The orc crouched in the shade of a bushy spruce. He was still breathing heavily after the battle. Tough kills, all of them. He certainly had to do justice for his daily piece of meat. With a crunch, he rent asunder one dead man's ribcage, using his sturdy broadsword. Contently, he crept under the spruce's hanging branches, munching on the fresh human heart.

The other two corpses were attracting crows. The birds skipped around the fallen warriors, ignoring the orc. They knew very well that the black-blooded one brought them food, but he was best treated with healthy respect. Still, they did not flutter away as he strolled from corpse to corpse, picking the tidbits and removing chainmail and helmets to give the birds free access.

Myahkiznakh did not think much. Mostly, he felt things. After his comrades had been killed, he thought even less. He had smelled the humans seven days ago, and decided to start tracking them. After that, he had acted and reacted purely on instinct. Something deep inside him felt lost and purposeless without the pack. Now, with a full stomach and aching muscles, his basic bodily needs silenced the restless spirit. He collected his weapons and went looking for water. The salty blood made his throat itch.

September rains had moistened the ground. The spruce woods bordered on marshland, and soon the orc found a chilly brook amidst yellowing ferns. He washed his clawed hands thoroughly. A fox screamed in the distance. He paused to listen.

It wasn't a normal bark. This was a fox in agony. He turned his broad nose to the wind and tried to catch a whiff. Humans? He shook the water off his hands and set out towards the noise. He was tired, but he did not want a hunting party to find his tracks. Sniffing, he trod on through the dark forest, swiftly and silently, though he was a heavy and broad-shouldered creature.