The Orc groaned. The rope dug into his palms, pulled over the back of his shoulder like a smoldering whip of fire scorching his skin.
A growl echoed from a dozen steps forward.
He was lagging behind. The three that walked at the front were barely visible in the darkness that ruled over the dark forest. He could only keep track of them thanks to the lit torches they held.
"Please…" The cause of the Orc's delay spoke, and moved, causing the burning sensation to worsen. "Please, help me…"
On the Orc's back was her cage. It was so cramped that she needed to remain curled up at all times to fit.
"Please, I can tell that you're not like the others."
The Orc groaned and stopped momentarily. He arched his back, bent his knees, and slowly released the rope so that the cage would land on the ground softly.
"I can see it in your eyes. You're not like-"
Her words were cut short as a punch landed on the Orc's cheek, sending him tumbling, his back crashing against a tree's trunk a couple of steps further.
The Elf gulped as the toughest Orc of the group let out a fearsome growl that made her arms tremble. While describing this Orc as the toughest one was technically correct, there wasn't much difference between it and the others.
The only one truly different was the Orc that was holding his stinging cheek. He walked over, gaze stuck to the ground.
While he didn't lose when it came to height, the difference in stature and musculature between him and the others was staggering. In fact, Orcs were known for their bulging muscles and their incredible strength.
This one, however, was lanky and skinny. It was rather unheard of, a skinny Orc.
This particular Orc possessed another property that was unheard of in Orcs, but the Elf had no way of knowing that, nor would she care.
She was being held captive. Captured after a moment of inattention. Her body was bruised and her clothes torn. Thankfully, the abuse she suffered during her capture stopped at a couple of hits.
This doesn't mean she didn't fear for her life constantly. Many times since she had been captured, in the night, one of the Orcs would start approaching her cage, its eyes filled with anger and desire, its face twisting and contorting, the piece of cloth around its privates barely holding its own against its raging… Thankfully, the skinnier Orc always got in the way. Something that got him beat up, but alerted the others in the process. All three Orcs had, one by one, tried at one point or another, but were stopped in their tracks.
Because of the compassion that the skinnier Orc showed her again and again, despite getting beaten to a pulp each time, the Elf had grown to see him as her only way out. As the only one who could help her, maybe even save her.
Unfortunately, her pleas fell on deaf ears.
This Orc, just like the others, couldn't use or understand language.
The only reason why the Elf was being kept safe was because she was an offering. Having incurred the Orc Chief's wrath, the four Orcs, as was custom, set out to bring their Chief something that would calm and soothe him.
A young, healthy, and beautiful female Elf was as good a gift as it got.
"Please…" She muttered again as the rope tied to the cage was taken hold of.
He was the skinniest and weakest of the bunch, yet he was being made to carry the cage.
That was only natural. Orcs were a warrior race. Those lacking in strength were at the bottom of the hierarchy. The Orc had accepted this fact long ago. Over and over again, he was beaten to a pulp. Most of time, for no reason, used like a punching bag. Having lived under such conditions his whole life, the Orc had learned to live with it, to accept it, and to find the proper ways of acting and reacting so as to de-escalate situations instead of making them worse. Making it worse, even once, could lead to his death after all.
Sniff- Sniff-
The Orc at the front noticed something. The other two walked up to it.
Sniff- Sniff-
They turned back and growled.
Not only was he to act as their porter, but also as their scout.
The scars on his body, the Elf had noticed, weren't all from blows landed by fists and shins. The Orc had been stabbed, slashed, clawed, bitten, and burned. The other three Orcs had nowhere near the same number of scars as him. It was because their strength was superior, but also because they made him take the majority of the danger. Even earlier, a Fire Wolf had stood in their way, and they had sent this Orc to fight. Or rather, to grab its attention.
It was only when the Magic Beast's burning breath was scorching his skin that the other Orcs took advantage of the situation by circling around and attacking the Fire Wolf from behind.
His muscles weren't as developed, and his skin wasn't as tough either, the Elf noticed as she passed a hand through the iron bars and laid it on his back.
"Please-"
He groaned and shook the cage. Her hand was soft, and her touch gentle. It was so unlike anything he'd ever felt that it made him recoil even more than the pain brought on by the burning rope had.
Gentleness was something that he wasn't used to. Something he had never known.
Her touch, despite only lasting a moment, made something rise in his chest.
He quickly lowered the cage, running away from that touch and sensation.
Whatever they had noticed, it was his job to go bring it out.
Their low growls echoed as he went past them, his gaze lowered.
They had smelled blood. He could smell it too.
He walked past a dozen trees. The smell originated from much further than that.
The Orc turned around after crossing a hundred meters. The torches' lights could barely be noticed in the distance. As always, they had kept the torches for themselves, forcing him to walk through the darkness blind.
He took another step.
The blood was near.
Another step.
Branches wavered. A thin branch on the ground cracked.
The blood-
A massive Twin-Tailed Scorpion extended its scissor-like tails.
The Orc's body was cleanly and swiftly cut in two.