Chapter 4

We marched until the forest thinned, the trees shrinking away little by little until the woods just… gave up. Grasslands took over - wide, open, and way too bright. My mind was so dull from trying to ignore the constant pain in my… everything, that I didn’t even realize the sun was out in full **** until it started cooking me alive beneath the rancid meat on my back.

Still, I kept going. Mostly because stopping sounded like it would hurt even more. The woman kept her steady pace ahead of me, and every minute she seemed a little farther away, like I was walking through molasses while she glided over the earth.

By the time I finally noticed the settlement ahead of us, the sun was straight overhead. My brain didn’t fully register what I was looking at until we were maybe a few hundred feet out.

A tall wooden palisade surrounded the place - sharpened logs jammed together, rough but solid. Inside, I spotted clusters of squat, wooden buildings, none taller than two stories. The gates stood wide open, and people moved through them freely. Most of them were tall and green-skinned like the woman. Orcs, maybe? Or something close enough that my brain filed them under the same tab.

She slowed as we neared the gate, which was the only reason I managed to catch up. My feet barely lifted off the ground as I stumbled forward, every step a negotiation with gravity. Two enormous green-skinned men stood guard in tough-looking leather armor. They didn’t stop us, but the way they looked at me… they were just looking for an excuse for ****.

Inside, the town wasn’t huge - maybe fifty buildings total, all jammed into the palisade. But it felt busy. Alive. Crude stalls lined the streets between the structures, selling everything from furs to weapons to jewelry to cuts of roasting meat. The smell alone made my stomach twist and growl. I hadn’t eaten all day, and the reminder hit me like a punch.

The woman came to a stop in front of a larger building near the center of town. Two more guards stood outside it - these ones wearing crude metal armor - and she pulled the smaller carcass off my back like it weighed as much as a pillow. My spine immediately weep in gratitude.

“Wait there,” she said, pointing across the street.

Before I could blink, one of the guards opened the door for her. She vanished inside, leaving me alone with the two armored giants, who stared at me like I was a small, yapping dog about to get kicked.

I sighed, crossed the street, and slumped down onto the packed dirt. The building behind me was blessedly solid, and leaning against it gave me something real to hold myself up with. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, breathed deep, and tried not to focus on the thousand different ways my body ached.

When I finally **** my eyes open again, I took in the town around me. And honestly? It was surprisingly… normal. Kids in leather vests and short pants chased each other between stalls. Adults in leather, sleeveless shirts and longer pants haggled over goods. A woman barked at a vendor about the price of a pelt. The whole place felt like a bustling flea market. If you ignored the tusks. And the green skin. And the fact that the people walking by were definitely not human at all.

Among the tall, green-skinned people there were smaller, gray-skinned folk with pointed ears who wore few clothes. A few people with bluish scales - almost lizard-like in appearance - in dresses, or maybe long shirts, laughed and spoke loudly in a language I couldn’t place as they passed. And then a pair of towering men in loin cloths - easily ten feet tall - walked past like they were just out for a casual afternoon stroll.

I watched it all, exhausted, hurting, and completely out of place… I would have been fascinated if I wasn’t worried about what would come next.

* * *

I sat there for what felt like an hour, staring at the flow of people drifting past. Most gave me a wide berth, noses wrinkling as if I were the source of some particularly offensive sewer leak. Honestly, I was. I stank. I was disgusting. I wanted to be out of smell range of myself, but unfortunately that wasn’t an option.

A few shot me looks of pure disgust - like I was a pile of dog shit someone had neglected to scrape off the street.

I thought about checking on the woman, but the dull ache that had settled into my bones flared every time I so much as breathed. That, and the two guards across the street who could probably tear me in half like a paper towel. Honestly, the guards were the least of the reasons to stay put.

So I sat there, zoning out, until a shriek of profanity sliced through the air.

“Let go of me, you limp-dicked cum rag!”

People actually looked for that one. Just long enough to identify the source, then turned right back to their business the moment they realized what it was.

A man in embossed leather armor, the first human I’d seen, shoved a small gray-skinned girl against a wall. A curved blade hung at his hip, heavy and dark, like it had been forged for intimidation as much as killing. Images of wolves decorated his breastplate.

She kept going, undeterred. “Touch me again, you impotent cock gargler, and I’ll tear your tiny dick off!”

No one reacted. No one even flinched. The crowd flowed around them like water around a rock, refusing to acknowledge what was happening.

I pushed myself upright, my back crackling in protest, and finally got a good look. The girl - or maybe woman - couldn’t have been more than four-foot-something. Petite, filthy, hair a wild mess. Her shirt hung off her in tatters, barely covering anything; everything below that was exposed: dirty skin, bruises in various stages of healing. Her wrists were bound tight with leather cord. Through the curtain of hair, I saw just enough of her face to catch the swollen eye and split lip.

Five men total. All humans. All armored. All armed. Two grinned like they were enjoying the show; the other two looked like they were waiting for something more interesting to happen.

