Page 132 of The Orc Outcast's Mate

“You have time,” the seer said as if reading her mind and, as unsettling as that was, Miranda couldn’t help but feel soothed by his assurance. “I’m not going to be leaving Rove anytime soon. Unless that fool of a warlord does something incredibly daft.”

“What do you mean?”

But the seer didn’t answer, instead he pointed off into the dark forest. “Go that way.”

“What?”

“Go that way and sit on a log.”

“Go and . . . why?”

“You want to spark your healing. That’s what you need to do. But mind, it’s going to hurt.”

“Hurt? Will I be injured?” Miranda’s stomach twisted up.

“That I cannot see. I cannot say what exactly will happen. I only know that something will. Something… initiating.”

“Initiating.” She said slowly.

“Yes. It would be much easier to take it slow and soothe naturally, but if you’re insistent about pushing on, then…”

She gripped her hands. She didn’t have time for this to go the natural way. She needed to dredge now. Her babies were somewhere in this world and she needed to find them. Before it was too late.

“So, I just sit and wait... over there?” She pointed to her right.

The seer snorted. “Ah, nothing like those sweeping gestures I cannot see.” Miranda dropped her hand even as the seer raised his. “That way. Go. You don’t have a lot of time.”

She took a deep breath and nodded, “Thank you, seer.”

“I’ll see you again.”

Her heart thundered at the confirmation. They would have another chance. She just had to put in the work first. That was fine. She’d done this work before. Her whole childhood was spent in and out of therapy appointments.

She said a quiet goodbye to the seer and turned away from the light of the glowing spring, turned her back on the comfort and security to face the pitch black of the woods.

Miranda took her steps carefully. Frost crunched under her feet, but the damp leaves cushioned her stride. She could hardly see anything. Wet, chilly foliage kept brushing at her hands and cheeks. Her hair caught in a bramble once and yanked hard as she moved away.

Finally, she came upon a downed tree and sat atop it. The icy chill of the log soaked through her clothes, but at least she didn’t get wet. The cloak Govek gave her was pretty well waterproof.

She hoped this was the right log. She didn’t see any others nearby but…

She wondered if Govek would come for her soon. The dark was churning around in her like a stalking predator. She would have loved to lean into Govek, let him drown out the fear.

“It is not his responsibility... It is you who must put the work into healing.”

The seer was right. She had to do this to move forward. She couldn’t lean on Govek at every turn.

And he had his own demons to battle. He was battling one right now. Speaking with his father in a hall full of orcs who thought the worst of him.

They thought he tortured animals.

Someone, perhaps many, had lied to make Govek look like a monster.

How many other lies were discoloring Govek’s reputation? How many other lies were forcing him to be an outcast?

And who had started them?

She waited. Brooding. In the quiet. In the dark. The rustling of leaves and the cracking of branches and the swirling terrors of her mind all made her flinch.

Feet pounded up right next to her so fast she couldn’t even flinch.

Something wet and sticky splatted on her face and mouth.

Miranda yelped and staggered to her feet. Some of the liquid got on her tongue. It was pungent and bitter. She swiped it off, lost her footing, and tripped backward over the log.

Her head spun, her throat closed, and her body quaked.

She was no longer in the woods.

To Be Continued . . .