Inheritance

Month 2 – Week 1

Dara – Horde Territory (or is it?)

Dara awoke to feel rested and replete with her lot in life. There was nothing like a swim in cold water and warm sun to make a girl feel right in herself again. She snuggled beneath the comfortable blanket covering her and pillowed under her head while considering going back to sleep. It smelled so nice. Like a clean sexy man and pine needles, but muskier.

But then her brow furrowed. There were no pines this close to her farmhouse. That much she remembered clearly even if it had only been home for a short time. And she didn’t know any men.

Most glaringly, and last to occur was the fact that she had not fallen asleep at home and most certainly not under a blanket. Dara hadn’t brought a blanket with her to sleep under. Like a rabbit fleeing a hunter, she was fully awake and buzzing with realization.

“I didn’t bring this blanket.” Holding the covering over her breasts, Dara looked around the clearing alertly. There was no one. She was alone. The only difference in her surroundings was the cloak, for she could see it was a cloak, which now covered her. A warm supple fur cloak.

She shivered. From fear, the cold air that pimpled her flesh, or the delicious tickling of the furs on her bare skin? Dara didn’t know.

Fearfully aware that it meant a stranger, a large one by the size of the cloak, had been near her while she was dozing nude and unknowing. She clutched the cloak tightly to herself.

The movement made the light catch brightly on something that reflected into her eyes. Curiosity drew her gaze down and she fumbled with the folds of fur lined with fabric. At last, her trembling fingers found a hard lump and angled it back out to the light.

The cloak had been laid over her so hastily that the clasping pin was still attached. Dara gasped as she examined it, an intricate work of art shaped out of a solid lump of gold large enough to buy her farm and pay half her debt. It was on the same above-average size scale as the cloak itself. The design was reminiscent of the identifying house crests which divided the major family lines that represented the ruling class of the Matriarchy. Orcish runes ran along the rim of it.

It was unnerving that someone, who smelled like the most delicious man ever, had walked right by her while she was indecent, and she hadn’t even known. All those sleepless nights had taken their toll on her these last few weeks. Sniffing the garment again Dara closed her eyes relishing the scent. Goodness, it was delightful.

Immediately she felt a pang of guilt for salivating over the scent of a man who had caught her behaving so unladylike. Her shoulders slumped. The feeling of shame and humiliation for finding the scent alluring was overwhelming for a moment.

“Gods DAMNED it!” She nearly shouted the words as fury rose within her just as suddenly as the sense of shame had. “I have nothing to be ashamed of!” Her second sentence was one of quiet rage.

Why was she feeling guilty for thinking something that could literally harm no one? Was the man who had covered her married to someone else? How was she to know? She never even saw him.

She certainly wasn’t trying to seduce him because, seriously, she was supposed to be the only person out here. All the crap that people said about her had really done a number on her mind when just thinking that a man could maybe be someone who she might be attracted to was causing her emotional grief.

Forcing her moment of self-doubt and recrimination down to the bottom of her soul, Dara clenched her jaw and very deliberately let herself smell the cloak again. There now! She thought belittlingly at her dumb emotions. Was that so bad? Did some horrible dried-up cunt-acular woman jump out of a tree to accuse you of trying to seduce her husband because you sniffed the cloak that HE placed on you?

There may have been a hint of bitter sarcasm in her thoughts. Yet no one would hear it but her. So, no one but her could care. Dara smiled.

“No. That wasn’t so bad.” Pulling the cloak to her face, she blushed and hid her smile behind the soft fur. The hairs tickled her nostrils, and she breathed in the scent again. “I wouldn’t mind being around a man who smelled like this.”

It was murmured softly, and she sighed wistfully like the young woman she was, fantasizing for just a moment about her possibly handsome benefactor who left her a cloak. Then the moment passed, and she squared her shoulders and pushed all the silly romantic thoughts from her mind. For all she knew the cloak belonged to a woman.

Quickly she dressed, not bothering to try to hide from any eyes which might be watching. Whoever had placed that cloak on her had seen far more up close already than they would see if they were still hiding in the brush somewhere. When she held up the material to fold it up for its owner, Dara discovered that it was more enormous than she had previously surmised. The wearer of this garment had to be nearly seven feet tall or more and broader across the shoulders than any man she had ever met.

Whomever her mysterious hero was, he or she must be about the size of an orc. Could an orc have left this for her? Surely not. She went about folding the cloak anyway, put her shoes back on, and stamped out the fire.

“Hello!” Dara called out once. There was no reply. It had been a long shot to begin with and she hadn’t really expected anyone to respond. “IF you’re still here, I just wanted to thank you.”

Almost disappointed at the lack of response, Dara placed the cloak carefully on the boulder. In a stroke of what Dara thought was genius, she snatched her sketched map and the little pencil she brought with her. With her soft bold hand, she wrote the simple note for her mystery benefactor and pinned it to the cloak with the elegant pin that sparkled so becomingly in the afternoon sunlight.

Then she started home in high spirits. Yes, it was flirting with danger, but she couldn’t wait to come back here. Next time she wouldn’t take a nap in the nude.