In My Dreams

Orc's touch

The bark of a gunshot rang in the air. The sound vibrated through Clara's chest. She gasped and sprung up, awake. She clutched her throat, checked her arms, her legs, her head. The blood was gone. Her fingers fumbled through her hair. She felt something. She pulled it off. A ruby studded circlet shimmered in her hands. Then, she realized she was dressed differently. She looked down at what should have been her business attire. 

Instead of her white blouse and navy blue skirt, she was dressed in a navy blue embroidered medieval dress. She had long black sleeves with blue fabric hanging from her elbows. A sleek silver fabric lined the edges of the gown. "How is this...possible?" Clara stared in awe. She slowly returned the circlet to her hair and stood up. She wiggled her toes and saw black slippers on her feet. This dress...it reminded me of a game she used to play in college. She shook her head. Another gunshot shattered the silence. It shook through her core. 

She looked up to the sound. She was surrounded by a dark forest thickened with thistles, thorns, and vines. She tried to pull apart a branch to walk through, but her hand came away with blood. She hissed in pain. She looked up, but there was barely sunlight sifting through the branches. The gunshot sounded close. Very close. 

"H—help! Help!" she called. She spun around in the clearing, every direction blocked by dark vines reaching out for her. She winced and untangled her hair from a branch behind her. The clearing was barely three feet. 

A third gunshot suddenly rang and something flew by her side. She screamed and crouched down as best she could, her arms over her head. "Stop! Stop!"

She didn't dare open her eyes. She was terrified her last breath would be shared with a bullet. She heard the crackle of branches and grinding of gravel. She started shaking. She couldn't breathe. She waited. She felt the warmth of light on her eyelids. She didn't move. Then, she felt a hand on her shoulder. A scream escaped her throat. A hand immediately covered her mouth. Her eyes popped open. 

She nearly screamed again. An enormous, muscular green creature with large white tusks towered over her, despite balancing on his knee. His eyes glowed yellow. He had long brown hair that cascaded over both shoulders in loose braids. His hands might as well have been the size of her head. Up close, she could see every dangerous ripple of his muscles in a dark blue tunic, brown pants, and enormous black boots studded with spikes. She knew what he was. And she knew now that she wasn't in the real world. She was somewhere else. Somewhere where orcs existed. 

His hand slowly moved away, but he rose a finger to his own lips to signal that she needed to stay quiet. Clara nodded, swallowing hard. She looked up, waiting. She jolted onto her feet when she saw the orc pull a gun out from the sling on his waist. He aimed toward the sky as a freakishly oversized crow screeched and flew over the forest. His finger pulled and a shot exploded into the sky. Clara's head jittered with the sound. She winced and covered her ears, ducking back down. But it was over before it began. The oversized crow kept screeching as it fell from the sky into the deep dark forest. 

The orc nodded, satisfied, then returned his enormous shotgun back into its sling. He looked down as if he just remembered she was there and held out a large hand. Clara looked between him and his hand. She slowly and carefully put her much smaller hand in his. He pulled her lightly to her feet. 

"Bin mog g'thazag cha," he spoke, like the gurgle of a creek. His voice was as deep as the ocean and as aged as the oldest tree.

For a moment, Clara looked at him confused, her eyebrow raised. Orcish? She tried to remember her college years playing Dungeons and Dragons. Suddenly, the same voice spoke in her mind. 

I will protect you.

Clara jumped. She looked at her hand still in his and snatched it back. She looked up at the orc, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Had she...had she read his mind? No, that's completely impossible. She was going crazy. This was all crazy. She probably died. Yup, that's what happened. And now she was in a land where orcs and enormous crows existed. She was most definitely dead.

The orc interrupted her thoughts by pushing her lightly to the side of the clearing. Clara struggled to get out of his way. He crouched and pulled out a dagger the size of her arm from his boot and sliced at the thorny branches. They fell away easily. She swallowed and hiked up her skirt. She struggled to walk over the branches to follow him. He stepped over the branches in one step, but they were too large for Clara. 

She stretched her leg out as best as she could and tiptoed into a tiny open spot between the branches. She hopped onto that foot and wobbled, searching for another clearing to step onto. She yelped when she lost her balance and thorns slashed her arms, cheeks, and waist. Suddenly, a real screech left her lips when she was lifted into the air.

"What are you doing! Put me down! Ahh—!" she fell from the orc's grasp and onto his shoulders. She scrambled for the leather bands strapped across his back and wrapped her arms around his neck. She stepped up onto the bands, hooking her toes into them. He jumped over another set of branches and she yelped and lost her grasp. 

The orc growled, annoyed. He grabbed her arm before she could fall into the thorns then carried her up until she was seated properly on his left shoulder. Clara scoffed, just as annoyed to be dangled about like a toy. "You're going to drop me! If I fall into those thorns and die, I will make sure to take you down with me!" she shouted. "Where are you taking me! And where are we? What was that crow? Oh my god, are you going to eat me?"

She glared at him when he spotted him rolling his eyes. She balled her fists then remembered the last time their skin touched. She reached out and put the tips of her fingers on his sharp green cheek. He froze, his dagger midair in front of brambles. 

I don't eat witches. Disgusting.  

"Witches? There are no witches here," she frowned. He turned to her and rose a thick eyebrow. He rolled his eyes again and turned back to the branches. He hacked away with his right arm. 

Must have suffered a great fall. Lost memory. 

"Please...where are we? Where are we going?" she started to feel sick. 

Blackthorn Forest. Must go home before werewolves come out. Moon coming. Blood will spill.

"W—werewolves? Y—you can't be serious. Werewolves don't—don't...exist."

In Xakar Kingdom, do exist. Tourist witch.

He sounded like he spat the last part, annoyed. Clara scowled and shot back, "There's no excuse for that attitude, uh—sir!"

Rok.

"Rock? Are you kidding me? Your name is Rock?"

He growled, his sharp teeth bared, his yellow eyes boring into her dark green eyes. He stopped walking for a moment. He poured over her frame for a moment and it took Clara by surprise. She froze under his curious gaze. 

Rok. 

He enunciated it slowly, his voice was a rumbling earthquake in her mind. R-uck. Clara cleared her throat and nodded, growing uncomfortable under his close gaze. "R—right, Rok. N—nice to meet you. My name is Clara."

Clara. Pretty. 

"Do you flatter all your strays this way?"

His chest shook with deep, rolling laughs, his tusks glinting in the waning sunlight. Clara pulled back her hand and folded them together in her lap. She shouldn't help a smile pulling at her own lips.