[Queen of Orcs 02] - Clan Daughter by Morgan Howell Page A

you know?”
    “Urkzimmuthi mothers don’t cover breasts, except when it’s cold.”
    “Am I too short?”
    “Some mothers are your size.”
    Knowing that Kovok-mah would answer truthfully, Dar had difficulty asking the next question. “Am I ugly?”
    “It doesn’t matter to me.”
    “So I am.”
    “Dargu, sight of you brings me joy. I care not what others think.”
    Dar kissed Kovok-mah. “Then, I don’t care either.” And, for the moment, she truly meant it.
     
    Dar’s hair was still damp when she led the orcs from Tarathank. The surrounding prairie spread in all directions, gray under a rising moon. The Blath Urkmuthi— Cloak of Mothers —formed black silhouettes on the near horizon. Dar didn’t try to follow the overgrown road. Instead, she pushed through the tall grass, taking the most direct route to the mountains. The stay in the city had interrupted the cycle of traveling by night and sleeping by day, and Dar was tired even before they started. It was still night when she called a halt to sleep.
    When the sun rose on the empty countryside, Dar decided that it would be safe to journey by day. The mountains were close, and there was little chance the orcs would encounter a force they couldn’t overcome. “Throw away your rags,” she said, tossing her fake bandages upon the ground. “We’ll travel openly.”
    For the orcs, abandoning their disguises marked an occasion for celebration. Zna-yat grinned at Dar as he ground his rags into the dirt. “We’ve escaped death because of you,” he said. Then Zna-yat bowed his head to Dar, and the other orcs did also.
    “Dargu said we’d become wolves,” said Varz-hak, “and we have.” He leaned back and howled. Lama-tok joined in.
    “We should call her ‘wolf,’ not ‘weasel,’” said Lama-tok.
    Kovok-mah smiled. “She’s too tiny to be wolf.”
    Dar responded by grabbing Kovok-mah’s neck and pulling his head down to kiss his lips. Duth-tok, who had never seen a kiss before, laughed. “This weasel is so fierce that she bites Kovok-mah’s face.”
    “That was ‘kiss,’ not bite,” said Kovok-mah.
    “I think she’s tasting him,” said Lama-tok.
    Dar licked her lips. “He’s sweet and juicy.”
    All the orcs hissed with laughter, except Kovok-mah, who looked discomforted. “Did I say something wrong?” asked Dar. The question made the orcs hiss louder.
    “Sons cannot be sweet and juicy,” said Kovok-mah in a low voice, “only mothers.”
    Dar turned bright red.
     
    Upon the road, the presence of the other orcs inhibited Dar, and she was more reserved around Kovok-mah. Yet restraint only increased her yearning. The feeling she identified as love seemed like a form of hunger that was never satisfied. Kovok-mah’s nearness didn’t ease it. Rather, it had the opposite effect. Dar assumed her scent made her feelings obvious, but Kovok-mah made no advances. The lack of aggression, which had initially put Dar at ease, began to make her insecure.
    When Kovok-mah’s passivity began to feel like rejection, Dar learned how quickly love became unhappiness. He’s changed his mind. He’s ashamed of giving love to an ugly washavoki. That idea made her miserable and withered her confidence. She became unsure how to behave around him and too embarrassed to ask. Dar responded to her unhappiness by pushing herself physically. She set a pace that was punishing—though only to herself—in an effort to purge her misery through exhaustion.
    By hard walking, the travelers reached the foothills of the Blath Urkmuthi in two days. These rose abruptly from the plain like a rocky coastline on an ocean of grass. The irregular wall of stone that towered behind them was a bleak and imposing barrier. No vegetation softened its crags, whose bare limestone resembled the folds of a crumpled cloak. Dar ascended a stony hill to get an unobstructed view. When she reached its summit, she didn’t like what she saw. The way looked hard and unforgiving. “I