Orcs, wolves, and a woman who knows too much: Lizbeth’s escape has only just begun.

Part 5: The Woman in Woodsman’s Garb, By Mia Sumner

There  was nothing for dinner that night. The orcs had taken everything of value and destroyed what they didn’t want. The smoldering ruins of several huts at least kept Lizbeth warm, but everyone she knew was dead and her home was destroyed.

She stayed in the village that night in part because she didn’t know what else to do and also because she still held the faint hope that someone else had escaped. By morning it was clear that they had not and she forced herself to plan.

There was no future for her or anyone in Briar Glen, it was gone. Wealdstone was the nearest town, but Lizbeth had never been there. It was several days even by horse, which she did not have. She would need to prepare then, forage for provisions. She was no hunter, but she knew the lands around Briar Glen and could find roots and berries. At least she wouldn’t starve on her journey.

Her clothes and possessions were destroyed so all she had was what she wore. What she would do when she reached Wealdstone, but she was young and pretty, so the boys said, so there was always whoring if nothing else.

The woods were strangely quiet as she began her foraging. The scent of the orcs lingered and scared off the animals. Even the birds were silent. With the shock subsiding, she began to wonder about what had happened to her village. Orcs hadn’t been seen in these parts since before she was born and this was an organized raiding party, that much was obvious. She should warn someone when she got to Wealdstone, though she wasn’t sure who.

Lost in thought she didn’t notice the wolf until she was almost on top of it.  The large, dark brown animal stood motionless in the clearing staring right at her.  She froze but it didn’t move to attack her. She stared at it, barely daring to breathe, she couldn’t outrun a wolf. The animal bared its teeth and Lizbeth tensed, then it turned and walked off slowly into the woods. Lizbeth frowned, that was not normal behavior for a wolf and why was that animal still here when no others were?

She sat, resting her back against a tree trunk and trying to calm her pounding heart. So much had happened in so little time. Tears seeped from her eyes and suddenly she was sobbing as the scale of it all hit her.

“Did anyone else get away?” It was a woman’s voice, calm and almost friendly.

Lizbeth’s head shot up and she wiped the tears from her eyes, looking around to find the source. “N-no.” She answered, finally locating the woman on the edge of the clearing. Dressed in woodsman’s garb with short hair that looked like it had been hacked off by a blunt knife, the lean, raw-boned woman made no move to approach her.

“Orcs.” The woman spat the word. “Cursed creatures. How did you survive?”

“I hid,” Lizbeth said. The stranger had made no threatening moves so she allowed herself to relax, though glad that she had scavenged a small knife from the ruins of her village.

“Smart.” The woman nodded in approval. “Only fight when you can win. Your man… boy, he tried to fight. Didn’t go so well.”

Lizbeth frowned, did the woman mean Darrick and if so, how did she know about Darrick? “He’s dead?” She asked and her voice wavered.

“Might be, dunno.” The woman shrugged and didn’t seem too concerned. “He was alive when they dragged him off. It would have been better if he’d hid like you.”

Lizbeth sagged with relief and sadness. Darrick might be alive, but at best he was a prisoner of the orcs and suffering who knows what torments.

“Follow me.” The woman said. She didn’t explain why, but exhausted and terrified as she was, Lizbeth was happy for someone else to take charge. Clambering to her feet she trod after the woman.

“I’m Lizbeth.” She panted, struggling to keep up with the woman who seemed far too comfortable in the woods.

“I know.” She said, without breaking stride. Another puzzle, how did this woman know her name Lizbeth wondered.

“And you are…” She prompted when it became clear the woman had no intention of volunteering anything.

“Illona.” The woman said after a long pause. Lizbeth frowned at the woman’s rudeness but keeping up was making her breathless and conversation would be difficult anyway so she bit her tongue and said nothing further.

They continued walking, for what felt like hours. If the woman, Illona, followed a path of some sort, Lizbeth couldn’t spot it. Branches snagged at her clothes and occasionally scratched her hands and face, but Illona did not slow down for a moment. Finally, the dense trees thinned out into a clearing and Lizbeth saw a small wooden hut ahead.

“Wait here,” Illona said, turning to look at her for the first time. “Osric don’t like surprises.”

Lizbeth frowned but said nothing. She didn’t know who Osric was and didn’t think he’d ever visited Briar Glenn. How far were they from home she wondered, it could only be a few miles, surely these trappers or whatever they were must have traded with the village?

Illona didn’t wait for any response, just turned and strode towards the hut. Lizbeth stood there at the edge of the clearing, fidgeting uncomfortably aware of how helpless and alone she was.  She missed her family, her friends, Darrick, it would be so easy to just lay down right here and give up completely.

Illona went inside the hut and Lizbeth waited, getting increasingly nervous. Was this Osric a violent man, would he hurt her? Or… would he expect something from her? She bit her lip, wondering how far she was willing to go, before shrugging the idea off. Illona did not seem like the sort to allow that behavior.

A churning in her stomach reminded her of how long it had been since she had eaten and her mouth felt dry. Glancing around she spotted the small well and walked over to it to get herself a drink. The water was icy cold and refreshing to drink. She used a little to clean her scratches and remove some of the dirt that caked her skin. Then she took the opportunity to do an inventory, her clothes were already showing wear from her travels, but nothing that a needle and thread couldn’t repair.

“Come in,” Illona said and Lizbeth spun round. The woman was standing at the door of the hut, but there was no sign of the mysterious Osric. Lizbeth briefly wondered if this was all some sort of trap, but that made no sense Illona was clearly stronger and more capable than she and could have overpowered her at any point.

Putting her reservations aside, Lizbeth followed Illona into the hut. It was dim inside with the only illumination coming from one small window. There was a man, Osric, sitting in one corner, he looked lean and muscular with a hint of silver in his hair, but his face was scarred and set in a scowl as he looked back at her.

“Never mind him,” Illona said when Lizbeth paused at the entrance. “You can sleep over there.” She gestured towards another corner of the hut where some straw and a blank had been arranged. It wasn’t much but Lizbeth’s leg’s ached and she was tired as she’d never felt before in her life.

“Thank you.” She said, genuinely grateful for the hospitality of these two strangers. Illona just shrugged.

“Best get a bed,” she said. “Moons be up soon.” Lizbeth didn’t know what to make of that comment, but the little bed beckoned to her and she eagerly crawled under the blanket, turning her back towards the wall so she couldn’t see Osric’s scowling face.

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