The weight of his mother in his arms was a burden he would gladly bear for the rest of his life. Night sounds of the forest underscored their return to the campfire. Anipa regarded him ruefully as if he knew what had happened but refused to believe it.
Lyvelle fell deeper into slumber after her son had put her to bed. It was not yet midnight, but there were not many hours until dawn.
Dagok saw his mother's peaceful face in the dim firelight. He smelled the remnants of their mating on her body and his own hands. He tasted guilt and shame on his tongue. He felt the stiffness in his cock slowly abate. He softly sang to her an Elven lullaby his mother often sung to him as a child to soothe her slumber.
Dagok was first to awaken in the morning. The sun had already risen in the sky but not far. He felt incredibly refreshed, unsullied by innate Orc demands.
His mother roused, and he went to her.
Lyvelle reached up and stroked one side of her son's sorrow-filled face. "Regret is the price we must pay to save you from what your natural desires can unleash. Until we find a better way, I must be ready to accept your urges - hopefully before they overcome your reason."
Dagok's guilt undermined his mother's comforting hand and reassuring words.
"I will find a way, Mother. I promise. I will never hurt you or shame you again." He pulled away. "I am not worthy of your love, Mother."
"You have no say in how I love, Dagok." Lyvelle winced from her bruises and wounds that were scabbed over. She lay down her head and resumed sleeping.
Dagok meditated on the remains of the fire and the peaceful faces of his sleeping parents. He remembered the stag awaiting to be butchered, hanging from a tall tree. He quietly got up and brandished his knife. Moving to the embers, he stirred them until a flame sprang to life. He added branches to bring heat back to their camp and then marched away to the hanging stag, his stomach growling with hunger.
Lyvelle awoke sometime later, discomfort seeped through her abused body. She wondered where Dagok had gone but trusted he would be okay if he was not gone long. She reached to her husband and shook him.
Anipa stirred in his bedroll, coughing. "Wife?" His head turned to hers, eyelids sagging. "I dreamed that our son-"
"Dagok is fetching meat, no doubt." Lyvelle interrupted, hoping that was true. "We should prepare to leave after a hearty breakfast."
Dagok returned, hauling the butchered stag's haunches over his shoulders. He smiled at his still-sleepy parents, trying to ignore the memory of the previous night.
"Good morning, Father, Mother." He said, a forced cheer in his voice as he set the meat down by the fire. He added wood to it until the flames were hot enough to roast the hearty haunches.
Once cooked, including the vegetation that Anipa had collected, their meal satisfied even Dagok's great hunger, and the remaining roasted venison was packed away. They spoke little during the meal, still groggy from the strange night. Dagok noticed his father taking glances at the blanket Lyvelle wore instead of her once fine, leather breeches.
Dagok tasted remorse in each bite of the venison. His father's concerned glances at his mother only deepened his regret. He kept his eyes on his meal.
"Mother, I can scout ahead, make sure the way is safe."
"That will only split our strength, Son." Anipa explained. "We will march apart but within sight of each other, close enough to bring instant aid to any of us. Stay alert and use your good sense." He finally pointed at Lyvelle's makeshift skirt. "That will encumber you. Are your pants missing? Perhaps an animal..." He did not finish his thought.
Lyvelle was at a loss to explain.
Dagok saw his mother's discomfort and decided to step in.
"Father, it was my fault. I had been clumsy during our sparring the previous night. I was sorry for the trouble I had caused." Dagok's ongoing remorse hopefully helped his father buy the lie.
"He clawed it to shreds, Husband." Lyvelle shook her head and forced a slight grin on her face. "It was a move I should have anticipated, but our son proved his resourcefulness in mock combat as well as his self-control. He could have ripped flesh from my leg bone." She hoped their partial lies would suffice for now, though her heart urged the truth to be revealed. Not now. Lyvelle told herself.
Dagok smelled his mother's worry and nodded in agreement. He saw his father's worried expression and tried to ease his concern.
"I promise, Father, I will be more careful in the future." Dagok rose from his meal and began to pack his gear.
The next leg of their journey was interrupted two days later by a column of giant ants, which they patiently waited to march past them, hiding up trees - not that doing so would prevent them from being devoured by the swarm. A march of ants is always on a mission. They weren't hunting for new sources of food.
Over those two days after ravaging his mother, Dagok experienced occasional, dull urges which he privately satisfied with his hands.
His mother walked stiffly the first day but more smoothly the next, as her wounds proved minor. They moved like a cautious band of hunters until the woods ended and rocky hills appeared before them. Lyvelle consulted with Anipa, and they chose a path that turned southerly.
Dagok felt the wind as they left the shelter of trees. He tasted the dry air of the rocky terrain they approached. A seemingly endless stretch of rocky hills reached to the tall horizon, and his heartbeat picked up in anticipation.
"Mother, Father, it will soon be dark. Should we stay among the trees until morning?"
