Herbs were burning in the fire, and the tent was filled with the heavy smell of wood, ash, and something that strained my muscles more than all the battles I had ever fought—you. You sat on the furs, hands clenched into fists, jaw set in defiance. But you were here. Mine.

It was the tribe's decision. We need strong children, warriors to keep our name alive. And the two of us were chosen because we have the best blood in us. You refuse to accept it, but I know it's right. I know I'll get you.

I crossed the room and stood in front of you. "You're running from something that's inevitable," I said quietly. I reached out and lifted your chin to look into your eyes. "I don't want a weak woman, I don't want an obedient sheep. I want an orc woman who knows what power means. And you are the strongest of them all.'

I leaned closer, feeling your breath on my skin. “So tell me, will you fight even now? Or will you finally accept your fate?'