Greenhorn +
> Prologue <
Uuuuuh. Yes. Generally, the main orc with whom Reader will have a romantic relationship won't appear here yet. However, an event here will contribute to a later relationship.
It's actually an unnecessary chapter(?), but I only realized halfway through that I could skip it. It took me so long that it seemed a shame to delete it, so I finished it.
So. It's long, but you don't have to read it! :^
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WARNINGS: fighting, blood, war, poor medical knowledge, medical knowledge from the Middle Ages, Reader is a prisoner of war, English is not the author's first language, a little help from online translators
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GREENHORN
The first thing Reader noticed was the shifting of light behind his closed eyelids. Next came a feeling of warmth, fading and reappearing as shadows moved across his face. Then the touch of a hard texture. He could feel himself lying on something solid, but what was it? His fingertips could barely explore the surface of the substructure—the wooden planks. The next sense he picked up was hearing. The creaking of the planks working beneath him, creaks, clatters, and rustles. What could he deduce from these sensations? The movement of the ground over the uneven terrain and the squeal of the spinning wheels gave him the suspicion that he was in a cart. More moments of wandering through the darkness, and Reader finally managed to open his eyes. He blinked a few times, allowing his pupils to adjust to the amount of light and the distance from the visible object in front of him. What was it? The ceiling. A wooden ceiling, with the sinuous lines of tree life, that he could follow with his gaze. Only after a few moments did he realize that the surface was supported by poles forming a trellis. He was lying not on a cart, but... In a cage?
The man spent the next few minutes observing the grain of the wood. It was surprisingly... peaceful. And even pleasant. At least until his mouth went dry from lack of water and the taste of iron filled his mouth. Reader guessed these were the consequences of the wounds, which had also made their presence felt. However, it wasn't the same feeling as immediately after being cut. It wasn't violent, but more of a throbbing, dull feeling. It was bearable, but definitely irritating in the long run, especially since it forced him to wake up. Reader slowly and carefully sat up, immediately regretting his decision. The pain of his muscles suddenly working after a period of inactivity and the stretching of his wounds were a nightmare for his body. It would take some time for his body to recover from the fight...That is, if he survived until then, considering the orcs around him.
The man's eyes glanced around to see a small group of powerfully built men and women with green skin. There were only a few of them, and all of them had bandages on their wounds, some even missing limbs. These last few, along with the most severely injured, rode in horse-drawn carts. It was similar with Reader, but he was in the smallest cart with a simple cage. After surveying his surroundings, the man now had only to determine why he had ended up in this situation. What was the last thing he remembered? An orc attack on his company and a fight to the death to the last soldier. Or so it should seem, yet Reader was spared and... taken prisoner? But why would they waste their strength and resources on one slave? The war wasn't over yet. He doubted Collabin had surrendered yet, or that the orcs had lost the fight. He suspected the individuals he was with were merely wounded, fleeing to the rear so as not to interfere with the main forces' assault on the enemy land. A surprisingly careful decision considering the realities of war. However, it still didn't make sense that they'd captured a prisoner of war along the way, and it was still a mystery why they would do so. How many days had passed, exactly? How long had he been unconscious?
Reader looked around at the orcs again, noticing their gazes on him now. Everyone was silent—those able to walk marched, those in the wagons suffered in silence. He saw hostility from everyone he saw, which wasn't surprising. The orcs had been attacked by the Kingdom of Collabin, so it was obvious they would hate any human—especially someone who fought for that particular country. It didn't matter if they were knights, citizens, or slaves. Everyone was their enemy. But even if understandable, it still irritated Reader. The northern reaches had been conquered for a good few years, and the tribesmen had no choice. Though he guessed the orcs didn't care. They'd been conquered in a moment of weakness, and now they were belong to Collabin, so the blame fell on them, whether they wanted it or not. The man sighed, exhausted by the situation, and hunched over, bending his knees slightly for better balance.
- Fuck - Reader muttered in his native language, grabbing his hair.
