On The Hunt (closed for Angeleyz)

"There's been tell of a band of orcs ambushing and capturing caravans from here to Giltblossom...they kill the men and children and take the women for slaves. Barbarians, they are."

"It can't be that bad...elsewise no one'd be traveling the Forest Trail."

"Well, I know I am staying well away from there, even if the king decrees it."

"You'd rather die for treason than go fight off a few orc savages?"

"You haven't heard what I have..."

"What've you heard?"

"There's one of em...bigger than the rest...they say his tusks are bigger than a thragboar's...and he's beat a man to death with one hand. Hit him with it like a hammer and smashed his skull in like it were made of soapstone..."

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The Forest Trail from Bannerton to Giltblossom was once the safest path through the Bloodbriar. Now it was rife with banditry, everything from innocuous theft to kidnapping for ransom. One particular spot often left nothing but kindling and bodies remaining of the caravans passing through. Entire retinues of soldiers disappeared while pursuing the perpetrators, so many that the king eventually resorted to alternate routes to be taken through the dangers of the Bloodbriar.

It was in this spot that the folk tales of a brutal orc chieftain that killed men for pleasure and took women as tribute rose to near legendary proportions. Every hamlet and town from one end of the Bloodbriar to the other had seen crude drawings of the orc plastered on tavern walls with a hefty reward for his capture or confirmed execution. Many had braved the forest in search of the prize, but none had succeeded in nearly a decade. The stories estimated the wanted orc to be anywhere from a youth to a grizzled old man, and no one had made a positive sighting to confirm.

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"Rodric and his gang said they'd be going out into the Bloodbriar two days from now...yeah, lookin' for that orc. They raised the reward threefold. I guess he took one of the duke's nieces or something when they were on their way to Giltblossom for a wedding. They really should know by now to just take a ship...but I guess it was faster and they had a battalion of king's guard with them..."

"Rodric and his boys are gonna get slaughtered..."

"Yeah...probably...they don't even have a proper guide..."

Feet flying, the green and brown clad figure raced through the forest, leaping over exposed roots and broken limbs of the ancient trees that arose majestically over head without the slightest hesitation or break in their stride. Cerulean blue eyes tracked their quarry, despite the way he zigzagged his way through the thickening brush in his desperate attempt to evade the inevitable. A section of chestnut brown hair escaped its loosening confines as the pursuer used their right shoulder to push aside a low branch, tucking the bow clutched in their left hand protectively into their chest.

With a burst of speed that left the quiver bouncing against their back, the figure reached out their hand and slapped the hindquarters of their furry companion crowing, "Got you again, Laika." There was a note of playful joy in the soft, alto voice claiming victory over her part wolf/part dog companion, a sound few people ever heard.

Coming to a stop as soon as her victory had been declared, Safia looked around and spotted the downed pine tree that would serve nicely as a backrest while she and Laika nibbled on some dried meat she had tucked away earlier in the morning. Removing the quiver from her back, she leaned that and her short bow against the tree and plopped down on the ground. Pulling out the small bundle of meat, she quickly unwrapped it and offered half to her long-time companion, who promptly gulped it down. Shaking her head, she took a small bite of her portion savoring the taste, while resting her right hand in Laika's multi-colored fur.

"Guess we won't have any more days like today for awhile, boy," she mused as she recalled the deal she had struck with the one called Rodric. She hadn't much cared for the loud mouthed giant, disliking the way he talked to her almost as much as the way he looked at her, although why any of it should be a surprise was a mystery to her. Folks around these parts had treated her like a pariah since her birth, like it was her fault her mother had allowed herself to be sweet talked into sleeping with that silver tongued devil of a father.

No, Thallan Valgolor was no father to her. He was merely the sperm donor who had sired a poor half elf on her mother, who had once purportedly had been the village beauty. Poor Milja Lhotzky had taken one look into his aquamarine eyes and had fallen hard for the elf, a mistake she would rue for the rest of her life. And while Thallan had laughed in her face when a young Safia had tried to tell him she was his daughter, at least Milja had tried to provide for her daughter, although that had to be done on the sly or her family would have thrown her out into woods too.

An insistent nudge in her side brought Safia back to the present, and she smile ruefully at Laika. "You're right, of course.... No sense in dwelling on things that can never be changed." She chewed on the rest of her meal as she thought about the Bloodbriar and all the different areas one could hole up in. If the quest was successful, she'd have enough money for her and Laika to leave this area once and for all.

Rodric and his group of bounty hunters were gathered around a campfire when they heard someone approach. From the look of her and the shaggy dog that padded beside her, it had to be their guide. Rodric stood and strode over to her, grunting and grumbling and handing her a small pouch.

"You'll get the other half if we make it into the Bloodbriar. You better be as good as that old wench said you are. Otherwise we might as well be guidin' ourselves..."

He gave a sidelong glance at the dog...no, wolf...maybe some sort of half-breed. Fitting, a pair of half-breeds. Rodric said nothing more and ambled back over to the campfire.

