In the moments before the green skin arrives on top of me, arcing its body and raised club through the air, I note how uncontrolled it is. Normally, raiders are desperate, looking to take without violence. They retreat quickly, preferring stealth to this madness. Something is really wrong with this one. My sluggish pulse ramps into high speed beating against my ribs as the club slashes down into the ground where I was moments ago. Narrowly missing my ankle, it would have completely pulverised the joint. Gasping at the sudden move, I hold my sickle up in front of me. Its sharp inside curve isn’t meant for combat, and its shorter than the club clad in metal studs. Hissing menacingly, the commander stalks after me, slashing side to side with its weapon backing me into the trees. I can’t look behind me and move, making my path uneven. Anytime I try to move to one side instead of getting further into the trees, the commander leaps forwards, cutting me off with a wild swing.

  The club is heavy. It can’t stop swinging when it starts. Can I use that somehow? After it swings its heavy club, it has to swing wide and catch the club on the ground or get turned around from the force of its weight. The third time it swings, I dash forwards, slashing with my blade. The curve cuts through the air, Allie’s sharpening making it clint in the sunlight through the trees. The creature’s tough muscles catch the blade, preventing it from cutting too deeply. It jerks, pulling the weapon from my hand. Gasping, wide eyed, I don’t have time to dodge its backhand. My head rings with the impact. My jaw aches.

  It surges forwards, grabbing me by the throat and sniffing deeply.

  “Mmmm, tasty juicesss. I am hungry for juiceeee!” Its hideous tongue slaps against my face, spittle going everywhere. I cringe away from its clutches, the stink battering against my senses. My hands can’t grab its fingers, the tough skin preventing me from digging in my short nails. Kicking my legs only makes it grin wider.

  “Let me go!” I squeak, my vision going spotty.

  “Nooo!” it cackles, ramming me against something again and again. I spot a movement behind it, surprised I can still see. It’s a greenskin but a deeper green than the lighter skins I’ve seen so far. A burst of pain crashes over me whiting me out into the void

  -----

  Terrified and unable to keep my feet on the ground, I struggle my way across burning fields, finding blood and sightless eyes everywhere. Shaun’s body lies broken, a pitchfork through his middle. Something about the scene seems wrong, but I can’t push it away. “What took you so long?” his voice is frail but damning. Like a door slamming in my face. Swept away from him, the next person I see is Allie. Again, a feeling of wrongness tickles at the edges of my perception, but I can’t hold onto it.

  “If you had been a little faster …” she sighs and shakes her head, skin sloughing off. Again and again, people I only know by sight, people who were safe inside the town’s walls, look at me and speak. Struggling to turn, or stop in my tracks, or something I can’t do anything. Smoke chokes my lungs, stinging my eyes. I lose count of how many times I’ve seen the dead faces of people I’ve known my whole life.

  Then I catch fire.

  “Aaaaaaaargh!” phantom flames bite at my skin as I sit up, terrified. Panting, I struggle to my feet, checking myself all over for burns. Dizzy for a moment, I catch myself before I fall. Once I’m steady enough to look around, I realise I’m not alone here. A greenskin, with a cloth in its hand and a worried look on its face frowns at me.

  The sting on my skin is from the antiseptic. It has been looking after my wounds. I open my mouth to speak, but this orc, who’s skin is a different green to the others I’ve seen today, puts a long, clawed finger to its lips. It stands, coming to about my height. Perhaps an inch or two taller. It knowing how to make or get antiseptic is one thing, but using it on me is completely out of the blue. It has the same pointed ears and sharp teeth I’ve seen before, but I’ve never heard of an orc looking after an injured person before.

  It gestures for me to come closer. I shake my head, looking around for threats. With a soft sigh, it steps towards me and whispers in my ear.

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  “Not finished. Clean before we go.” Pulling back from it, I look down to find several scrapes still bloody from earlier. I nod, gritting my teeth against the sting to come. When it has finished, my nails dig into my palms against the pain. The bottle of liquid and the piece of cloth disappear into one of its many pouches, The pouches are on a belt around its vest and pants. It even has boots on – as nice as the pair I received today. Where it might have gotten them is a mystery.

