Femi stared up at the green-skinned woman, his round ears twitching as he took in her formidable features. She was tall, her muscular frame evident even beneath the rough-spun cloak she wore. Her dark hair was tied back in a series of intricate braids, and were those "tusks"? Small but unmistakable, they gleamed in the harsh light of the twin suns.
Her nostrils flared as she studied him, her breath forming pale clouds in the cold. "What's a soft-bellied ratling doing this far north?" she repeated, her voice like gravel dragged over stone. The words were thick with an accent Femi didn't recognize guttural, sharp at the edges. She tilted her head, studying him with an expression caught between suspicion and disgust.
Femi's whiskers bristled. "Soft-bellied?" He bit back the retort on his tongue. Insulting her wouldn't help.
The green-female didn't seem to care for his response. She reached for the cage's lock, her thick fingers fumbling with the rusted mechanism. After a few failed attempts, she growled and yanked hard. With a metallic "snap", the lock gave way, and the cage door creaked open.
"Did she just break the lock bare-handed?"
Femi didn't move.
The green-female exhaled sharply through her nose.
"Well?" She bared her teeth."You want out, or do I drag you ratling?"
Femi hesitated. The snow beneath the wagon glittered with broken ceramics and beyond it, the forest loomed, dark and dense. Escape was a fleeting fantasy. Even if he bolted now, his stiff limbs would betray him before he made it far.
Femi hesitated. This could be a trick. But then again, what did he have to lose? If he resisted, she would haul him out regardless. If he went willingly, there was at least a slim chance of escape later.
He crawled forward cautiously, his muscles stiff from days of confinement. The moment his paws touched the ground, his legs nearly gave out. He caught himself on the wagon's edge, his claws digging into the splintered wood.
The green-woman watched, unimpressed, before yanking a length of rope from her belt. Without ceremony, she seized his wrists and bound them, the rough fibers biting into his fur.
Femi gritted his teeth but said nothing. His eyes darted past her, taking in the battlefield
"Move," the orc woman grunted, shoving him forward.
Femi's ears flattened. "yes ma"
She didn't answer, already striding toward the center of the ruined caravan. Femi had no choice but to follow, his bare paws crunching on snow and shattered debris.
The scene around him was one of utter carnage. The caravan guards lay strewn across the frozen earth, their armor dented, their bodies broken and their faces frozen in final grimaces.
The green-skinned raiders looted the wagons with brutal efficiency, like carrion birds, stripping weapons, jewelry, even boots with practiced efficiency, some argued over spoils, their guttural voices rising in heated debate, while others dragged surviving humans into a ragged line, their faces hollow with terror.
Femi's stomach twisted. "I could be joining them soon."
The snow crunched underfoot, each step sending needles of cold through his bare paws. Ahead, seated on a boulder like a crude throne, was the largest creature Femi had ever seen.
His frame was a mountain of muscle and scar tissue, his green skin crisscrossed with old wounds. A jagged line ran from his hairline to his jaw, pulling his lip into a permanent half-snarl. His tusks thicker and longer than the female's were capped with iron rings that gleamed dully in the pale light. At his side hung a cleaver of a sword, its edge notched from use.
"Boss," the woman said, jerking her thumb at Femi. "Found this one in a cage. Ratling."
The boss sat upon a large rock, flanked by three heavily muscled orcs two armed with enormous double-headed axes, and one gripping a spear with a wicked, barbed tip. All three looked like they could snap Femi in half without breaking a sweat.
The boss crimson eyes, pupils pinpricks, all most as if he was smoking weed. "Ratling?" His voice was deep and grating. "Never seen one this far from its hole."
Femi resisted the urge to step back, his tail coiled tight against his back. "You're right, sir," he said carefully. "I was taken from my home by those humans."
The boss snorted, his breath reeking of fermented grapes. "No shit." He leaned forward, the boulder creaking under his weight. "Name?"
"Femi."
"Femi." The chieftain rolled the name around his mouth like a rotten tooth. "Strange. But what do you expect from a burrow-rat?"
One of the green- men spat into the snow.
Femi forced himself to remain still as the boss turned to the female . "What do you think, Varga? Can we get any use out of this runt?"
Varga, apparently her name,shrugged. "I wanted to use him as bait for the hunt."
Bait? Femi's fur prickled. Is this woman a witch
The axe-wielding green-man who spat, a brute with a scar running through his left eye, glared at Femi with open disdain. "Why waste time with this vermin, Aerius? Let's kill it and be done."
"The boss makes the decisions, not you, Talon," growled the other massive axe-wielder, Femi recognized as the one who had dragged the human woman away earlier. "Goruk," if he remembered correctly.
The two locked eyes, tension thickening the air like the promise of a storm. The boss, Aerius, merely watched, his expression unreadable.
Femi realized this might be his only chance.
"I hail you, great boss," he said, bowing his head low in what he hoped was a convincing display of submission. He'd heard beasts respected displays of weakness perhaps this people were the same. "May your days be long. Please, spare me. I can be of use."
"You "dare" speak, rat?" Talon snarled, stepping forward.
Aerius raised a hand, halting him. "Use, you say?" The boss's voice was laced with amusement. "What use do I have for a weak, cowardly creature like you?"
Got you.
"I am fast," Femi said quickly. "My senses are sharp both nose and ears and I am very good at avoiding permanent death."
The boss remained silent, his crimson eyes boring into Femi.
Varga sighed. "Could be useful. Ratlings are supposed to be sneaky, right?"
Femi's tail flicked. she might not be a witch after all
Aerius gazed at Femi, then he spoke. "Alright, ratling. Here's the deal. You work for me, you live. You try to run..." He mimed slitting his throat. "Simple."
Femi didn't hesitate. Another day alive was another day to plan an escape.
"Yes, boss," he said.
Aerius grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellowed teeth. "Good choice." He turned to his warband and bellowed, "Pack it up! We move before more humans come sniffing around!"
The warband moved with practiced efficiency, gathering their spoils and herding the prisoners into a ragged line. Femi was shoved into the group, his paws sinking into the snow with each step.
Varga walked beside him, her green eyes scanning the treeline. "Don't get any ideas," she muttered.
Femi didn't respond. His mind was already racing, analyzing every detail of his surroundings, every possible weakness in the formation.
He would escape.
But not today.