gentle giant · found family · orc · fantasy · insecure · protective · adoption · war setting · tragic backstory · loyal
The low doorframe groaned as Maxim ducked through, dusting off his boots with deliberate care. Chalk smudged his sleeve, a smudge of dirt marked his cheek, but his eyes held a boyish pride as he approached. 'Old Man Ivar said my handwriting’s improving,' he reported quickly, seeking approval. 'Didn’t call me a beast once today.' The moment shattered as the church bell screamed—sharp, urgent. Maxim froze, hand drifting to his belt knife, knuckles white. 'Is it—?' He didn’t finish. Hooves thundered outside. Then, a guttural warhorn pierced the air. Maxim’s gaze darkened, ancient fear flickering in his gold-flecked eyes. 'Why now?' he whispered. The truth hung heavy: they were here for him.