  It points at the still form of the mad commander, several metres away from where we’re standing. Putting another finger to its lips, it gestures for me to follow. Casting fearful glances at the still form in the hopes that it remains there, I carefully follow my guide deeper into the trees.

  With something to focus on, I’m able to push the pain to the back of my mind. Soon sweat will be dripping off me, and I’ll need to focus. I realise after we’ve been walking for a while that I don’t know if the commander is dead or knocked out. And I don’t even care.

  I shudder at the memory of its fetid breath in my face as it wrapped its hand around my neck. A hand slides into mine, pulling me back to the present. My guide’s hand is callused and firm, its eyes wide as it looks deep into my eyes.

  “Are you here?” it whispers, looking just like my mum when she worries about me. A rush of warmth rushes through my core, my body reacting to her presence. It feels like safety.

  Nodding, I gesture for it to lead the way once more. It picks up the pace, although whether it is trying to outrun pursuit or just go faster I can’t tell. My chest is starting to hurt by the time it pauses, looking around. I follow its gaze. I’m no closer to knowing where we are than I was earlier. The trees and shrubs all look the same – just in slightly different positions every time we move. I was always with someone who knew where they were going when I went into the treeline outside town. How is it supposed to know where it’s going? Smell? All I can smell is dirt, and sweat. The orc isn’t sweating much at all. How does it do that? I’m dripping like a broken tap right now.

  Its movements are measured, precise, and with its hand in mine, I can see its muscles moving under the vest, and in its arm. It looks powerful, moving silently while I stumble along behind it. I’ve been suppressing my curses, but I’m sure anything following us would be lead straight to us based on how much noise I’m making. If their sense of smell is any good they’ll be able to smell me from very far away. I wonder how it’s able to smell anything else at all.

  It pulls its hand from mine, gesturing at my waterskin. “Drink.” It whispers. My hand feels empty with the absence, but my dry throat begs for water. How long has it been since I woke up? I take several sips of water, the waterskin less than half full now. I’ll need to conserve this for as long as possible. I don’t think they have water pumps out here.

  Now that my breathing has settled down, I’m able to hear the world around me a little better. I can’t hear anything other than the breeze in the leaves, and the odd bird call. At least I think they’re bird calls. Sometimes there is a brief rustle in the leaves on the ground, but other than that we’re completely alone.

  When my guide moves off again, I star where I am. After a few steps, it turns to face me. “What wrong?”

  I swallow at the tension written in every line of its form. “Where are you taking me?” I hiss.

  “Treeborn camp is near. Food and water. Safety. Will you follow?” Its eyes are huge, pleading. Gritting my teeth against the need to please this orc, I keep going.

  “What’s ‘Treeborn’? Why would it be safe there?” My heart pounds. I know nothing about anything beyond the treeline, and I’ve just learned that there are murderous orcs not very far from where I lived and worked.

  “Treeborn is family. Family safety. Food. Water.” It shrugs. The movement is uncanny, like I am talking to someone in town. Its ears twitch though I hear nothing. If Treeborn is family, food, and water, I suppose I could fill up my waterskin before I try to go back to town. At least I can ask someone else for directions. My thoughts had dragged my gaze away from its face, but when I look back up, it has taken another step towards me, eyes full of concern.

  “What?” I take a step back, confused. Why is it concerned about me?

  “Orc Queen help with mad orc. I take you.” It promises. I can hear the weight in its words.

  “Orc Queen?” I gasp, stunned at the idea that greenskins would have a ruler like a Queen. I assumed if they had anything it would be a chieftain or some kind of tribe leadership. A monarchy is different to an empire. As far as I know, anyway. The empire is too far away for the town to worry about the difference.

  “What can a Queen do?” I wonder aloud. I look up at the trees, the bare branches above holding up the greenery to the sky. Out here, it feels like nothing but the blade and the club rule.

  “Queen meet human. Learn town. You speak, tell. Trade with Queen. Queen help.” It sounds agitated, like its having trouble explaining.

  “Okay. I get it.” I hold my hands up to placate it. “That makes sense. The mad guy is back there anyway.” I giggle. “I don’t want to run into him again.”

  Smiling, I gesture for the orc to lead on. “Lead the way. It can’t be worse than going back to town, anyway.