Femi marched with the warband caravan, the human prisoners corralled in the center under heavy guard. Their arms remained bound, ropes leashing them to the creaking wagons. Hours bled together under the twin suns' glare, time slipping like sand through his fingers.
When Femi stumbled, he scrambled to his feet before the guards could react. "He thought he wouldn't be tied up if he joined them. Isn't this unfair?" he seethed silently. But Varga hadn't answered him earlier, and speaking aloud now risked a blade to the tongue. He bit back his frustration, grumbling under his breath as he forced his shorter legs to keep pace.
The prisoners shuffled in their chains, their uneven footsteps kicking up snow. One man stumbled, lagging behind, and grumbled something under his breath, which caught the attention of a green-skinned warrior. The warrior eyes narrowed, and with a swift motion, he seized the man by the collar.
"We are not orcs," he snarled, "we are krags decendant of Kraggoroth! And we do not tolerate defiance from humans!" He lifted the prisoner and slammed him against a tree.
A hand clamped around the warrior's wrist. Varga's voice cut through the cold. "The boss won't be happy with broken goods." Her glare was iron. "Drop him." The Krag hesitated, then let the man fall, spitting in his face before shoving him back into line.
"Note to self: Never call them orcs," Femi thought.
The caravan pressed deeper into the forest, snow crunching underfoot. The pines loomed taller here, their branches weaving a cage of shadows. Femi's skin prickled. The wind coiled around his ears, whispering like restless spirits.
Varga returned to his side, her grip firm on the tether. Up close, her stature was clearly smaller than the other krags, who stood well over six feet, but still towering over Femi. She was perhaps five feet tall; he barely reached her waist. "Three feet eight inches of uselessness," he thought bitterly.
She walked in silence, her presence as inscrutable as the shifting woods around them.
As he trudged onward with the other prisoners, the cold wind bit at him, making him shiver. "Ah, damn this cold," Femi thought, recalling the armor he'd worn in the dungeon. "I wonder what happened to it. Probably stripped off me by the traders."
His face was numb, and his fur did little to keep him warm. He could feel himself nearly frozen. He turned his head and looked up at Varga. Noticing his gaze, she stared back.
Femi asked in his most polite voice, "Would you mind sparing me a cloak to keep me warm?" He tried to sound respectful, but the female krag warrior snorted.
"If you can't survive this mere cold, then you should just die now. You're of no use to us."
"Ah, what kind of wickedness is this?" Femi thought. "Did I offend her? Is she taking her anger out on me? Who hurt her?" He wanted to say, "A beg, no be me hurt you," but he knew better than to voice that aloud.
He considered asking Varga about their customs but doubted she'd answer. Instead, he kept quiet and marched on.
---
The warband slowed as the twin suns dipped below the jagged peaks, painting the snow in hues of fading embers. The land here was flat and open, bordered by a half-frozen creek that gurgled weakly beneath its icy crust.
Aerius raised a fist, and the column halted in seamless unison.
Two scarred, older Krags stomped out a wide circle in the snow, packing it down with their massive boots. Others drove sharpened stakes into the ground at intervals, lashing them with gut cord adorned with bone charms that clacked in the wind. A trio of younger warriors dug shallow depressions with their bare hands, lining them with stones pried from the creekbed. Not a branch or dried tuft of grass was wasted; each was placed for maximum burn.
A ring of sharpened wooden poles was planted point-up in the snow, angled inward. The captives were shoved inside, their breath steaming in the rapidly cooling air. Femi noted the position, it was close enough to the fires to prevent freezing to death, but far enough to feel the wind's bite. "Psychological torment as much as physical," he thought.
The creek water moved sluggishly, its surface a mosaic of ice and dark, pebble-studded currents. Krags took turns breaking the thinner ice with their axes, filling waterskins and scrubbing blood from their armor. The smarter ones drank upstream; downstream, another group butchered a scrawny deer, its entrails tinting the water pink as they were rinsed.
Varga claimed a flat rock by the water's edge, her axe flashing in rhythmic strokes. Every few passes, she tested the edge against her thumb, green skin parting easily. She'd smirk, lick the blood away, and continue. "That woman is not okay," Femi thought.
Talon lurked near the prisoner pen, pretending to check bonds but lingering too long near a sobbing human woman. Goruk noticed and cuffed him hard enough to rattle teeth, growling something about "Grimvar's share_"
Aerius stood apart, staring north where the mountains formed a broken-toothed silhouette. His nostrils flared as if scenting something on the wind. One hand rested on the iron-capped tusk at his jaw. Femi didn't know why, but it made him uneasy.
Over the largest fire hung a blackened pot, filled with a stew of melted snow, dried meat, and scavenged roots. The smell was gamey and thick with marrow. Femi's stomach growled despite itself.
When the ladle came around, the Krags ate first, then the prisoners. Femi caught the way Aerius watched him lap at his portion, those crimson eyes unreadable.
"This guy is making me uncomfortable," Femi thought.
As night fully claimed the camp, the wind rose to a howl. The bone charms danced on their cords, their clattering nearly drowning out the low, rhythmic chanting from the Krags' side of the fires. A war hymn or a prayer, Femi couldn't decide. But he memorized every word regardless.
---
The campfire's glow painted the Krags in flickering shadows as Femi hit the dirt. He settled down, gazing at the stars after being dragged about all day. The night sky felt strange and alien, yet it made him feel free even tied up as he was. On his back, he stared at the glittering dark when a boot slammed into his temple.
"My head!" The sharp pain startled him. Varga loomed above, her shadow blotting out the stars.
"The boss calls you," she said. She didn't let him respond. Grabbing the rope binding him, she hauled him forward like a sack.
She dragged him toward the firepit where Aerius lounged on a log, Goruk at his shoulder like a stone pillar. A half-circle of Krags flanked them, spears planted in the dirt.
Varga threw him. The world spun, snarling faces, the sick lurch of weightlessness, before the ground slammed into him. His shoulder took the brunt, pain exploding down his arm in a white-hot streak. A grunt punched from his lungs.
For a heartbeat, he just lay there, tasting dirt and blood. Then the anger came.
Femi had had enough. "My friend, are you mad?" he spat at Varga, voice raw. "Is something wrong with your head?"
Varga's face hovered inches from his. Her green eyes stabbed into him. "You want to die, rat?" He wanted to flinch back, but if he did, this would never end.
His eyes blazed with dark determination. "If na fight you want," he growled, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper that carried through the suddenly silent camp, "I will beat you today." His claws clenched, the ropes around his wrists straining.
Varga sneered, her lips curling in amusement at his bold claim. She rolled her shoulders, the firelight glinting off the knives at her belt. "This rat thinks he can bite," she mocked.
The air grew thick with tension, so heavy Femi could almost taste it. The Krags formed a loose circle, their spears glinting in the firelight. Aerius leaned forward on his makeshift throne, his grin widening as he watched the confrontation unfold.
So Femi held, brown eyes locked onto green.
Aerius's laugh erupted behind them. Goruk joined in, then the other Krags. "Good to see you've got fire," Aerius said, still chuckling. "Soft-belly rats don't last here." He flicked a glance at Varga. "Tomorrow, you take him hunting. Let's see if he fights as hard as his mouth."
"Eh?" Femi's anger snuffed out. "You say what? Hunt? Hunting who?"
All eyes turned to Aerius.
The boss just smiled.