Javad leaned over to see better. His rescuer was a young she-orc. A young human peasant like him wasn’t an expert on orcish age, but she was about his size. She had skin like unpolished copper and thick, curly chestnut hair. But that wasn’t what stuck out to him most. He was in shock and bleeding from the chest, she nodded towards him with a bright smile. It was infectious. He might have smiled back himself, if he wasn’t in pain. She stepped towards him, tugging on his shirt and speaking words he didn’t understand. She gestured towards the cut on his chest earnestly.

He figured out what she was trying to say and removed his shirt. The cut was long but shallow. The young she-orc wrapped the cut in his shirt. The events of the day and his long journey were beginning to catch up to him. His legs begin to quiver. 

Javad tried to ask her what she said to him. She shook her head and said something to the big fellow. He looked annoyed at whatever she’d said.

After a long tirade from her, the tall orc leaned against a nearby, stunted tree. “I speak some Qis’ Mat words,” said the orc finally. “My sister demanded to know what you say.”

“Why’d you try to kill me? And why’d you stop?”

“We promised peace. But it is our right to slay humans in our lands. You’ll grow larger. Just another enemy to fight. For the next war will come. Shora stopped me. Said I wouldn’t hear the end of her shrieking.

“Uh, so why’d she stop you?”

The orc spoke more sharp-sounding words to her. She answered back even sharper. 

“Shora said it was unfair. You are small. And have no weapon.” The she-orc looked towards Javad and hit him with a string of words.

“Why’d you come here? Why are you bruised? Were you driven away by your people?” Her brother translated.

As simply as he could explain it, Javad told the large fellow about his argument with the other boys in his village. He told about his boasts to them. To become a warrior capable of bringing down all the dangers of the frontier. He left out the part about defeating orcs.

The brother growled. “Like orc. Right to slice you.” He spoke Javad’s story to Shora.

She berated him. And he growled back, but more subdued. “She says not fair fight.” He leveled a finger towards her, as if a command.

She chattered at Javad. Whatever it was, she was enthusiastic about it. 

The brother grinned. An unsettling expression as his bright white tusks and fangs contrasted with his dark skin. “She will fight you.”

Shora raised her fists in the universal symbol of a fight. Javad looked at each of them. The brother seemed quite willing to see the fight happen, and Shora didn’t seem like the type to back down. His instincts told him that refusing to fight would be a mistake. Javad had been lectured by his parents many times for being something called a “shit-disturber”. He knew the best way to end a fight was to launch into it before his opponent expected it.

Javad kicked off the log he’d been sitting on, lunging in low with the heaviest punch he could muster. True to plan, Shora wasn’t expecting him to come at her so quickly. She was struck below the ribs. He’d knocked the wind from many boys with a blow like this. She hissed in pain, jumping back in surprise. Javad had never struck anyone so sturdy. His hand stung from impacting her dense muscles. The difference in the village toughs and this she-orc was something he’d never experienced. 

But he had the momentum and pressed his advantage. He was weary from his journey and blood loss, but he’d been outmatched many times before and won by unrelenting aggression. His advantage of surprise was gone. Shora avoided any further blows that could do damage. He panted desperately as his blows deflected off her forearms or were slapped away.

Exhaustion finally ended his futile barrage. He tensed up for the inevitable counterattack. Her forceful grip clenched his brown hair. He wouldn’t be able to avoid her retaliation. He closed his eyes and waited. With such a grip, her blow would knock him to the ground.

Her knuckle tapped him on the cheek lightly. She ran her hand through his curly hair and spoke to her brother again. The big orc scowled. “She was impressed by you. And forgot to fight back. Shora never wanted to fight you. I wanted it.” 

She barked a question to her brother, who was sulking, seeing the fight not end in violence to the boy. He didn’t answer, so she barked the same words at him a little louder.

He growled wearily at her. “Why did you really come? You are a young fool. But you wouldn’t beat an orc. You know this.”

“I knew. I talked big to the other boys of my village. But I’d never even met one of you. I was curious. And I had nothing to lose. My family wouldn’t even care if I died out here. How can someone so unimportant ever matter? I refuse to accept my meaningless life as the youngest child.”

The brother listened in silence for a moment, then laughed, shaking his head. He translated Javad’s frustrations to Shora. She stared at him for a moment and ruffled his curly hair again. 

She spoke to her brother, and he shook his head adamantly. She said the same phrases again, insistently prodding his muscular leg with her fist.

”My young sister says…” He growled. “She would miss you. And your fluffy hair.” The scowling orc seemed offended at his own tongue as he says the words. “She wants you to live. Return home.” He growls again. “Visit again.”

His sister barked another phrase at her reluctant interpreter.

”She wants to fight with you. For fun and to learn.”

Javad kept his eyes on her brother. “And what do you think of this?”

”You flooded our land with great numbers. Destroyed all we had. Drove us into the mountain. We ate mushrooms for years! There will be more war. But. Maybe my unwise sister can learn something from you. Some weakness your kind possess. Or maybe she kills you by mistake. She is growing quickly. You won’t keep up. She can fight with you if she likes. No orc youth around here. Shora is not like me. She wants to talk to others.”

 “I’ll do it.” Javad lowered his head to the she-orc in agreement with her offer. “Worst that happens is I die. If I can match her, I’ll be the strongest of warriors.”

Shora barked excitedly at her brother.

The brother nodded in agreement with her for once. “Teach her your Qis Mat words. I learned over time, from prisoners. I’m not a good teacher. She says I’m too gruff.”

“What prisoners?”

“It was a war. Most invading our mountain died. Some were taken. I spoke to them.”

That war was too far in the past for Javad to worry about it too much. He reached out his hand out to Shora. “I accept. I’ll return.”

She swatted his palm away with the back of her fist. Her brother spoke to her. Saying he’d agreed. Shora reached out her hand. Her brother must have told her what a handshake was. But there was something of the ruffian in Javad; he swatted away her hand as she’d done to him. He smirked at her surprise and extended his hand again. She tilted her head at him, as if deciding what to do. Her hand zipped out much faster the second time, seizing his hand in her firm grip, and they shook.

Javad turned to face the sun, now low in the sky. Shora stopped him, pointed at the sun, and held up five fingers. He didn’t consider himself overly bright, but he realized she meant to see him in five days. Much as he wouldn’t mind, there was no chance of him disappearing for half a day every five days. He held up all ten of his fingers. She seemed disappointed, but nodded in understanding.

His chest ached the whole walk back and his knuckles throbbed. Shora hadn’t struck him once, and he still felt beat up. He arrived home to ten lashes from his father’s cane. Not for having gone missing, but for avoiding his chores. The cane didn’t hurt much that day. Not after nearly being killed by an orc blade. He hid the long partially scabbed wound across his chest. There was no explanation for that one.