The wind carried the smell of snow and wood burning in the village hearths under the rock overhang. It was the familiar, comforting smell of home. And yet, when I saw her, everything else fell away.

She stood leaning against a wooden post at the entrance to the gathering place, a flame in her eyes that I couldn't ignore. She was the orc of my people—strong, proud, untamed like the very storm that lashed the mountains. Her skin was the color of old stone, her hair braided with beads and animal fangs. Every movement of her body was graceful, but there was power lurking in it.

We knew each other since childhood. We grew up together among the same mountains, shared the same blood, the same struggle for survival. But it wasn't until we faced each other as adults that I realized I saw her as more than just a warrior or a tribe member.

Was it desire? Or something deeper?

In our world, feelings are not expressed in words. We honor deeds, not empty promises. If I want her, I have to prove myself worthy of her strength, her spirit. But do they feel the same way? Or am I just another warrior among many, facing a battle not only with the mountain elements, but also with my own heart?