A hot, dizzy anger burned in my gut. How the hell was no one stopping this? I didn’t want to watch it. I didn’t want her to endure it. Someone needed to step in. But every instinct I had screamed at me to stay quiet, stay small, stay safe. These men had swords. They had muscles. They had numbers. And I had… the physique of an overweight fifty year old with a desk job and who never went to the gym.

I glanced at the guards by the door. They watched with the kind of mild amusement people had while watching a drunk try to fight a mailbox. One of them met my eyes and raised an eyebrow. A warning? A dare? I had no idea. But he sure as hell wasn’t moving to help. He was literally in armor. With a weapon. And a partner. And all he did was smirk and turn back to enjoy the scene.

“Shut it, meat,” the big one snarled. He grabbed her by the front of her shirt. It tore with a loud rip, exposing even more of her bruised skin. “I can’t wait to get rid of you.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” she shot back, baring bloody teeth. “You inbred cock sock. You wouldn’t know what to do with a woman if your mother gave you step-by-step instructions. The only thing you’ll ever breed is disappointment.”

The man’s expression flickered - offended, embarrassed, enraged - and then his hand lashed out.

The smack was loud, brutal. Her head snapped sideways. Blood sprayed from her freshly split lip.

“Hey!” I yelled, my mouth firing off before my brain could slap a hand over it. I took a step forward, hot anger pushing me on sheer instinct… right up until five pairs of eyes swung toward me.

Fuck.

Quite possibly the worst decision of my life - and considering the last twenty-four hours, that was saying something. But what was I supposed to do? Pretend I hadn’t seen it?

“Let the girl go,” I said, trying to summon some kind of courage, some hint of authority. What I produced was… not that.

“Lookit this, boys!” the big one crowed. “A meatbag who thinks he kin tell me what tado!”

The other four laughed, a low, ugly sound that promised ****. “No one asked you, meatbag.” He said the word like it was a rat turd floating in his stew. “Fuck off.”

He turned his back on me, though the other four kept staring, hungry. I glanced at the guards across the street. They grinned like they were waiting for the opening bell of a prizefight.

I took a step back without meaning to. Several bystanders vacated the area, clearly wanting plausible deniability when the body hit the ground.

The big man yanked the girl upright. Her struggles were weaker now, but she still fought, brittle but defiant.

I closed my eyes, inhaled, exhaled, trying to find some scrap of mettle inside me.

“I said let the girl go.” It came out thin and fragile, like wet paper. I opened my eyes and tried again. “I said let the girl go.” A little better, though not exactly commanding.

He shoved the girl back to the dirt and marched toward me. Six heavy steps and his fingers were around my throat, lifting me clean off the ground.

“Yer a long way from home, meat. A real long way. Bet no one’d miss ya if ya went missin’.”

His grip tightened. My hands scrabbled uselessly at his wrist. “A purdy littl’ thing like you’d fetch a few coins on the block.” He leaned in and sniffed, then recoiled with a curse and flung me aside like garbage.

I hit the ground hard, my shoulder taking the full impact. Something popped. Before I could even suck in a breath, his boot slammed into my ribs. Air blasted out of me. He spun away, barking, “Fuck, you stink! You live in a shit house, meat? If you got any on me…”

The girl tried to run, but one of the others grabbed her, locking an arm around her throat. She kicked and clawed, but it was like watching a fly in a spiderweb.

I rolled onto my side, wheezing, forcing air into my lungs. I somehow managed to get upright, sort of. My balance wobbled, vision tilting.

“We’re not done,” I rasped. “I said… let the girl go.” I coughed, and pain exploded in my ribs. Note to self: no more coughing.

The other four stopped laughing. Their expressions sharpened, deadly. The big one turned back toward me slowly.

“What did ya say, meat?”

I didn’t look away. Couldn’t. My mouth was driving now; my brain was tied up screaming.

“I said,” I **** out, “let the girl go. Or are you deaf as well as stupid?”

In for a penny. I was a dead man anyway. Maybe I’d get a martyr plaque. More likely I’d be a cautionary tale whispered to children.

He stalked back toward me, radiating such hostility my legs forgot how to function. He leaned in close, his breath hot and rancid, filling my nose and coating my tongue like spoiled milk.

“What. Did. Ya. Say. Meat?” Barely a whisper. Somehow more terrifying than a roar.

I raised my voice like a child making a point, “I SAID ARE YOU DEA—”

His fist hit my face before the last syllable cleared my teeth.

The world flipped. I landed on my back, clutching my nose. Blood poured through my fingers. Before I could think, his boot caught my ribs again. This time I heard snapping - actual snapping. Not a metaphor.

I curled in on myself, arms over my head. I remembered reading somewhere that it helped protect vital organs. Hopefully the article wasn’t bullshit.

A boot came down on my knee; something cracked. Then a blow slammed into my skull, bouncing my head off the ground and knocking my arms away. My ears rang. My vision shrank. Another hit hammered my chest and for a terrifying second I was sure my heart stopped.

The world dimmed. Everything narrowed, drowning in red as blood flowed into my eyes.

The last thing I heard was a strained voice, tight with fury. “Let. Him. Go.”