Father

 ### Chapter 10: Father###

The warriors entered the settlement with the weary gait of men who had seen too much battle and too little peace.

Their armor was battered, their weapons bloodied, and their faces etched with exhaustion.

 At the back of the group was a man who stood a head taller than the rest, with his broad shoulders and muscular frame commanding attention even in his worn state.

His black hair, streaked with gray, fell to his shoulders, and his piercing blue eyes scanned the settlement with a mixture of relief and resignation.

This was Thorn, the leader of the outcasts—and, unbeknownst to most, Paul's father.

Paul's breath caught in his throat as his golden eyes locked onto Thorn.The man matched Mira's description perfectly: tall, imposing, with a presence that could silence a room.

But there was something else in Thorn's eyes, something Paul hadn't expected—weariness.

The kind of weariness that came from years of hardship and loss. For a moment, Paul hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest.

What if Thorn didn't recognize him?. What if he didn't care?.

Thorn's gaze swept across the settlement, pausing briefly on the Griffin being tended to by the healers, before landing on Paul.

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, there was no recognition—only curiosity. 

But then, as if a spark had ignited in his mind, Thorn's expression shifted. His eyes widened, and his lips parted in disbelief.

The warriors behind Thorn exchanged confused glances, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

"Leader," one of them said, a burly orc with a missing tusk, "you know this orc?"

Thorn didn't answer. He took a step forward, his eyes never leaving Paul's. "Is it really you?" he asked, his voice trembling with emotion.

Paul swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Yes," he said, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside him. "I'm Paul. Mira's son."

The name seemed to strike Thorn like a physical blow. He staggered back slightly, his hand going to his chest as if to steady himself. "Mira," he repeated, his voice barely audible. "You're… you're my son."

The settlement erupted into murmurs, the outcasts whispering among themselves in shock.

The warriors looked at Paul with a mix of curiosity and disbelief, their eyes darting between him and Thorn. The shaman, who had been observing the scene with a calculating gaze, stepped forward.

"Leader," the shaman said, his voice sharp, "this is impossible. A hybrid of orc and barbarian? Such a thing has never been heard of."

Thorn turned to the shaman, his expression hardening. "It's not impossible," he said, his voice firm. "Mira and I… we were together for a time. Our union was forbidden, but it happened. And this is the result."

The shaman's eyes narrowed, and he glanced at Paul, his gaze lingering on the hybrid's golden eyes and the faint tan of his skin—a stark contrast to the orcs' green hues.

" I just noticed, His appearance seems… unusual," the shaman commented carefully. "Are you certain he is yours?"

Thorn's jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might lash out. But then he took a deep breath and nodded.

"I'm certain," he said. 

The murmurs grew louder, the outcasts struggling to process what they were hearing. A hybrid—a living, breathing amalgamation of orc and barbarian—was standing in their midst. It was a phenomenon none of them had ever imagined possible.

---

As night fell and the settlement quieted, Paul found himself sitting in Thorn's hut, the flickering light of a small fire in the middle, casting shadows on the walls. 

The hut was sparsely furnished, with only a fur bed , a few weapons, and a small table. It was the home of a man who had long since stopped caring for comfort.

Thorn sat across from Paul, his broad frame hunched as if carrying the weight of the world. His blue eyes, so similar to Paul's in their intensity, studied his son with a mixture of pride and sorrow. "Tell me about her," Thorn said, his voice soft. "Tell me about Mira."

Paul hesitated, his golden eyes flickering to the fire. "She raised me," he said. "Taught me how to fight, how to survive. She was… strong. Stronger than anyone I've ever known."

Thorn nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "That sounds like her," he said. "She was always the fiercest warrior I'd ever met."

Paul's hands clenched into fists, his emotions bubbling to the surface. "But it wasn't easy," he said, his voice tinged with bitterness. "The tribe never accepted me. They called me a curse, an abomination. Even the children avoided me."

Thorn's expression darkened, and he leaned forward, his eyes filled with regret. "I'm sorry, Paul," he said. "If I had known… if I could have been there…"

"Why weren't you?" Paul asked, his voice sharp. "Why did you leave?"

Thorn sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. "I didn't have a choice," he said. "The elders of my tribe found out about Mira and me. They gave me an ultimatum: leave her and never return, or face exile. I chose exile, thinking it would keep her safe. But I never stopped thinking about her. About you."

Paul's anger wavered, replaced by a deep, aching sadness. He had spent his entire life wondering if his father had abandoned him, and now he had his answer. It wasn't indifference or cruelty—it was sacrifice.

The two sat in silence for a long time, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the hut.

Finally, Thorn spoke again. " I see You've grown into a fine warrior," he said, his voice filled with pride. "Mira would be proud of you."

Paul looked up, his golden eyes meeting Thorn's. "I hope so," he said quietly.

As the night deepened, father and son continued to talk, sharing stories of their lives and the struggles they had faced. 

For the first time in his life, Paul felt a sense of belonging—a connection to the man who had given him life. And for Thorn, it was a chance to make amends, to be the father he had always wanted to be.

But even as they spoke, a shadow loomed over them—a reminder that the wilderness was unforgiving, and the challenges they faced were far from over.