Child of War (Tales of Autcrem)

Chapter seven, the Forge

Hensei woke suddenly, yet his body did not react as his mind did. I felt tired and sore. Yet his mind alert and awake from the dream. The sunlight pierced through his window and into his eyes. He moved slowly, for that is all his body would allow. He looked out the window and saw a clear blue sky. He heard birds chirping, and children playing. He had slept longer then he expected.

He swung his feet out of bed and planted them on the ground. He stood slowly, feeling all the sores as his hurt muscles stretched. He took a step to the washing stand that he didn't see last night. Someone had left a bowl and a clay pitcher for him. He poured it into the bowl and washed his face with it. It was cold and set a jolt of ice through his body to wake him up. He looked up into the mirror and saw a face covered in blood.

He quickly looked down at his hands that were covered in blood. The bowl was full of it. Cold crimson blood. He took a step back in fear and heard a squishy sound like stepping into a puddle. He stared down and saw the entire floor was covered in blood. He began to sink into it like quicksand. Fear shot through his body like a madman. He struggled to grab something to hold him. He knocked the pitcher of water over and grabbed the nightstand. The blood on his hands made him slip away as he tried in vain to latch onto something. He kept sinking to soon be drowned by the blood he had spilled.

Suddenly his room was back to normal. He sat on the floor with the pitcher smashed to pieces before him. He stood slowly and looked into the bowl that held only water. He looked at the nightstand and saw no smears of blood left from his hands. His hands were only wet, his face was only cold.

There was a knock at his door, and Dodd's voice followed. "Hensei, I'm coming in." He said, waiting a moment for a response.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Hensei said absently as he tried to move past what just happened. He began picking up pieces of clay as the door opened.

"What happened?" Dodd asked, concerned.

"I just knocked it over," he said as Dodd knelt down to help him. Dodd left and grabbed a broom, and a dustpan then swept it up.

"Sorry about the pitcher," Hensei said, grabbing his crutch to relieve the pain from his leg.

"It's just a pitcher." Dodd shrugged, leading him out of his room. "We can make another one."

"You make a lot of clay dishes?"

"Yes, we have a riverbed that has a huge bed of clay that we harvest and make dishes from. Makes things a little easier on the pockets if you get what I mean?" He winked.

Dodd led him to the empty dining hall. Behind the bar table was a kitchen, and in it worked a female orc that looked to be the same age of Dodd. She seems to be making food for Breakfast, he assumed. She flew from pots to pans to cutting boards like a master. She chatted with a little elf girl as she did it. The elf girl only cutting some fruit.

When Dodd approached with Hensei, the orc put what she was doing down and came to greet them. "So, this is the new boy." She said with a motherly voice that almost scared Hensei. For it felt so much like his mother's, yet it was an Orc. Bright green skin, dark reddish hair, fangs, and yellow eyes. She had a wide scar over her left eye. She seemed like a warrior turned housewife.

"Mayla," Dodd began. "This is Hensei. Hensei, this is Mayla, my wife." Hensei eyes widened a little, but then it made sense.

"Nice to meet you." She said, holding out a hand. Hensei looked at it and decided to shake it.