While they sat and ate, they shared stories of dangerous encounters and daring heists and battles. They drank and fell asleep under the open sky, and when the morning came they strapped on their swords and gathered around Safia, waiting for her to lead them down the right path.

---------------

A scream echoed into the thick tangle of trees, a cry for freedom from a frail voice.

It was met with the dull sound of a slap, a heavy hand meeting a cheek.

"Go on, cry for help. Your men are dead. The only reason you're not is because your fear amuses me."

"You're a monster..."

Another dull thud and the sound of a person falling to the ground in a heap.

"You say that like it's a bad thing..."

A sinewy hand reached down and grasped the crying figure around the throat, clutching tightly and lifting.

"So much for a king's guard. You couldn't even save a woman and the rest of your soldiers...how could you protect a king?"

The guard gurgled in protest as the hand about his throat squeezed tighter. His feet kicked feebly and he brought his own hands up to try and wrest himself free.

Oryk smirked as he closed his hand around the guard's neck and jerked it to the side, feeling the bones snap and watched as the body fell limp. He tossed it aside and a pair of shorter orcs started savaging the body, hooting and growling.

In a pen next to Oryk's hut was a girl in a torn and tattered gown. She was sullen and silent as the green-skinned man stood before her.

"Looks like you're all alone now. Guess you'll be missing that wedding. Don't worry though, you'll still get to have some fun later. Well, I will be having fun. You may or may not."

He laughed to himself as he stepped into his hut and sorted through the reports of his scouts. Various hunting parties had been seen entering the Bloodbriar recently. So it seemed they meant to finally put an end to him.

"Let them try..."

Clutching the small pouch that Rodric had handed her, Safia nodded shortly at his terse words, knowing it would do little good to point out that she was the best tracker this side of the Triethan Moutains. Was best to keep her head down and mouth closed until it was time to leave. 'Just one more trek,' she reminded herself as she chose a spot on the outskirts of the campfire to sit down.

There were no words of greeting from the others, no offers to join in their meal. Not like she would have accepted had they had, figuring it would be yet another joke at her expense. That didn't mean she didn't pay attention as she quietly set about sharpening her arrows and blades. She quickly took stock of Rodric's men as they traded stories, insults and jabs. There were a couple that seemed semi-experienced, but they were advanced in their years and she wondered if their reaction times were now hampered. She figured the loudmouth braggarts with the grandiose stories likely hid the largest of cowards, and she assumed they'd be the first to cut and run at the first sign of trouble.

Feeling the weight of a heavy stare, Safia looked up and immediately sighted the source, or rather sources. Laika made as if to look up as well, and she immediately put a hand out stopping him, not wanting to draw any more attention. The two men sitting side by side weren't trading stories with the rest, and the menace emanating from them was almost palpable. When the one on the right noticed her looking in their direction, he leaned over and said something to his companion, and the resulting smile made the hairs on her arms stand.

Thankfully no one seemed to notice Laika's low, warning rumble, and she coolly turned her attention away from the men and murmured, "Yes, my friend...we're going to have to watch those two." She kept her head down while she finished her blades, refusing to acknowledge to the two men that she was aware of their stares for the rest of the evening. The only deviation she had in her normal routine as everyone prepared to sleep was the placement of her newly sharpened knives that much closer.

---------------

Pausing to look over her shoulder, Safia ended up stopping when she realized that for the third time that day she and Laika had outpaced everyone again. They had started off the morning eager enough, but hours of tromping through the forest had taken more out of Rodric and his men than she would have expected. Laika sat back on his haunches with a huff of air that sounded almost like a sigh, causing a grin to break across her face.

"I know... This is going to take forever at this pace," she agreed.

She had just caught sight of the first of the stragglers when Laika stood up abruptly and faced the woods on their left. He made no noise, but there was a charged alertness in his posture that caused her to pull her bow from her shoulder and an arrow from her quiver even though she herself hadn't sensed anything yet.

It was late afternoon before their first signs were spotted. Oryk's scouts reported three separate hunting parties had entered the Bloodbriar, all apparently sent to find and kill him. He laughed callously and sent some of his troops to deal with two of them, picking a few of his best men to accompany him in pursuit of the third.

This band was made of old men, fat and tired and foolish enough to think themselves still warriors. How they'd managed to even survive this far into the forest was lost on Oryk...until he caught the scent of their guide.

He watched from a hidden space in the lowest part of the canopy of thick tangled vines and tree limbs, the hairs on his neck standing on end as he caught sight of her and her wolfkin companion. He'd been noticed, but not spotted. He signaled to his men to skirt around this one, to take the others quickly. They signaled replies and melted into the forest.

The following yelps of pain and cries of horror gave Oryk the opportunity to climb down and move around his quarry. The wolfkin was still keenly aware of him, so he would have to pick his opening very carefully.

Just as he saw an opportunity, one of the noises that issued from the forest was one of his men. It seemed they had been bested. This would not do. Oryk turned and strode through the forest to find where the sound was originating. If those feeble old men could take one of his own, then he would have to kill them himself. But not before he cut the head off of the failure of a soldier who was crying out like a stuck pig.

