The forest swallowed my words whole.
I pushed on, stopping every few minutes to call out again. The path twisted upward in dizzying switchbacks, and time became meaningless as I climbed. Twenty minutes. Maybe thirty. My sweatshirt clung to my back like a second skin despitethe mountain chill, and I was just starting to question every life choice that had led me here when I heard the sharp crack of a branch. Not ahead of me. To the side.
I went still, turning with deliberate slowness. Two figures materialized from between the trees, moving with an eerie silence that defied their sheer size. Orcs. Male, both of them, and absolutely massive—easily seven feet of solid muscle and intimidation. They wore practical gear, leather pants and dark t-shirts, but the swords strapped across their backs weren't exactly subtle accessories.
My throat went bone-dry, but I locked my knees and forced myself to meet their eyes. The one on the left had dark green skin decorated with intricate tattoos that snaked up his arms like living vines. The one on the right stood taller, his tusks more pronounced, his expression carved from granite.
"I—" The sound that came out was barely human. I cleared my throat hard and tried again. "I'm Dr. Jordan Bennett. I'm looking for a boy named Ardin. I treated him at the hospital in town. I brought the medicine he needs."
The two Orcs exchanged a look that spoke volumes I couldn't read. The tattooed one moved closer, his eyes—a striking, almost luminous amber—raking over me from head to toe. I could feel the weight of his suspicion like a physical thing.
"You're human," he rumbled, his voice like distant thunder. Not a question. An accusation.
"Yes. I'm a doctor. I work at Franklin Memorial. Ardin came in two nights ago with a gunshot wound. I removed the bullet." I thrust the prescription bag forward like a peace offering. "I have antibiotics. He needs them or he'll risk an infection."
The taller Orc's eyes narrowed to slits. "How did you find this place?"
"I followed the tire tracks." I swallowed against the sandpaper in my throat, not wanting to rat Sarah out for the directions. "Look, I'm not here to cause trouble. I just want to make sure the boy is okay. That's all."
They stared at me, and I could read the distrust etched into every line of their faces. How many times had humans brought them nothing but pain? How many reasons had they been given to turn someone like me away?
"Wait here," the tattooed one finally said. He jerked his chin at his companion. "Watch her."
The taller Orc gave a curt nod, planting himself between me and the path like a living barricade. The other melted back into the trees with impossible silence.
I stood there, acutely aware of the Orc's eyes boring into me, of how utterly alone I was in these woods. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, but I kept my expression carefully neutral.This is fine. This is going to be fine. You're here to help a patient. That's all.
Sarah's words drifted through my mind like a lifeline—the Orcs in this village were peaceful, kept to themselves, didn't cause trouble. She'd had no hesitation about giving me directions. Surely she wouldn't have sent me here if I was walking into genuine danger.
Still, standing under the unwavering scrutiny of an Orc who looked like he could bench-press my truck, it was hard not to let my imagination spiral into increasingly creative worst-case scenarios. I drew a slow breath through my nose, willing my shoulders to drop even as my pulse continued its anxious drumbeat.
The minutes stretched like taffy. Five. Ten. I shifted my weight, adjusted my grip on the prescription bag. The guard remained motionless, silent. Just those unreadable eyes tracking my every breath.
Then—footsteps. Heavy, rapid footsteps thundering down the path. A heartbeat later, Ruka appeared around the bend.
Relief crashed over me like a wave, so sudden and overwhelming I nearly swayed on my feet. The coiled tension in my chest finally released, and I had to lock my knees to keep from melting into the forest floor.
He stopped dead when he saw me, eyes going wide. "Jordan?"
For a second, my brain short-circuited completely.
In the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy, Ruka looked like he'd stepped out of some dream I'd been too sensible to indulge—or maybe a very specific fantasy I hadn't let myself acknowledge until now. His skin was a rich, dark sage green that seemed to catch the golden light and hold it, and those amber eyes practically glowed as they locked onto mine. He wore dark brown leather pants that fit him like a second skin and well-worn boots, but it was the stark white t-shirt that made my mouth go dry. The fabric clung to every sculpted plane of his chest and shoulders, stretched taut across muscles that looked like they'd been carved from stone.
Heat flooded my cheeks.This was so not the time.Here I was, supposedly on a professional medical visit, and I couldn't stop cataloging how the white cotton contrasted against his green skin, how his presence seemed to expand and fill the entire clearing, how my fingers itched to—
Get it together, Jordan. You're here for Ardin. FOCUS.
"Hi," I managed, attempting a smile that probably looked more like a grimace.
He closed the distance between us in three powerful strides, and suddenly the clearing felt much smaller. The concern radiating from him was almost palpable, etched into every line of his face, the tension in his broad shoulders. "Whatare you doing here? How did you—" The question died on his lips as he shook his head, seeming to recalibrate.
"I was worried about Ardin." The confession spilled out before I could second-guess it. "Nadine kicked you out before I could finish treating him, and he needs antibiotics. I brought them." I lifted the bag between us like a peace offering, my knuckles white. "How is he? Your son?"
Something flickered across Ruka's face—pain, maybe, or regret—and the air seemed to thicken around us.
"Ardin is my nephew," he said, his voice dropping to something softer, more vulnerable. "He's not well."
Those two words hit me like a physical blow.Not well.The clinical part of my brain immediately spiraled through possibilities—persistent fever, spreading infection, septic shock—