The winter cold begins draining the life from my limbs. I knock an arrow, my fingertips already a darker hue from the freezing air. A hush falls over the forest and its blanket of ice and snow.
Not 30 paces from me stood the reason I had braved such harsh weather. A doe grazed on what little green has survived winter's icy wrath. Back home, in my modest cabin just outside the village where I was raised, I have stockpiled potatoes, onions, and other hearty veggies to last me the better portion of the season. Rabbits and smaller game help me to get by, and to rely less on my stock, but winter is only halfway through and what I've collected is already beginning to dwindle. A deer such as this, small as it may be, would help ensure I don't starve to death before spring.
I draw a deep breath and line up my shot. My arrow flies as I exhale, connecting with the target. I am no trained hunter, though. Instead of piercing the animal's lungs or heart to ensure a quick, painless death, it connects just further back into the beast's liver. Sloppy work.
Most of what I know of hunting comes from an old friend; Rolland. He taught me second-hand, as his family was wealthy enough to afford a variety of lessons, not just archery. I was lucky to learn to read and write before my parents shuffled off this mortal coil.
My dinner begins to run, leaving a trail of blood in its path. With any luck, and if The Nine are smiling upon me, I'll be able to track it to its final resting place before any wolves catch the scent of blood. Wolves, or worse.
"It couldn't have gotten far," I tell myself as the sun begins to set. I walk, following the trail of red, glancing to the sky to see both moons already beginning to climb in the fading light.
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What must be an hour passes. I am tired after a long day hunting, and the few rations that I brought with me are long gone. My senses begin to dull as exhaustion sets in, but I must see this through. Few things are as life and death as food in the winter. Few things...but I eat my words as I approach the stream where my doe has chosen to finally perish.
I freeze in my tracks when I see it. Knelt over the deer is a massive creature, its form obscured by the low light. Too big to be a wolf, perhaps even bigger than a bear. It looks...human, but furry. I've heard tales of the savage creatures that live in the wilderness. With the strength of ten men and the ferocity of a beast, an orc may just be the most terrifying thing one could bump into while hunting. Is that what I've encountered? I never pictured them so hairy.
This particular orc seems to be too distracted by the promise of a meal. Kneeling over the deer, but turned in my direction, it hasn't noticed me just yet. I take stock of what I have to defend myself with. Two arrows in my quiver, and a knife in my boot. What should I do? If the stories are to be believed the odds aren't in my favor, even if the orc is unarmed. Yet, I need this meat to survive.
There will be more deer to come. Or maybe I can make due on rabbits for a while. Alive and hungry beats the near-certain outcome of facing a creature like the one before me. I steel my will as I cautiously take my first step back. Not turning, but doing my best to place my foot in the very same hole in the snow that I approached with.
The monster stands slowly while I take my first step. I am truly a dead man.
I now take in the full height of this orc. Standing at what must be well over 6 feet tall the giant takes a calm step over the deer, hardly needing to adjust its gait as it does, and begins to approach me.
Panic sets in. I will myself to run but my feet refuse to move when suddenly it speaks to me.
A low, gravelly, but decidedly feminine voice says "Were you the hunter who slayed this animal?"
She continues to approach, the difference in our size becoming more apparent as she draws near. I can see now that it isn't her that is furry, but she is covered nearly head to toe in fur hides to keep warm. Just behind her head, the shape of an axe peeks out from over her shoulder.
I knock an arrow and draw it back. "N-no further, orc! I d-don't want to have to kill you." I've never been in a position such as this before, and it shows. My voice wavers even as I do my best to sound menacing.
The orc bellows a hearty laugh and continues her approach until she is only a few of her massive paces from me. Up close I can see her basil-green skin and dark black hair. Lines of red run down her cheek. Could they be ceremonial? For the hunt, or war? She is covered from chest to toe in thick furs, with the exception of her upper arm. Mitten-like gloves climb from her hand to her elbow, and her thick chest-piece ends at the shoulder. Her bicep is bigger than my head. Even lacking the definition that makes strength obvious at a glance I can determine without much effort that she is stronger than I could imagine. I begin to wonder how much of her current thickness is a result of the furs she wears, and how much is her body.