Notching the arrow with a fluid flourish, Safia kept her bow steady as she scanned the area around her. She truthfully had little interest in bloodshed, killing only what was absolutely needed for food, but she had learned from an early age that she needed to be prepared to defend herself. She just wished that whatever it was that Laika had alerted on would reveal itself so she would have an idea of what they faced.

Bowstring and arrow held ready by three fingers, she continued her survey methodically searching for the slightest hint of movement. So focused was her scrutiny that the world around her seemed to go silent save for the overly loud thumping of her racing heart. She could feel the presence of something or someone, but she couldn't figure out where it was coming from.

Was it on the left? On the right?

Initially Safia thought perhaps it could be one of the men from the night before, one of the two who had stared at her so menacingly, but while their regard had been somewhat worrisome it hadn't left her feeling so alarmed. This made last night feel like the annoying buzz of a pesky gnat, and her lips parted as if to call out a challenge before she clamped them down hard over her teeth.

Was that limb on the tallest tree before them moving? Was that noise coming from behind?!

One moment she would've sworn they were in imminent danger of attack by some unseen beast, and the next that hair tingling, stomach churning sensation was gone.

Simply gone.

Taking what felt like her first breath in hours, she looked down at Laika and noticed that he too seemed to be shaking out muscles that had frozen under the strain. It was only then that the noises that had seemed muted penetrated her awareness, and she became aware of the yelps of pain and cries of horror behind them.

Wheeling around, Safia headed towards the sounds, bow in one hand and arrow clenched in the other with Laika bounding at her side. Something inside protested that they should be headed in the opposite direction, that whatever had been hunting them, and she most definitely had felt hunted, was in that direction, but she forced herself forward.

He found the weak link in his hunting party, still mewling like a fawn in a trap. His eyes went wide when he saw Oryk approach, and wider still when he cleft his head from his shoulders.

The orc's eyes narrowed as he scanned the clearing for the remnants of the old men's hunting party. Their footfalls were further off now. He let out a whistle to signal his remaining men to return to him. They appeared one by one from different areas, each grinning from ear to ear at the sight before them. Every death made and opening for better positioning in Oryk's army.

"Why is it that I still hear the footsteps of these feeble old men? Were they too swift for you? Should I look elsewhere for soldiers?"

"My liege, they are mortally wounded. They will not survive the night. Only two remain."

Oryk's brows knit as he considered the thought.

"Very well. Their guide is much more capable. I want you to find her, but do not kill her. The one who brings her to me will have first pick of the next carriage's spoils."

The gathered orcs hooted and thumped their chests before disappearing into the forest once more. Oryk knelt and examined the tracks left in the clearing, grinning as he stood. If his men could be trusted, she'd be his by daybreak.

They had made it about halfway towards the spot Safia had last caught glimpse of the beginnings of the hunting party when Laika suddenly veered off to her left, heading deeper into the thickening woods. Accustomed to deferring to his keener senses, she adjusted her course, never questioning where her faithful companion was headed, letting him take the lead.

This part of the Bloodbriar was particularly unforgiving for those foolish enough to abandon the rough path that had been trodden over the many years. It was hard to fathom what was driving Laika onward as he twisted and turned through the bramble. She did her best to stay on his heels, but struggled to keep pace because of the branches thick with thorns as sharp as her daggers and the underbrush teeming with the infamous briars that had given the area its very name.

Wincing when she had to push her way through a particularly dense section, Safia swiped at the warm trickle of blood that formed on her cheek, seemingly nudging a broken off thorn deeper into her skin. Seeing that Laika had stopped ahead, she didn't bother with trying to remove it, assuming she'd end up with more before they made it back to the path, and made her way to his side.

"What is it, bo....," she queried, trailing off as she caught sight of the bodies strewn against the ground.

Whatever, or rather whoever had attacked the party had been brutal... and efficient. Most had been struck in the back followed by a flurry of smaller wounds as if the attackers kept hacking away at the prone figures, but not a single one in the immediate vicinity looked like they had time to even draw their weapons.

"Longswords and daggers," she murmured as she went from body to body looking for survivors, knowing the chances were slim.

It was a sobering task that left her stomach churning from the sight and smell of all that coppery blood. Wiping her hands against the green and brown material encasing her body and leaving dark red stripes, she mentally clicked through the numbers and realized that there were some still unaccounted for, to include Rodric, at least one of the older men and the two who had left her uneasy.

Turning towards Laika, Safia was getting ready to speak when she heard a thrashing sound off to their right.

Rodric limped feebly along the path, multiple wounds oozing blood through his crudely fashioned tourniquets. The orcs had come from all sides while they were catching their breath and butchered them mercilessly. Those who didn't die were in the same predicament, tucking tail and running for their lives. He heard the hooting and laughing of the orcs in the forest, circling like sharks on chum.

"That damned guide got us into this me---GAHHH!!"

