Which means she took my growing seed with her—my son. And I still have no idea what my mate chose to do with my child. In fact, I may never know.
I’ve volunteered these last six months, hunting nonstop, pausing to eat and rest and then going back out. This schedule seems unsustainable, a shift no one else in their right mind would take on. But for me, it works. It also allows others to take a break from this difficult chore. The other hunters don’t mind my temporary deep dive into orc hunting.
The elders say I’ll stop soon with this self-inflicted isolation, but I see no end in sight.
I like the quiet and the solitude.
Reconnecting with my ancestral instincts, scenting the wind and finding the trail of a variety of wild animals. I hunt using ancient orc weapons and techniques passed down for ages. Traps are made from leaves, branches, and holes I dig with my own hands or whatever is available in the forest. I wash and drink in rivers and rest in front of a fire I made. I enjoy wading into rivers and capturing fish. I also took down a moose recently with my own hands. This is the most honorable way. I bring all I caught back, and it is all eaten and used, completing the circle of life. I’ve been in the back country for three days straight and this time I’m ready for my bed and a shower.
I pause and drop off the large moose carcass and the rack of fish in the walk-in freezer of the lodge. I’ve already done most of the dirty work and I leave the rest for the team to butcher the next morning. I wash up some at the basin and then march back out into the quiet dark. All the lights and fires are out.
The depression returns and hits hard as I make my way to my cabin in the farthest corner of the commune. My mind was focused on the hunt and survival instincts, but now the memories come flooding back. Because I’m about to return to an empty cabin with an empty nursery, even though I’m a male who impregnated his Bride.
I have a son out there, hopefully.
And a Bride who wants nothing to do with me. I don’t even know if she went through with the pregnancy. This is her right. But this doesn’t mean the thought of her choosing to not carry my son and moving on with her life hurts any less. Also, she might’ve indeed chosen to carry and give birth to my son and is out there, somewhere in the greater human world, raising my orc son alone. A son who needs his father in close proximity to thrive.
Both scenarios are torturous and never leave my thoughts.
I met my female, whose name I do not even know, when I left the commune for the wider human world in Maine, for the first time at thirty years old. Prior to that the farthest I’d gone was monthly grocery runs to the nearest town. This time I went to Bangor, alone.
I'm the wildest-looking orc on the commune. Taller than the average orc, my horns sharper, and my tusks longer. I’ve been told by humans that my features are “scary.” If I move an arm to point at something on a shelf, humans squeal and move out of the way, assuming I’m about to hit them. It is nonsensical. Therefore, I normally choose to stay amongst my kind, beginning to believe that I’d never have a Bride of my own or have offspring because simply going to the grocery store in town causes humans to scream and run away in fear. The other Brides I live amongst, who are mated to other males in the commune and who happily choose to stay with their mate and children, avoid me too with fear in their eyes. Only me.
I couldn’t envision a modern human woman wanting to live with a monstrous-looking wild orc on the edge of the wild zone. Every wilder in my tribe is either unmated or a single father. It is a sad situation. Many regular orcs live on the commune with a human Bride who lives at their hearth, feeds them home-cooked meals by hand and loves their sons.
I am jealous.
Many modern orcs, like my cousin Alden, have migrated and now live amongst the humans in their communities. Alden Overlook is an example of a wild orc who taught himself over time to act modern and eventually he found a female who accepted him. She lived next door to him, and she didn't have to leave and come to the commune to stay with him.
But I cannot leave the commune and try to live amongst humans, not only because they will scream in fear, but because I am the eldest son of the leader. It is my responsibility to stay and eventually take on his role.
A year ago, I went on a business trip by myself, trying to be mindful of my effect on humans. I was supposed to go with Rogan, but my father’s Bride fell and broke her ankle, and he needed to drive his mate down the hill for medical care. I wanted to stay or reschedule but my father sent me alone because he called the negotiations “low risk.” And it’s always better to go out amongst humans alone or in groups of two. Anything else can ignite a mob.
I drove a truck past the towns I knew and onto freeways and to Bangor.
For the first time ever, I was taking an overnight trip out in the human world. I ended up at a place called a hotel. There were the requisite gasps of fear when I stepped out of the truck. Screams echoed from small children and senior citizens when I walked into the lobby. I tried to ignore these humans and made sure I offered a smile and tried to appear non-threatening. I simply checked in and asked for the key and paid. Luckily, they knew an orc was checking in and this was an orc-friendly establishment.
I went to the meeting that same day in a tall building. It went well. I negotiated favorable terms for the continued boundaries of the land of our commune. I am an expert in orc law, and even though I look wild I am highly articulate in both ancient orc and human speak; this is why I was sent.
That evening I walked past a place called a bar.
I'd heard of these establishments but had never been inside one. A pint of ale sounded wonderful before hitting my bed. Tomorrow I would return to the commune. I made a fateful detour into that quiet, half-empty hotel bar, hoping to find a pint of orc ale. And immediately found a lone human female seated nearby.
She was simply the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. Long, thick brown hair. Sparkling blue eyes. A slender, curvy figure, but not too delicate. She wore a black dress and fancy shoes. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her.
I’d met many human females over the years and none of them affected me the way this female did. A few young unmated female lawyers had worked alongside me at the meeting with the government and again, nothing but professional discourse.
I was drawn to this female’s scent and the sound of her voice. I should have run back to my room immediately the moment I realized I was reacting abnormally to this particular female. But the moment I inhaled her scent I was already too far gone. The scent doesn't lie.
I have heard it told that a male can have more than one female match in his life, but it has never been documented that there is more than one at the same time. A male latches on to one female until her death or if she has chosen to leave for so long that eventually over many years her scent fades from that male's body, from his mind and from his senses to the point where it leaves room for another to replace it.
I sat down next to her and expected to hear the requisite human scream. Maybe she'd get up and move away. I began to entertain ancient thoughts of kidnapping and carrying her away by her hair. I could throw her in my truck and take her to my cabin in my commune and fill her with my sons. And in time, after I pleasured her so often, she’d realize that she wanted to stay. I was amazed at how quickly these ridiculous, primitive thoughts entered my mind. But none of my chase receptors clicked and had to be pushed away, because luckily it was not the dark of winter and I could remain sane.
She moved closer and gazed at me with heat, her arousal thick in the air between us.