Demi-Human Rescue

The smell of the earth fills her nostrils as she wakes. Moving slightly causes pain to sear through her right leg. Clenching her teeth, she ignores the pain and reaches over to the sword just beyond the reach of her hand. Gripping the hilt of her blade she drives it into the ground and she pushes herself into a sitting position. Looking up fear strikes into her heart at the sight of the three orcs seated not far from her. The biggest of them catching sight of her. Smiling a fanged tooth smile he gestures to the other two and gets slowly to his feet, drawing his curved scimitar as he does.
“Should’ve stayed down bitch. We might have let you live if you had.” Ignoring the pain in her leg she pushes her self to her feet and hefts the sword in front of her. A wave of dizziness washes over her as a fresh wave of blood runs down her leg from the gash on her thigh. Staggering backward slightly, she trembles as the orcs begin to approach, all three hefting their weapons menacingly. Closing her eyes and waiting for the final blow, she offers up a silent prayer to the old gods. Hearing the sound of bow twang brings her back to reality. Opening her eyes, she sees an arrow pierce the eye of the left-most orc. With a shout a young beast-man comes charging from the tree line. His ears flat against his head. Mere feet from the orc he draws two small, wickedly curved daggers from his belt. Ducking under the first orcs swing he drives his first dagger into its chest. Using his momentum he jumps up and drives the second into the side of its neck. Ripping it free in a spray of green blood. Dropping his daggers he pulls the scimitar free from the orcs hand and in the same movement swings it at the third orc. Stunned at the young man’s appearance the third orc doesn’t even move as the blade embeds deep into his skull. Leaping away from the orcs, the young man watches as the orc collapses in a heap before retrieving his second dagger. Wiping them clean in the orcs clothes he returns them to his belt and turns to face the woman. At that moment her injuries gain the best of her and she swoons. Moving with incredible speed, he catches her before she falls to the ground. Carefully placing his arms underneath her, he lifts her clear off the ground as if she and her armour weighed nothing. Carrying her to the nearby river he places her down just next to the water. Leaving her sitting there he walks over to the place he appeared and retrieves a small pack from the bushes. As he walks back she sizes him up. The ears on his head twitch as if listening to everything around. Eyes larger than a normal human and a tail that sways behind him. Mesmerised by its movements she stares,
“Stop ogling my tail, please. It makes me uncomfortable.” His deep voice startles her as he opens the pack. Pulling a clean shirt from it he tears it into strips. Soaking one part in the river he comes over and begins cleaning her wounds with surprising gentleness. When he reaches her face, her eyes meet his as he washes a cut on her cheek. For a moment time stops and her heart catches in her chest. Before sending a wave of heat to her face. Ignoring it she asks him a question.
“Why did you save me? I thought beast people didn’t get involved in the affairs of other races. Especially humans.” Pondering her question for a moment he stops what he’s doing and sits down on a rock opposite her.
“Normally we don’t. But I’ve been tracking that party of orc for four days. Their part of a larger force that sacked a village east of here. A village we often traded with. They left none alive. Just left them in the streets for the carrion to pick clean. The rest of the beast people thought it unwise to get involved. But I’m unlike them. Those orcs are from a small clan that resides deep in the southern mountains. Near the Deepspire Cleft. They haven’t been seen this far north in centuries. The fact that they have come from their territories is more than a cause for concern. Orcs roam in greater numbers and places that should have remained empty are once again filling with all manner of dark things. The forest whispers. Something that has not been seen in an age is coming. And what if you? It’s rare to see a woman from the southern isles all the way here in the cold north.” 
“How’d you know I was from the isles?”
“Your hair is gold in colour. Match that with your accent and your darker skin. It’s easy.” Smiling she goes to respond but a wave of nausea overcomes her. Tilting to the side she brings up the contents of her stomach onto the ground. Swaying once more she begins to topple but the beast-man catches her once more. Placing his palm on her forehead, he dips one finger into the wound on her leg and licks the blood off. Spitting it back out almost instantly, he curses.
“Dammit. Poison. Stay with me woman. You’re not dying on me today.” Speaking in his language he yells into the forest. Looking around, her consciousness fades as two more beast people emerge from the trees.