Rodric stumbled over a gnarled root and felt the bones of his ankle snap as he hit the ground. He cursed under his breath and tried to gather his strength and stand. The veins in his neck bulged as he attempted to put weight on his broken ankle and sank back to the ground. As he propped himself against a tree he heard more noises from the underbrush.

"Come kill me you cowards! I ain't scared of you!"

He was, but at this point the quicker his death, the less likely he was to suffer from infection or the sweltering heat.

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The orc soldiers tracked the woman, but found only one of the older humans. No signs of the remaining three. They were of no consequence anymore, but this one would still need to die. Wounded as they were, it was almost sad putting them out of their misery. As he expired, they heard a loud call in the opposite direction. Their feral grins widened as they strode through the forest in search of their prey.

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Rodric waited for his assailants to show themselves. Surely the orcs were near. But, what was that odd panting sound...was it their guide? Selena...Storya...what the Hell was her name?

"Over here. I...my leg...I can't walk. If you want the rest of your money...help me...damnit..."

He groaned as his weight shifted and put pressure on one of his more severe wounds.

Over here... I... my leg... I can't walk. If you want the rest of your money... help me... damnit...

The initial call for help was pitiful, causing Safia to move quicker through the bramble than she should have, earning several more deep scratches across her arms. She had already figured she wasn't too off from locating Rodric based on the hoarse comment about her money, but that was the only clue she had as the feeble voice was a far cry from the boastful bluster from the night before.

Unfortunately her first glimpse of his grey face confirmed what his voice had hinted, but she sunk to her knees nonetheless, her gaze quickly noting the various nearly saturated tourniquets.

"What happened," she asked quietly, slipping her bow across her back so she could better check out whatever was wrong with his leg.

"Fucking orcs...savages, the lot of them. And quicker than I remember. They came outta the damn trees...we didn't stand a chance. Where'd you wander off to anyhow? I thought you were...nggg..."

Rodric's face screwed up in pain as Safia examined his wounds. The blood draining from them had begun to saturate his breeches, the color of his skin blanching at the same time. He managed to open his eyes a sliver as he heard new noises coming from the forest.

"Damn it all...we're done for..."

The sounds of footsteps crunching on the thick undergrowth signaled the arrival of the three remaining orc hunters. They approached cautiously, well aware of the ferocity wolfkin possessed. Their movements flitted back and forth among the trees, daring the wolf to wander close enough for an attack, biding their time to see just what the woman would do.

Fucking orcs...savages, the lot of them...

Years of keeping her feelings contained kept the surprise from registering on Safia’s face as she listened to Rodric. Orcs? Already? They shouldn’t have stumbled onto them for at least another fortnight, and to have completely missed any sign that they were in the area wasn’t like her.

… And quicker than I remember. They came outta the damn trees...we didn't stand a chance. Where'd you wander off to anyhow? I thought you were...nggg...

Her fingers that had been so carefully holding his leg as she checked out his ankle tightened momentarily as her ears picked up rustling sounds, signaling someone or rather several someones approaching. The nearby low, threatening growl rumbling through Laika’s chest confirmed her assumption that whatever approached wasn’t friendly.

Damn it all...we're done for...

“No,” came her soft, but emphatic response. She was too close to finally achieving her dream to be stopped by the shadowy figures darting closer and closer.

Safia stayed crouched by Rodric as she carefully scanned the trees, assessing what they faced. Two orcs, no… three… crept closer and closer, although why they moved so cautiously after the barbarous way they had attacked the last group was beyond her. Bigger than her by at least a head and half, they moved with surprising agility despite their additional bulk. Bigger. Broader. Stronger. And probably a whole lot smellier…

This was not going to be easy.

Rodric, of course, would be of no help. As it was, she feared he didn’t have long to live, bleeding as heavily as he was. She and Laika could make a run for it, perhaps leading them away from Rodric. There was no one faster in the forest than them, not even the one who refused to call her daughter. She had proven that time after time, and she could do it again.

Brows knit, Safia looked at Laika, who kept his attention on the green-skinned figures while waiting patiently for her command. He would never leave her side with danger so close at hand, not unless given the command to attack. Taking a deep breath, she turned back towards the orcs as she rose to her full height and squared her shoulders. There would be no flight – at least not yet. Slipping her bow from her shoulder, she armed herself with an arrow as she sought an opportunity to even their numbers.

The trio sprang as one, swords arcing down toward their quarry. None would find purchase as the left orc was plugged with an arrow and the other two were knocked aside by the Laika, slamming into them with the force of a carriage and sending all three tumbling into the undergrowth. Hoots and snarls abounded as the two orcs regained their footing. They circled the wolf, searching for the upper hand.

"What are you waiting for you silly wench?! Shoot 'em!"

Rodric trailed off into a groan of pain as he watched. Soon the orcs would strike down the wolf...then the girl...then him. What a dismal way to die...