She closes the gap between us in but a moment as I am lost in my thoughts. I can see her exposed palm beneath her fur mitten as she reaches out to me, snatching the bow from out of my grasp, effortlessly breaking it in two with her bare hands. The snow cushions my stumble. I fall to my butt from the exchange and pull the knife from my boot.
"You are no threat to me, little hunter" she growls, bending at the waist to look down upon me. She towers over me from my position, like a parent scolding her child.
The tension builds as she bears her protruding bottom canines at me. The tension lasts only a brief second, cut short by the sound of crunching snow. In our exchange we both failed to notice a third party; five wolves now circled around us, clearly angling to take the meal that we all sought.
The orc sighs with deep disappointment. Her biceps contract and expand as she arms herself with the axe strapped to her back.
"Try not to get in the way," she commands.
I stumble to my feet, knife at the ready. Silence lingers until three wolves begin the assault, treading nimbly across the snow.
Two charge the orc - one of which leaps toward her face but is met with the chop of her axe, dead in the snow before the fight even truly begins. The other follows shortly after, instead attempting to nip at her ankle. A quick kick to the snoot yields a whimper as the wolf scurries back to its pack-mates to regroup.
The third wolf came after me. I swipe my knife at the predator the instant it comes within reach, narrowly missing as it faked me out. I stand face to face with a predator and it begins to circle me. I rotate with it, keeping my back to my tentative ally as best I can.
More wolves rush. All but one are now in the fray, snarling. My assailant lunges at me, and this time I dodge. I decide to cut my losses and run, leaving the orc as bait. I feel a pang of cowardice and look over my shoulder to see her swing her axe, keeping them at bay.
I have a good head start, and could easily use this opportunity to flee with my life intact. Yet, something is telling me to stay. That I shouldn't turn my back on this orc. She seemed so...human. The stories made them sound like savages. But she spoke to me. She didn't draw her axe until the wolves approached.
I stop dead in my tracks and tighten my grip on the knife, then turn to rejoin the battle. The orc is now completely surrounded by the four remaining wolves. She swings her axe broadly to keep them at a distance, but they're all locked in on her.
Keeping a low profile I do my best to sneak back into range. If I had my bow I would keep my distance and pick them off, but that isn't an option. None of the combatants notice my re-entry. Three wolves charge at the large woman at once and I seize this opportunity to get the jump on the remaining wolf. Literally.
Leaping out from behind the brush I land on the predator's back, wrap my arms around its neck, and bury my knife into its side. The animal thrashes beneath me, head-butting me in the process. Blood trickles out of my nose and I drag my still-lodged knife down its side as best I can. Eventually the wolf stops wriggling.
I look up to see the orc end another wolf. Clambering to my feet I feel a sharp pain in my leg. One of the remaining two wolves has my calf in its maw. I let out a blood-curdling scream simultaneously with the orc's remaining opponent. She ends the life of yet another wolf. The only assailant left is the one tearing at my leg.
That doesn't last long, though. My unlikely partner drops her axe and grabs both of its jaws in either hand to pull the wolf off of me. I close my eyes as it whimpers. I hear a snap, then a thud. The next thing I see is the animal running off, its lower jaw dangling loose. It will surely die before it heals, especially since it has lost its pack.
The reality of the situation sets in again. I'm in no shape to move with an orc towering above me. I hardly even feel the pain in my leg right now. Adrenaline courses through my veins, dulling my senses.
My battle partner kneels down next to me. Every instinct tells me to run, but my wound prevents me from moving much at all. Now that we're face to face I'm able to take in exactly how human she is. I noticed it already, but she isn't a horribly ugly and disfigured creature as I have been led to believe.
