The Dark Sire Issue 3 (Spring 2020) | Page 57

spaces where teeth no longer hung firmly in place if they hung at all, “of the outlying lands to get us to a town. Yes, I’m sure I do.” Wank sat silently as she finished bandaging his wounds, brooding over his time in the Pit, and the inexplicable nature of his release. Well, his release from a place so dark that it could eventually obscure all evidence of one’s existence. And while grateful, he remained in chains. “Sunshine. Have you ever seen sunshine?” she continued as if they’d never left the subject, hadn’t been silent for long minutes as she tended to him. “It is glorious, so warm, so bright, so true.” Wank winced at the thought of the sun, a natural enemy to orcs, the prejudice built into him since he was an orcling. It was true that he was less susceptible than any orc, but he had not overcome the ingrained bias he was practically bred on. When she was done, he helped lean her back onto her shabby bedding and held her hand. Eventually, she slept. Wank left her to her dreams, her only real joy, her only possession. It had been a long time since he’d been welcome in his sire’s cavern, or even tolerated. These last years had been spent scrounging around the lowest habitable caverns beneath the mountains, though few lived that deep. It provided a solitary peace, which he didn’t hate, and along with the occasional raid on the more populated areas, allowed for his survival. 55