He pulled them to dull the new pain in his head and punish himself in some way. For what? If someone had asked him, he wouldn't have answered. His mind simply told him to do so on the spur of the moment. The collapse of his civilization, renewed enslavement, and the uncertainty of his future were burdens too heavy to bear at the moment. He'd probably toss them aside for now, letting the problems sit there until he dealt with them. But... What was he supposed to do now?
The man released his hair and looked at his hand. A few strands of it had caught between his fingers, but for now, his eyes fell on the cloth on his forearm. It was a bandage. Only orcs could have done that to him, which signaled to him that they didn't want him dead anytime soon. It wasn't top-notch, but at least he had something. He just needed to adjust it slightly, because he guessed the person hadn't felt like dealing with the human and had just put it on him haphazardly. At least he'd be able to examine his wounds. One by one, he slowly began unwinding the rags. He first examined the one at the elbow, where someone had tried to sever his arm with an axe. Luckily, he'd twisted the body on his heel. Next, he examined the injuries to his legs, left by worn-out military boots and poor foot placement. It was easier because he no longer had his boots on. The problem was, they were nowhere to be found, making it difficult for him to escape in the future. But at least his ankle hadn't dislocated when he stepped on the body of the dead Collabian, it had merely twisted. Now the worst wound remained – on the side of his torso. Reader gritted his teeth at the memory of a careless knight from the kingdom who had driven a sword blade between his ribs. It was fortunate that it had been a deflection from an enemy axe, not a deliberate blow or a simple miss, because then the blade would surely have penetrated deeper. Too deep. However, despite the blessing in disguise, the wound was still a torment, arduously peeling the dressing away from the scab, blood, and serous fluid. The only relief was that the amateurishly sloppy stitching didn't become infected. It was immediately obvious that the stapler had little experience, but enough to save his life. Only the scar would be unsightly, but ultimately, it would be just another line on Reader's torso. Older scars glistened on the exposed skin of his back, arms, and chest, which he had often had to take care of himself. The man wrapped the cloth around his waist again after running his fingers over the threads to make sure nothing had torn. He held his breath after taking a deep to avoid breathing problems later after he had tied the bandage securely.
Only then did he notice the sight of a slightly more experienced orc beside his cage. The young man, somewhat confused, glanced at the green-skinned male, still be half-naked and kneeling. The silence between them was broken only by the typical sounds of marching and horse-drawn carts. He felt like prey trying to hide in the grass, even if the predator already knew where he was. Therefore, only after an unfamiliar time did he dare to grab his dirty shirt and throw it on. The older orc then assessed him with dark eyes for a moment before returning to observing the others. After a mentally torturing moment, Reader could finally sigh quietly with relief. He hadn't provoked his tormentor in any way.
***
The journey lasted practically until the last rays of sunlight, before anything could be seen along the road. Only then did they stop behind some bushes, a little further from the path, and set up a simple camp around a fire. Reader watched the orcs' activities silently, as he had done all day. Therefore, his only entertainment. And waiting. For what? At first, he didn't know, until his patience was blessed by food brought by the same older orc. Despite his hunger, the prisoner didn't lunge at the plate of meat and gruel like an animal. He waited calmly until the dish was placed on the wagon's boards and until the green hand moved away. Only then did Reader calmly approach on all fours and take it onto his lap. He began to eat silently, despite his captor's gaze and the less-than-ideal taste. It wasn't top-shelf produce, but at least it wasn't filled with maggots, mistaken for rice. A traumatic memory.
- Do I have a chance to get some water for myself? - Raeder suddenly croaked, not looking at the orc.
The silence wasn't broken at first, but that didn't stop the man from continuing to chew. The fact that he had something to eat was a sufficient sign that he would eventually get something to drink. Even if not now, he would be able to survive long enough in the future.
- Maybe you have a chance for water... - finally he heard a slow voice, as if the orc was pondering something specific.