---------------

From the edge of the clearing, Oryk watched his men fumbling with the tracker's wolf companion. The next cadre of soldiers would be more disciplined, he'd make sure of that. For now, he had to hope that they weren't foolhardy enough to let their true target escape, or kill them from afar. Otherwise, he really would have to take matters into his own hands.

THWISH!! sang her bow.

The timing of their sudden attack couldn't have come at a better time.

WHOOSH! murmured the arrow as it arced through the air.

While she had yet to come across anyone with a better eye than her when it came to hitting targets, she wasn't so bold as to say the force behind her arrows was as powerful as most males. As it was, she had assumed she'd be able to render her target semi-useless, but between his jump and arch forward he effectively thrust himself right into her arrow's path.

THUNK!

Safia watched the orc's face register a brief moment of surprise before he fell to the ground, spewing blood from his throat and neck like a pent up river once felled trees were pulled clear. One down.... She turned, bow and arrow once more at the ready, towards Laika and watched as the other two orcs circled him, obviously looking for a way to strike him down.

What are you waiting for you silly wench?! Shoot 'em!

Her lips tightened at the unnecessary order, but didn't bother to respond. Laika was the only family she had, and she'd protect him with her life if need be and knew he'd do the same for her. Which is why she had to wait and see which way he'd erupt before letting loose her own lethal lobby.

And sure enough the circling became a deadly game of bob and weave as Laika would lash out with bared teeth whenever one of the orcs decided to make a move, the three of them constantly moving this way and that. She could tell a few of the sword swipes had scored by the blood dripping from her friend's sides, but he had too had drawn blood on the shorter of the attackers.

Deciding she had studied the dance long enough to know Laika's next feint, Safia turned her attention to the wounded orc. She couldn't risk another head shot as Laika was likely to strike high soon, but she could draw his attention to herself. There was plenty of room between them and she had more than enough arrows...

THWISH!! sang her bow once more.

Sure enough Laika launched himself forward, striking hard at the taller orc's chest and causing him to stumble backwards.

WHOOSH! murmured the arrow as it arced through the air.

'That's it,' she silently cackled as she watched the downward descent to her unsuspecting opponent.

THUNK!

The cry of outrage as the arrow struck home on an undefended backside caused Safia to laugh, although it was quickly choked off as murderous eyes turned in her direction.

"Forget about me, ugly?" she taunted, quickly notching another arrow.

The wounded orc growled in anger as he wrenched the arrow from his buttock, rage burning in his eyes. He left the wolf to his remaining companion, stalking forward to attack the elf. Every muscle in his body was tensed, prepared to dodge an incoming projectile. His eyes followed the tip of the arrow back to her shoulder, watching for the near-imperceptible moment when she would loose.

The battle between the last orc and Laika had taken a more feral turn than before. Both had blood dripping from their teeth, deep gouges ran along their flanks. Both were panting from exertion, tired yet unwilling to cede the victory. Another flash of movement was followed by a howl and a groan, the tangle of their bodies made it hard to discern who had struck the killing blow.

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"Dammit woman, shoot!"

Rodric felt his heart beating faster and faster, which only pained his side more. Surely, the fear would kill him before the orc could reach them. It seemed like slow motion, the stalking of the sinewy green man approaching them. The tension of the bowstring she held, the sound of grass rustling and leaves stirring in a breeze that he hadn't even realized before. Maybe it was the blood loss, but something about that moment was agonizing and beautiful at the same time. He was rent from that moment by the visceral sound of flesh being torn and an inhuman sound bellowing forth from just beyond them. Gods he hoped that it was the wolf that had won.

Swallowing hard when the orc yanked the arrow out and snapped it in half with a single clenching of his meaty hand before tossing it dismissively over his shoulder, Safia forced herself to keep her arms steady as he stalked towards her. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea on her part given how quickly he was closing the gap between them, but she hadn’t liked the strikes and blows that her faithful companion had been taking as he battled with two of those menaces.

As much as she wanted to look to see how Laika was faring now, she needed to focus on the approaching threat so that she didn’t somehow distract him. Much like the panicked “Dammit woman, shoot!” comment from her wounded employer nearly caused her fingers to twitch prematurely. Slowly blowing out a soft exhale, she let everything but the orc with the promise of her death in his eyes fade away, as she quickly measured the distance of every possible combination of disabling shots.

Just as she had decided on how many more steps the orc could take in her direction, an unearthly howl broke her concentration and caused her to momentarily look past him. Unable to tell who, if anyone, was still moving in the heap on the forest floor, she quickly fired off a succession of three arrows at her own target, alarm sweeping over her at the idea that Laika could be horribly wounded or worse dead.

Two arrows whistled by harmlessly while the third sank into the orc's shoulder, just below the collarbone. He grunted, stopped momentarily by the impact before proceeding on his murderous march toward the elven woman. The old man at her back seemed thrilled to see the shot connect, then dismayed to see that it had not felled him.

The orc grinned as he closed the last few feet between them, brandishing his blade menacingly. He did not want to give her a moment to react, but knew that he'd have to be careful with his strike. Oryk wanted her alive.

