Chapter 3: Reflections and Resolve

I wake slowly, the dim light of dusk filtering through the trees. The forest is alive with the sound of birds chirping, a stark contrast to the chaos in my mind. The air is cool, carrying the earthy scent of moss and pine. I groan, shifting my stiff limbs, and gradually become aware of my surroundings. I'm next to a small clearing, surrounded by dense underbrush and towering trees. Nearby, I hear the gentle murmur of a river. The scent of the water stirs memories from my past.

I remember my family using this river to travel to a nearby village after getting lost on a hunt for a spy to the Spider Queen. The memory is bittersweet, reminding me of the cruel ties that bind me. But now, how did I end up here? The last thing I remember is putting a tattered bandage on my head.

With a gasp, I recall my head injury. My fingers brush against the makeshift bandage, feeling the dry, crusted blood beneath. The pain is dull now, a background throb rather than a sharp sting. Slowly, I push myself up, out from under the brush, my body protesting every movement. I stumble toward the river, my steps unsteady from my wild tantrum through the forest.

Dropping to my knees by the water's edge, I lean over to see my reflection. Long, silvery white strands of hair frame my face, a thick braid running down my back and resting on my shoulder. One shoulder bears the hood of my messy dark cloak. My piercing violet eyes, strained and red as if I had been crying, stare back at me. I see the bandage and carefully loosen the knot, pulling it away to reveal the deep gash running from my forehead to my cheek. The cut is no longer bleeding; the blood is dry, and the healing process has begun.

All I can think of is the hate I feel toward my family. My fingers trace the scar as I sit in my anger. A few tears well up and fall into the river, creating ripples that distort my reflection. It reminds me of the this new anger.

"Knowing my family, they'll be hunting me," I mutter. "I must keep going before I can worry about revenge." I look upriver to ensure no one is around. Carefully, I clean the bandage in the river and tie it back over my wound. "I will get my revenge, even if it's with my last breath."

Determined, I stand up and start walking downstream toward the village. I have to reach the village where I might safely heal and rest, and perhaps get some help. After two hours of stumbling through the forest, I finally reach the edge of a small human village called Alderholt.

The village is quaint, with cobblestone streets and thatched-roof cottages. Lanterns flicker in the growing twilight, casting warm glows on the faces of villagers finishing their day's work. Whispering to myself, I note, "I cannot stay too long. One day maximum." I pull the hood of my cloak over my head, half covering my face, and walk into the village. Villagers pass by, minding their own business but giving me sidelong glances, seeing I don't quite fit in.

Looking around, I see the tavern, The Wounded Stag, a small weapons forge named Ironheart Smithy, a healing shop named Annie's Herbs and Spices, and a goods shop called The Traveler's Respite. I head to Annie's Healing Herbs and Spices, the smell of ground plants and spices filling the air as I enter.

A woman behind the desk greets me, "Hi, I'm Annie. You're not from around here, are ya? Oh! Your head! Are you okay?"

Before I can reply, Annie continues, "Are you looking for something to help that head wound?" I nod.

Annie fetches a powder from a back shelf. "This will help heal that wound. Just pour it onto your wound. It'll burn, though. That'll be one silver piece or something equivalent."

I feel for my small purse strapped to my trousers. I open it, pouring out the few coins I have. Three silver coins fall into my hand. I give one to Annie in exchange for the powder and put the remaining two coins away.

"Where can I get a room for the night?" I ask.

"The tavern across the street has a couple of rooms available," Annie replies.

I thank her and walk to The Wounded Stag. The barkeep welcomes me and asks if I want a drink. I ask, "How much for a room?"

"One silver piece," the barkeep replies. I hesitate but hand over another silver piece. "Thanks, your room is down the hall on the right."

I quickly head to the room and examine the small room. It is furnished with nothing but a bed, sheep's wool blankets, and a small chest for my belongings. I let my cloak fall to the floor, remove my boots, and examine the powder. I take off the bandage and apply the powder to my cut. The damp cut stings with the powder, and I wince in pain. Locking the door, I lay down on the bed, pulling the blanket over me. Exhausted, I fall asleep almost instantly.

Morning comes with the sounds of screams, metal clashing, and hooves beating across the ground. I jump out of bed in a hurry. "Shit, what's going on?!" I exclaim, hoping it isn't my parents securing me as a traitor. I hurriedly don my cloak and boots, then peer out the door and down the hall. The tavern is empty. I creep to the main hall and peer out a window.

Large green figures are fighting the villagers. Human bodies lay scattered, slaughtered and bloody. Focusing on the green figures, I realize they are orcs. An orcish tribe is attacking the village. "Oh fuck," I exclaim.

I count roughly 15 orcish warriors bearing war paint, some on horses. I duck under the window, trying to figure out an escape plan. The wood line isn't far if I can get to the back of the tavern. I open a side window in the hall carefully, making as little noise as possible, and hop out into the alleyway between buildings.

I stop, frozen in fear, when I see an orc standing in my way. He is tall, muscular, and imposing, with piercing yellow eyes that are surprisingly soft. Long black hair with a warrior's braid and intricate tattoos cover his chest and back, symbolizing his success in battle. In his tattoos I can see his name woven into his back, it reads "Grommash Bloodfang", Above it his tattoo reads "Blackrock Clan". He has two young village children in his arms. He hasn't seen me yet.

He lets the children down and opens a crawlspace under the tavern. "You'll be safe in there. Just hide," he tells them.

As the orc turns back to the battle, he sees me and freezes. "Oh... fuck me!"

I turn and run around the front of the tavern and to the other side, my smaller size giving me a speed advantage. I quickly find the crawlspace, open it, and crawl in, hoping to slow down my pursuer. I crawl towards the children, almost as if to defend them. The orc peers into the crawlspace and gestures for me to stay, putting a finger to his lips for silence. He closes the crawlspace door to hide it better.

Confused, I try to understand why the orc had spared me and the children. The children hug me tightly, not letting go, as if I were their protection. I await the battle's end, ready to escape once more.