At this response, the prisoner's jaw stopped. He raised his eyes to show he was listening attentively to the elder, and in some way to show respect to the other man, who had decided to continue the conversation. He quickly swallowed his food, even if it was only partially chewed. For now, the information about the water was more important.
- If you do as I tell you, you'll get water. - he continued his idea slowly, observing the young man's reaction.
- What would that be?
- You'll come out and see.
Reader blinked, confused by the words. They'd decided to "let him out" of his cage so quickly? Not even a day had passed since he'd woken up... But he couldn't make a decision, as the orc had already opened the unprofessional door. The prisoner of war sat motionless for a moment before carefully climbing down from the wagon. Still, he had to tend to his wounds despite the tense situation. His bare feet hadn't had a chance to adjust to standing on the grass, as he was already being led by the green-skinned man toward the wagons carrying the wounded. The boy limped behind him, knowing there was no point in dragging this out. If he cooperated with them, he wouldn't have any problems in future, right? At least, he hoped so. However, seeing the unconscious young orc on the bed made of skins, he realized it wouldn't be that easy. A person who representative of the breed with large lower canines, his skin was unnaturally gray, beaded with sweat. His tense muscles were a perfect indicator of his body's stress and the immediate problem. The bandage on his chest was red with not-so-old blood, suggesting a nightmare in the heart area.
- Nie jestem lekarzem. - powiedział Czytelnik, natychmiast rozumiejąc sytuację. - Nie mam żadnej wiedzy medycznej.
- I think you know something after all. - his "guide" replied, looking pointedly at the well-applied bandages on the man's forearm.
- Even so, this is the knowledge of simple wounds. He will die as soon as I touch him.
- How long do you think he will survive if you don't touch him?
The human's lips hesitated before answering. He'd been kidnapped, barely awake, and suddenly they were ordering him to take care of one of them that same day? How desperate were they? The youth's eyes once again shifted to the cruelly wounded orc. He was indeed young, as she recognized from his smaller stature, unlike adults, and his short lower tusks. Certainly younger than Reader, who shot that he was probably not even 20. Was there a chance he could have been only 18 and gone into his first serious fight? The thought troubled the member of the fallen Sov-Veng tribe. He had been raised to care for a children at all costs, for they were the future of life. Whether his own or the enemy's, each should have a chance at life.
- I guess he won't last a week. - he muttered, watching the blood trickle down his green skin.
The feeling of the blade against his neck, dangerously close to an artery, made the prisoner flinch involuntarily. Were they going to kill him for not helping? Were they going to waste time transporting him in a cage, only to be killed a few days later?
- There are worse things than death, man. - threatened the oldest of those gathered, assuaging the boy's doubts.
- I don't promise he'll survive. - the surrendered young man muttered.
- Your legs won't be needed anyway.
Jaw clenched, Reader knelt beside the younger creature's body and reached for the bandages. He remained silent as he saw another orc lift the teen's torso slightly to make it easier to access the wound. It took a moment to remove the rags before he finally understood why the wound hadn't been more properly treated. The man's eyes fell upon the severed arrowhead. The remnant of the weapon was embedded in the left side of the chest, where the young heart beat.
- Which idiot cut off arrows like that? - the man muttered in disgust, preferring not to insult his knackers in everyday language. - Can I have more light?
The prisoner waited a moment until a glowing white crystal, pulled from the bag, appeared above his head. He glanced briefly at the light source before returning to his examination of the wound. With careful movements, he slightly opened the wound, which continued to flow despite the time. Had something been severed? Was it one of the veins connecting to the heart?
- How much time has passed? - he asked quietly, noticing the signs of an attempt to move the dangerous tool, which only made matters worse.
- About three days. - replied the older orc, who Redear guessed was the leader of the wounded group.
- It's a miracle he's alive, even for an orc. - the medical amateur remarked.
- What are his chances? - his interlocutor asked, deliberately ignoring his previous words.
- I have a feeling I'll be about 30 cm shorter. - he said, alluding to the earlier threat.
- Just do what you can.
