The three orcs sat round the fire, gnawing on the bones of an elf.
“You ever wonder,” began Hrakht.
“Wonderin’s for elves an’ yoomns,” grunted Gnurgle.
“I thought...” said Hrakht.
“Ooh, thinkin’ now, izzee?” jeered Rabjagh.
“You know Hrakht ’ere’s only half an orc?” said Gnurgle. “Yoomn mother. Must have scared her when he came out!”
Hrakht remained silent. How could he tell them that he didn’t feel like an orc at all? That he dreamed of belonging to one of the fair races, like the one they had just eaten.
In his dreams, he—no, she—called herself “Jill.”
This story previously appeared on Crap Mariner’s 100 Word Challenge