Chapter One: Lesson Learned
Samson was in the field gathering crops when it happened. The warning bell rang from the watchtowers.
Orcs!
He threw his basket of corn aside and sprinted toward the safety of his village. Behind him, he could hear the shouts of the other workers, who were scattering. The ground began to tremble underneath his feet, and he could hear the howls of wolves growing louder.
Almost there!
Samson burst out of the field of tall crops and felt a flood of relief as he saw his family's hut. His younger brother, Kane, was standing at the entrance. Kane spotted him and swung his arms, motioning to Samson to keep running. Then Kane's expression transformed to terror, and he pointed wildly to just behind Samson.
Samson had only a moment to register what his brother was trying to tell him before strong arms grabbed him around the waist and hefted him into the air. He kicked and punched at what had grabbed him, but it easily overpowered him and tossed him across the back of the mount.
No!
A horn blast sounded and Samson watched helplessly as he was carried away, his village disappearing as the orc horde rode.
Samson had heard of these kidnappings but had never imagined it would happen to him. No one who had been taken had ever returned. Rumor was that in times of famine, wild orcs would take humans for food. If that was the case, Samson knew a grim fate awaited him.
He looked up at his captor. The orc was monstrous. His skin was dark green like algae, with scars that traced across him like branches of a river. The creature's body was solid, chiseled muscle, and he wore his long, jet-black hair tied back off his shoulders.
The orc's mount was a dire wolf, its massive body the only thing that could carry its rider. Samson liked dogs, but in this case he'd make an exception.
"Let me go!" Samson tried to push himself forward off of the wolf, but the orc's large hands clamped down on him, preventing movement.
Trying another tactic, Samson leaned over the orc's leg and bit down as hard as he could. The orc's skin tasted like sweat, dirt, and leather. The bitterness filled his mouth and he was rewarded with a hiss from his captor. The victory was short-lived, however, as the orc grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled Samson's head back painfully.
"Do that again and I'll pull your teeth out," the creature snarled.
"Let me go and I promise I'll never do it again," Samson spat back.
The other orc riders laughed. "Looks like you picked a wild one, Dalthu," one of them called out.
Samson's orc, Dalthu, chuckled. "A little fight is good."
They rode for hours. When they finally stopped, Samson was unceremoniously dumped onto the ground. He was exhausted. He had fought the entire day. He pinched, kicked, hit, spit, never giving his captor a moment of peace. He wasn't going to stop now.
"Hey!"
Dalthu's eyes blazed a fiery gold, and he glared down at Samson with such an expression of disgust that, for a moment, Samson was frozen. His captor took that opportunity to grasp Samson by his short ponytail and drag him away from the other orcs and their captives.
"Let me go!" Samson kicked his feet. He didn't know what the orc planned, but he wanted no part of it.
Dalthu brought him to a shaded spot where bushes had created a small cove out of view of the others.
"So ferocious," Dalthu growled. "Like a tiger cub."
"I will not let you kill me without a fight," Samson hissed. "You will have to work for your meal."
The orc stared at Samson for a moment, then roared with laughter. "You think I want to eat you?"
"I-I heard . . . that during hard times—"
"That we would feast on human flesh?" Dalthu's laughter grew and Samson didn't know whether to feel relieved or offended.
"Ah, eat you," Dalthu sniffed and flicked a tear of mirth away. "Are all humans so stupid?"
Samson sputtered in indignation. "Well, if you're not planning on eating me, then why else would you take me?"