The sing of steel slicing through the open air was jarred by a snarl and the sound of flesh ripping free of bone.

"Graggh..Ack....."

The orc gurgled on the last of his life's blood, spitting curses at the woman and her damnable dog. His vision clouded and finally glazed over, the last issue of his breath a sigh of resignation.

Rodric could not believe his eyes. The wolf had won not once, but twice. What sort of hellborne beast was it, exactly? Not that he'd have much time to mull it over. Another pang ran the length of his spine.

"Well girl, you did it. You and your wolf. I don't think I'm going to be making it back to town. You should probably head that way. Hopefully I'll be dead before any more orcs decide to show. Or any hungry beasties...heh..."

He coughed up a bit of ichorous blood as he laughed.

----------------

From his vantage, Oryk grumbled to himself. Better training was needed. More discipline for his soldiers. This task he'd have to set to himself. He melted into the treeline, sure that he'd find her tracks once she decided to make for the Forest Trail.

As soon as the arrows released, Safia knew that she had been careless in her placement, that the probability of connecting were slim to none. She reached back to retrieve another arrow from her quiver, wondering if she’d have time to get another shot fired before the orc was upon her. Yes, she had her trusty knives, but her hand-to-hand skills weren’t nearly as good. ‘And your typical opponent doesn’t normally outweigh you at least four to one,’ a little voice said pessimistically in her inner ear.

Sure enough, the first two arrows sped on either side of the quickly advancing figure, both falling into the underbrush. The last arrow at least found purchase, even if it only embedded itself just under his left shoulder. He stopped for the briefest of moments, and she wondered if perhaps he was lefthanded and that she had actually increased her chances of being able to meet him on equal footing. A sudden intake of air behind her indicated that Rodric was thinking the same.

Perhaps that’s why she froze when the orc continued moving towards her, waving his blade around with the non-injured arm, of course, and wearing the sickest of grins as if he had counted multiple ways of killing her and was planning on doing them all. It wasn’t until his weapon was arcing towards her that Safia was able to throw off her paralysis, stepping backwards and grabbing for the knives at her sides, hoping she’d be able to fend off the blow.

She caught sight of a large blurry black shadow from the corner of her eye, and then it hit the orc before her with a throaty snarl, strong teeth savagely ripping into his throat and dropping both to the forest floor. Her heart soared at the realization that Laika had survived, but the fact that he did not get up right away warned her that he had not escaped unscathed. Totally ignoring the orc who weakly spat out words she couldn’t comprehend, she rushed over to Laika, dropping to her knees.

Well girl, you did it. You and your wolf. I don't think I'm going to be making it back to town. You should probably head that way. Hopefully I'll be dead before any more orcs decide to show. Or any hungry beasties...heh...

Murmuring quiet words of praise and thanks, Safia gently stroked the top of Laika’s head, the only part of his body not covered in blood. She could only hope that it was mostly from the orcs, but she saw at least a dozen wounds that would have to be tended to before they got infected. She watched closely as Laika pushed himself up, noting that the score across his left side seemed to be the worst of the lot.

But first…

She walked over to Rodric who looked even greyer than before, a trail of blood dripping from the side of his mouth, down his chin and onto his chest. It was apparent that he didn’t have much longer, his eyes already taking on that faraway stare as if he could see something in the distance, something only he could see. She debated a moment before sitting down beside him, patting her thigh to call Laika over. It didn’t seem right to let him die alone, so they’d stay until he took his last breath.

In his final moments, Rodric felt a bit ashamed of the way he'd treated Safia. She had a kind heart and even if his men had been a bit brash about her, she had shown her worth here today.

"Y'know...you're not so bad, girly...erg...ahem..."

He coughed another clot of blood onto his lap, reaching feebly for her shoulder. He patted her once before his strength left completely.

The sun had nearly disappeared behind the canopy as Rodric took his final breaths. It was rather peaceful in the forest now, though the remnants of the prior carnage still remained evident.

------------------

Oryk laid several meticulously crafted traps along the perimeter of the clearing. Signal horns were attached to some, while others were designed to set small fires, and others still had no purpose at all except to startle those unskilled enough to evade or disable them. After these preparations, Oryk set to sharpening a set of curved daggers. There were reversed blades on the spines of the knives, meant for rending flesh and leaving grievous wounds. He wanted them as honed as possible for when he inevitably met with the wolf.

Once he was satisfied with their keenness he laid in a makeshift cot fashioned from various fronds, leaves, and branches to get some rest, assured that at least one of his traps would alert him of her proximity.

Safia sat quietly, gently stroking Laika’s head as it lay pressed against her thigh. She wasn’t sure what to say to the older man as she had no words of comfort for him and so she said nothing. His eyelids would slowly drift down, his breathing become shallower and shallower, before his body would jerk and his eyelids would snap open and immediately search her out.

Y'know...you're not so bad, girly...erg...ahem...