The man jutted his lower jaw out slightly in a gesture of irritation and thought. He truly resented being asked to do something barely possible. Regardless, he accepted the challenge, whether out of threat or simply pity for the youngest in the group. Reader sighed, tapping his toe against his leg and scanning the area for a way out. Eventually, his eyes were drawn to the flames of the campfire in the center of the camp, which danced merrily in contrast to the atmosphere. The man narrowed his eyes at the activity of the red-orange lights, eagerly burning the wood. Burning...
- Give me at least two knives and pull him closer to the fire. - said Reader suddenly, getting an idea.
The group leader narrowed his eyes at the human's words, but nodded to the others to do as he ordered. The wounded orc had little time anyway, so the risk wasn't great considering the overall situation. The human prisoner of war easily picked up knives he'd been given and examined it in the light of the stone. Satisfied with the items, he walked over to the fire and leaned it against the stones with the blades in the flames.
- Bring anything he can bite. - the youth continued, turning to the eldest. - Do you have needles and thread?
- We have... - he replied slowly, wondering what the man was up to.
After bringing all the supplies, the man could begin the operation. He carefully opened the orc's mouth and inserted a stick into which he could bite when he felt the pain. Finally, he leaned down and examined the wound one last time to calm himself. He needed quick, precise action without a moment's hesitation, so he mentally rehearsed his movements several times.
- Someone open his wound. - he muttered quietly, as if even words could break his concentration.
He took a final breath as he waited for the two orcs to pull the edges of the wound in opposite directions. He took two knives from the fire in his own hands, leaving the spares at the ready, and slowly slid the blades into the wound. The heat immediately seared the wound, causing the youngest to twitch, but it gave him the opportunity to catch the tip between the two ends. It took a terrifyingly long time for the weapon to move, until Reader finally noticed movement. A huge amount of blood gushed from the wound, but he didn't damage anything as he pulled out the remnant of the arrow. In a slight panic at the spurt, he quickly tossed the fatal piece aside and pulled another dagger from the fire, ignoring the flames licking at his hand. The pain brought the man back to his senses enough to cauterize the wound without further damage. He waited a moment, even after the blood stopped flowing, somewhat disbelieving what he had done. Finally, he pulled out the blade to carefully observe the wound for any leaking blood. But... There was nothing. Nothing was flowing, and the orc continued to breathe. Reader blinked in shock, then let go of everything and quickly touched the wounded man's skin with his fingers. He examined the body as if in a trance, searching for a pulse in various places, until he concluded that everything important was working. It seemed nothing major had been severed... A calmer Reader finally stitched the orc's wound as best he could and stepped back.
- He has a chance. - he said, his voice heavy with the weight of responsibility. It's definitely easier to kill than to save someone's life.
Reader sat down wearily on the grass, still watching the orc, as if afraid something might go wrong. He still didn't look his best, but at least he no longer had an arrow to his heart. The man only looked away when the green-skinned woman, missing an eye, confirmed that the youngest was in stable condition. Breathing slowly, the man's eyes watched the individual blades of grass near his legs, his mind blank. He... He had saved someone... An enemy... Perhaps. Would the child survive the next few days? What more could he do? Reader's thoughts were interrupted by a waterskin filled with water beside his head. Wordlessly, he accepted the promised reward and took the life-giving liquid into his mouth. Though, given the situation, it seemed a laughably small reward.
- It would be good to make an infusion of yarrow and wild garlic. - he muttered weakly between swallows.
- For now, enjoy your achievement. - he heard as he was patted on the head like a good animal.
The prisoner of war didn't respond. He sat in silence for the rest of the evening, surrounded by orcs who weren't as hostile as they had been in the afternoon. Finally, the human saved the life of one of them a few hours after waking up in captivity. They might not have trusted him, but they could easily hold casual conversations in their own language.
- Dhewst has a good eye for pets. - the oldest of the orcs purred, looking at Reader from afar.
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I don't know how long it took me and I don't want to know ᓂ,______,ᓀ