulled out her simple tunics and a heavy woolen shawl, wrapping them around Lilly's small frame until the fabric swallowed her, masking her silhouette against the dark.
He did the same for himself, draping the remaining clothes into a crude, heavy cloak. Finally, he rummaged through their meager utensils until his fingers closed around two knives. They were nicked and rusted, but in his hands, they were better than nothing.
He stood before Lilly. "Forgive me for what I'm about to do." Before she could question him, he gripped her hand. With the bamboo container secured at his hip and the knives tucked into his rope belt, he led her to the door. They slipped out into the biting air.
Outside, the horizon was turning a faint, cold gold. A rooster's crow shattered the silence, followed by the low stir of a village coming to life.
"Let's go," he whispered.
He kept Lilly close, sticking to the shadows cast by the village wall. They moved like ghosts until they reached the target. Aris scaled the wood first. Reaching the top, he dropped the rope.
Lilly caught it with grim determination, looping it around her waist. He heaved, muscles burning and shoulders screaming, until she scrambled over the crest beside him.
Moments later, they stood on the outside. The village was behind them; the unknown lay ahead. At the base of the wall, Aris swept his gaze across the vast gray expanse. The world hung in that pale darkness just before dawn.
He turned to Lilly, his voice a low rasp. "Which direction did you come from?" She hesitated, her hand trembling as she pointed toward the east.
"Good. Then that is where we go," Aris said, already pivoting toward the forest.
Lilly's hand shot out, her fingers twisting into the coarse fabric of his cloak. "No," she said, her voice cracking. "The monsters are there. Brother, we can't go back."
Aris stopped. He looked down, his expression a cold mix of calculation and a flicker of warmth. He stroked her matted hair in a brief, imperfect comfort. "Don't worry. In a world of hunters, the most dangerous place is often the safest. They've already scoured that area; they won't expect the prey to return to the trap."
He didn't wait for her to agree. He led her the forest, their silhouettes swallowed by the pale, fading darkness.
•••
An hour later, as the first true light cut across the world, the Village Chief slipped past the walls. He moved alone, his faceunreadable. His steps were unhurried; he had made this walk many times across years of compromise.
The forest swallowed him. He navigated a path etched into his memory, avoiding brambles with the ease of a man who belonged to the forest.
He walked until a large shape detached itself from the gloom behind a massive tree. The Chief stopped. He bowed his head, with the weary acknowledgment of a man who knew his place in the food chain.
He spoke, his voice dropping into the guttural, grinding sounds of Orcish. "I have news."
The Orc merely grunted and led the Chief deeper toward the settlement.