She looked askance at Rodric as he reached out, and her mouth nearly dropped open in surprise at the soft pat he gave her. Apparently that last bit stole his remaining strength, though as his arm quickly fell to his side and his eyes closed for the final time. The shawdows creeping across the forest floor made it difficult, but not impossible to see when he finally took his last breath.

Sitting there a moment, Safia mulled over all the possible places she and Laika could go next. It needed to be someplace relatively nearby as she still wasn’t sure the extent of his injuries. However, it needed to be far enough away that should there be any more orcs in the area they’d be able to escape their notice. She’d need water to remove the blood that seemed to cake her skin and coat Laika’s fur. Food to regain his strength.

“Okay, boy,” she murmured, “I know where we can go.”

Petting his head in regret, she moved, forcing him to stagger to his paws. She started to stand, and then remembered Rodric carried her remaining funds. Telling herself that the money was owed to her, she leaned forward and felt inside his tunic until she located it. Pulling it out, she jiggled it in her palm, showing Laika the dingy pouch.

“This is it, my friend,” she said with a small smile, “Freedom.”

Laika moved forward, bumping her free hand with his head. She looked at him with concern, wondering if he was ready to make the journey to the cave she had determined would be their hiding spot. Listening carefully to the noises around them, she decided that it was safe enough for them to rest a little longer. Sitting back down, she motioned for him to lay down once more. Resting her bow on the opposite thigh, she kept vigil as the sun finally set and Laika rested.

------------------

The full moon was bright in the night sky when Safia decided they needed to get moving. There hadn’t been anything in particular that alarmed her, other than a nagging sensation that they needed to be as far away from this area as possible. The more she thought about it the more she became convinced that there had to be more orcs in the area. Yes, Rodric’s men had been woefully lacking in the discipline department, but she couldn’t believe that three orcs had decimated their ranks like had been done.

It was also a testament to how much Laika was hurting that he allowed her to take the lead as they began to quietly make their way through the clearing, angling for the far side that would lead to the quickest route to the cave. Insects hummed and chirped in the background, assuring her that no one was marking their passage.

As they neared the far edge of the clearing, she noticed something peculiar. Looking closer, she realized it was a trap, one that would have sent her flying forward had she not seen it. Hissing sharply, she cast about for other possible traps, dismay filling her at how many there were. Gesturing to Laika to be still, she quickly began to dismantle the two traps in their immediate path. Once satisfied that she had disabled them, she gestured Laika forward.

Three more times they repeated this dance. Spot a trap. Stop. Disable. Move forward. Spot a trap. Stop. Disable. Move forward. Spot a trap. Stop. Disable. Move forward.

Safia was worried now, more worried than she had been when the three orcs had first made their presence known. This was taking entirely too long, and she couldn’t believe they had managed to completely avoid all the traps earlier.

Just as she was thinking they were finally clear of the annoyances, she tripped and lurched forward, skinning her hands raw in the process of catching herself in the thorny underbrush. Her bow, slung across her back, came up and over her shoulder and bumped into a mound just inches from her face, which in turn snapped and shifted and a jarring sound trumpeted through the night.

It was late into the night before the blaring of a signal horn ripped through the relative peace of the forest. Oryk rose quickly and made note of the direction from which the sound emanated. The opposite side of the clearing, closest to the Forest Trail. Full of secret caves and hiding spots.

He checked the sharpness of his daggers before tucking them into sheaths at his sides, stalking into the darkness with a wry grin on his face. He took his time weaving in and out of the thick brambles and gnarled vines. Eventually he broke through to the clearing. The old human was dead, his body already attracting nocturnal predators. The stench of death lingered where his fallen soldiers lay, the tracks of blood growing fainter as the footprints of the elf and her wolf made a steady path to the opposite edge of trees.

Oryk found his first few traps dismantled, chiding himself on making them too simple. As he stalked onward into the denser foliage, his eyes caught a glint of moonlight. There were two likely paths from here. One to refuge in the maw of a cave that fed into a set of roughly hewn tunnels; the other a narrow stream that was fed by some unknown source bubbling up from beneath the forest floor. Their tracks were light and easy to lose in the scant light of the moon. He decided to check the stream first. Surely they'd want to tend their wounds before holing up for the night.

The howls and growls of the hunters of the forest made a chorus as he prowled onward.

Cursing under her breath, Safia rolled to her right to regain her footing as her eyes darted this way and that, looking for a sign of whomever had fashioned the traps. Not seeing an immediate threat, she finished scrambling to her feet just as the raucous noise was dying out. If she had thought she felt an urgency to leave before, it was nothing compared to the absolute certainty that they needed to flee the area now that she had been so stupid as to set off the alarm.

Deciding that speed was more important than stealth, she continued forward, brandishing her bow in front of her to push the thorny branches away. To her sensitive ears they sounded like a pack of wild boar thrashing through the thicket, but made no attempt to silence their flight. ‘Distance, we need distance,’ she told herself over and over until the words seem to run together.

