it, and then tears into it voraciously. I watch.
He pulls his face from the meat and lowers the meal. Juice drips from his chin and a strand of meat hangs from his right fang. “You want?” he says, after swallowing.
Until now I had not thought of my own need for refreshment, and remembered that as of yet I had not had dinner. “You would share?” I ask.
He ignores the question and repeats, “You want?” He gestures the meat towards me.
“Yes please,” I respond.
With a satisfied nod he digs his fingers into the meat and throws me a sizable chunk. I didn’t expect the throw, and so the meat almost slips from my grasp and into the dirt, but I manage to catch it before it touches the ground. I look back up and see Ullrog ripping through his meat.
I try a bite and find myself both surprised and impressed. The orc must have seasoned the meat with something more than salt when he stashed it away this morning. The outside is deliciously crisp, on the verge of burnt, and the pork has lost very little juice to the fire. The rest of it gushes into my mouth.
I find myself licking my fingers when the supply of meat has gone. The orc belches loudly and picks a strand out of his teeth, and then slurps it up like a noodle.
He looks at the dark sky. “You sleep outside? Not in city?”
I nod. “Maybe my absence will prove a point.”
He thinks about my sentence for a moment, and seems to grasp the concept. Then he says, “I have blanket you use.”
“I couldn’t take away your own bed.”
“Extra,” he says. Then he pulls a blanket out of his pack. The item reminds me vividly of the almost identical item I had given Nathaniel for his birthday in Terrace only months ago.
“Thank you,” I say, catching the thrown item.
“ Freyash ,” he responds. He does not catch the fact that he has spoken in Orcish, but I do not correct him.
I sleep under the blanket with my head resting on top of my balled-up jacket. The night is cold, but tolerably so.
Induction
I wake to the sound of tightening ropes.
I start and sit up, breathing heavily, feeling about my chest for the ropes that I’m sure he must have tied around me- only to see him looking at me amusedly from the other side of the clearing.
He pulls a rope that is slung over a long branch high in the tree, hoisting his pack higher and higher into the tree with every heave. I notice that he has woven pine branches onto the pack, disguising it nicely in the brush. The rope is slightly conspicuous, but he isn’t worried. He ties it off on a low branch and slings his sheath onto his shoulder.
“You had breakfast?” I ask. The sun has hardly risen; the first rays of daylight are just beginning to come up behind the mountains to the east, so most of the world is still cloaked in the umbra of night.
“Food?” he asks.
I nod.
“Not hungry,” he replies. “Eat later.”
I nod my understanding and roll up the blanket dutifully. He watches, and then takes it when I hand it to him. Because his pack is already in the tree, he simply hides the blanket in the brush underneath the hanging rope.
“You have plan?” he asks, scrutinizing me with his black eyes.
It takes me a moment to recall what he is talking about, probably due to the fact that I’m still waking up. “Yes,” I reply. “I’ll get you into the army.”
We time our approach to the city so perfectly that the drawbridge opens just when we get within a hundred yards. The sun is still in the process of rising, so the sky is gray and the world is lit in twilight.
“You!” says one of the guards atop the gate. He points at Ullrog. “You’re not allowed into the city!”
“Under what charges?” I pose. “Offering his sword in service of the Jarl?”
“Captain!” the guard exclaims in surprise. “Those were my orders!”
“Well, I must ask you to suspend them,” I command. “Because
John Warren, Libby Warren
F. Paul Wilson, Alan M. Clark