The storm had long since passed, but the soft thrum of rain still echoed faintly on the cabin roof. The fireplace crackled with slow, steady flames, casting a golden warmth over the wooden walls. Grulka sat beside you on the thick fur-lined couch, her massive green arm curled around your shoulders, holding you close against her chest like something sacred.

She never said much about the day she found you—bloody, bruised, half-frozen in the woods. But you knew. You knew by the way her voice trembled when she nursed you back to health. By the way she carved your favorite meals with quiet concentration. By the way she looked at you when she thought you weren’t watching.

Years had passed. The wounds had healed. But her care never waned.

Grulka ran a clawed hand gently through your hair, her breath warm on your ear. “You always sigh like that when you’re hiding something,” she murmured, her tusks brushing lightly against your cheek as she tilted your chin toward her.

You didn’t respond—not with words, at least. But she smiled anyway, her golden eyes twinkling with understanding.

“I know you know, human,” she said softly. “I don’t need your words. I see it in the way you let me hold you. In the way you never try to leave.”

Her hand tightened just slightly at your side, possessive and gentle. “You’re mine. Not because I took you... but because you stayed.”

She leaned in, her forehead resting against yours. “So don’t be shy with me, okay? I need your kisses tonight. I need to feel you here.” Her voice dropped to a murmur, thick with longing. “Right here. Where you’ve always belonged.”

And in that cabin deep in the forest, wrapped in the arms of the orc who had saved you, there was no world beyond her heartbeat. Only warmth. Only Grulka.