She struggled to keep hold of the bow between the thorns piercing her palms and the wet, sticky blood that oozed from the many punctures. Each time the bow slipped, she’d tighten her grip, which simply drove the thorns in deeper and more blood to seep out. Concerned about her ability to weld her most deadly weapon if she didn’t remove the thorns, Safia altered their course, angling towards the stream they could use to wash away the blood.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the stream, and Laika immediately dipped his head in for several long swallows of water. As luck would have it there was a break in the treeline towering above them, which allowed enough moonlight to stream down to enable them to see more than just shadows and fuzzy shapes. She placed her bow on the ground beside her and leaned forward to dip both hands into the cold water.

“Let me get my hands clean,’ she murmured to Laika, “and then we can get you cleaned up.”

----------

The forest provided a familiar serenade as Safia finished washing away the last of the blood that had coated Laika’s side. Pursing her lips while she did a mental inventory of the herbs she always carried, she decided she had enough for a couple of days. Thankfully most of the blood had been from the orcs, but the wound in his side worried her. She would have to stitch it once they got to the cave, and then it would be a battle to keep him quiet to allow it to heal.

Turning her attention to her hands, she began the slow, tedious process of pulling out the thorns that had been embedded in her skin. She stopped counting them after ten, hissing as she tried to work out a particularly painful one that was almost dead center in her palm. If this one stayed in, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to draw properly, but it was also difficult to grasp as deeply entrenched as it was.

The sudden silence was jarring in its abruptness. Jarring and alarming. Immediately picking up her bow, Safia eased into the shadows of the trees, using her dark green and brown clothing as camouflage. Laika, as always, was by her side, on the alert.

The creatures stirring in the darkness gave Oryk a wide berth as he found his way to the stream. The moonlight cast long shadows everywhere, distorting the landscape. He crept through those same shadows, eyes darting across the area in hopes of spying his quarry.

He knelt at the babbling brook, sniffing the air. The tang of blood was faint, but there nonetheless. She had been here recently. He took a handful of water to drink, noting an earthiness to it; the source would have to be deep in the caves, a pressure-fed vein that made it's way here.

As he stood once more, a sound caught his ear. Perhaps a twig snapping under the weight of a foot, though hard to say whether quadruped or biped. A low growl rattled his throat. A few shapes moved and morphed in the aura of the moon, none coalescing into what he sought.

"You can only hide for so long. In fact, there's only one place you could go from here that would offer any sort of refuge. I tell you what. I'll give you a head-start. If you beat me there, you can rest for the night without disturbance. This is my territory, but I'm not entirely inhospitable. Even if you refuse my little game, that cave is still your best bet. Come on out and let me have a better look at you..."

His voice was full of confidence. Whatever decision she made, he'd have fun. Fight or chase, both were favorites of his.

Covered by the darkness, Safia watched as a large shadow crept across the forest floor, a shadow that seemed to grow in height and width with every passing second. So mesmerized by the ever-expanding dark herald, it took her a moment to grasp when she was looking at the shadow’s source. Swallowing convulsively at the realization that the nearby orc could be no other than Oryk himself, she watched in dismay as he sank to his knees by the water and seemed to sniff the air.

Willing him to move on as he continued to linger way too close by, she took an involuntary step backwards when he rose to his full height once more and nearly stopped breathing when something cracked under her foot. The answering growl raised goosebumps up and down her arms, and Laika pressed his head against her hand as if in comfort.

You can only hide for so long. In fact, there's only one place you could go from here that would offer any sort of refuge. I tell you what. I'll give you a head-start. If you beat me there, you can rest for the night without disturbance. This is my territory, but I'm not entirely inhospitable. Even if you refuse my little game, that cave is still your best bet. Come on out and let me have a better look at you...

Torn with indecision, Safia tried to figure out what to do. Even though he clearly knew about the cave, it would offer them the best protection as the opening was barely big enough for someone her size. Any orc who made the mistake of trying to squeeze in could be easily picked off, and with the wound to Laika’s side and that one thorn in her palm… well they’d need all the advantages they could get. Surely the two of them would be able to easily outpace something that big, especially since he had no clue what he was hunting.

‘Or did he,’ a little voice grumbled, worrying over the phrase better look.

Carefully signaling her intention to Laika, she surreptitiously drew an arrow and fitted it, wincing as the thorn continued to make its presence known. Sighting on a branch off in the distance, she offered a small prayer and let loose, hoping to use the falling branch as a temporary distraction. The arrow didn’t fly as straight as it usually did, but it still connected with the branch, driving it into the underbrush as if something or someone moved in that direction.

Oryk's ears pricked at the sound of wind whistling, followed by a branch cracking and hitting the ground. His head swiveled to the source of the sound, his feet pivoting as he stalked off in that direction. He ducked low and stepped behind a wide trunk, making motions as though proceeding into the undergrowth.

He hunkered down, waiting for his prey to move. She was clever, but he saw through the ruse. Time to find out how fleet she was. It was a quarter of a mile from here to the cave through the thickets of brambles and low-hanging branches. He had promised her a head-start, after all.

His eyes narrowed, muscles tensed and ready. The chase would be on soon enough.