RANULF
The orcs have made camp. The patrol is eight strong and further bolstered by another five human warriors. A fire burns low in their circle. They have a keen sense of smell, not quite on par with a wolf, but certainly better than a human, and we’ve been careful to stay downwind lest they catch our scent.
I rumble low in my chest as I survey them through the trees. At my side, Alden and Beric bristle with similar frustration.
“I believe your brother hates you,”Beric says.
“I believe my brother hates me too,”I admit. “The bastard must want me dead.”
“No,”Alden says. “It is merely a challenge.”
Well, no arguing that!
“And when we finish this—as we will,”Alden continues, “it will be a tale worthy of legend, as befits the pack leader’s brother.”
My wolf rolls his eyes. “I’ll be fucking dead. Not much of a legend then.”
Beric chuffs a chuckle. “A hot, fertile woman’s scent still clings to you,”he says dryly. “It is driving my wolf fucking nuts. The old gods themselves could step down and challenge us, and we would prevail.”
The ridge of fur along my back rises at his words. Nothing will come between us and our goal. Not these fucking orcs, nor the weak humans who fight at their side.
Still, that does not diminish the magnitude of the battle ahead.
I lay out the plan in my mind, showing Alden and Beric what I wish them to do.
Our greatest strength lies in our pack bond, and fighting together. But first, we must make them believe there are more of us. Scatter them. Separate them. Then take them down one by one.
They agree. Beric slinks low and pads to my right. Alden lifts his snout, scenting the air before he moves off to my left. Once they are in position, I throw back my head and howl.
They take up the call. They are still howling when I dart into the undergrowth, circling wide before howling again. We repeat the pattern—voices blending with the wind—skirting the camp, drawing closer between each howl until I am almost upon the camp, and take in the scene.
Panic prevails. The orcs stagger this way and that, weapons drawn, eyes wide.
“I told you not to come into this region,” one of them grunts. “The shifters here are crazy bastards. The pack’s a hundred strong.”
“It’s not the whole pack,” another orc snarls.
“I didn’t sign up to take on wolves,” a human man grits out. “We were snatching lasses, nothing more!”
So that was their game. Preying on the townsfolk of Merrywood. Bastards. The place will be safer without them lurking around.
“Something is out there,” another human says. He stares into the forest like he senses us, while his gaze is fixed where none of us are.
Idiot!
“Of course there is something out there,” an orc growls. “My ears work as well as your human ones, probably better! Hold the line. They won’t attack where there’s fire.”
I laugh under my breath.
“What does he think we are? Fucking dogs?”Alden grouches.
“I say we make a run for it,” another human stammers, shifting his grip on his axe.
“No one is running,” an orc snaps.
“Well, I’m not sitting here waiting to be torn apart!”
The fool makes a step as if to run. A nearby orc slams a club into him. He crumples.
