Floerke his hunger sated stood up, his eyes returning to their normal shade of orange. Black armor coated in flecks of blood, he bent down and grabbed hold of his war axe and smiled wolfishly at the feel of the heavy piece of metal in his hands. Hearing the deep-throated growls of his brothers and sisters, he wheeled about ignoring the dead goblin at his feet with its stomach torn and saw a puny human running into the forest. Licking his wet lips at the prospect of more fresh meat, he hastened after it.

~ * ~

Entering the forest, Talmen headed east away from the fighting. Not exactly sure where he was going, he trekked carefully, ducking under tree branches and stepping over wide tree trunks, all the while making no noise. Walking alone in the darkness, memories surged forth from the furthest recesses of his mind. His father stood alone in a cave, with bright red flames all around him, he screamed with agony, his hands reaching out for him. His mother a short woman with dark brown eyes and graying black hair stood a couple of paces behind his father weeping and shouting for him to run. His eyes watered at the painful memory. Tears sliding down his mud darkened face, he wiped his cheeks and pushed back the memory. He couldn't allow himself to dwell on the past, he had to focus.

He forayed further into the vast forest, seeking shelter amongst the broad cedar trees and enjoying a long deep breath. The familiar pleasant scent of the trees calmed his mind. He thought again about climbing up a tree to wait out the night, but wasn't sure if any of these branches could support his weight. He paused to think for a moment, when he heard the unmistakable crunch of footfalls coming from behind him. Whirling around he saw the Orc that had killed the Goblin right in front of him. The Orc in blood splattered plate armor smiled; exposing its short blood stained tusks and brought up its battle axe. Terror stricken, he fled headlong into branches, tripping over rocks and tree trunks in his haste to get away. The Orc bellowed with excitement and gave chase, its long strides eating up the gap quickly.

Heart pounding and body quivering with fear, he ran and kept running; all the while tormented by a throbbing pain in his legs and shoulder. The heavy footfalls grew closer. Fear swelled up inside of him, as well as anger. Anger at his cowardice, anger at the world for taking his family, and anger at himself for always running away. Belly warm with anger he stopped running. He had enough of running. He faced the Orc, his orange-colored eyes lit with anger and mouth curled up in a snarl. The Orc, surprised by the move, slowed down and swung its axe upright ready to attack. It's hot breath misting in the cold air and flame-colored eyes staring back at him. The Orc hefted its war axe and prepared to strike.

Talmen, anger fueling his tired body, strode forward to meet the Orc, hands balled up into fists. The Orc hesitated for a brief second before swinging its axe overhead, aiming for his head. Ducking instinctively he threw himself against the Orc, hoping to knock it off balance. He slammed hard against the Orc's plate armored chest cutting his hands on its ridges and bouncing off the solid metal to hit the ground. He scrambled to his feet as the Orc attacked again, sweeping the axe towards his feet. He leapt backwards, losing his footing and falling to the earth again. The Orc walked forward, its orange colored eyes turning crimson as the bloodlust returned.

Heart fluttering with panic, he hastily tried to stand back up, only to slip and fall on something squishy beneath his feet. Almost in tears, he scurried backwards. The Orc loomed over him, its ruby red eyes hypnotizing him with fear, the axe head came swinging down fast. Left cheek twitching he rolled out of the way, the axe head planting itself in the ground, inches away from his face. He scrabbled around for anything to use as a weapon, his fingers scraping against rocks and leaves, when he felt something hard and cold. Not waiting to see what it was, he pulled the piece of metal out from the ground and swung it at the Orcs head, smashing one of its tusks and forcing it backwards.

It was then that he realized he had picked up a rifle, hope coursing through his veins. Praying that the blow to the Orcs head hadn't damaged the weapon, he shouldered the weapon and aimed it at the Orc's big, fat ugly face. He pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. The Orc chuckled, blood dribbling from its mouth and reached for the human. Cursing himself, he pulled the trigger again and again and again, each time hearing a soft click. The Orc grabbed hold of his neck with its rough, powerful hands and squeezed. His grip on the rifle weakened. He pulled on the trigger one... last... time... The front half of the rifle barrel exploded in his hands, spraying shards of metal into the Orcs face, neck and arms. Squealing with pain the Orc leapt backwards blood spurting from half a dozen wounds.

Getting to his feet gingerly, he shuffled over towards the squealing Orc, the broken rifle still in his blood-stained hands. And with a grunt of fury he shoved the jagged edge of the rifle barrel into the Orcs throat. The Orc collapsed to the ground choking to death on its own blood. Mentally and physically drained, Talmen settled down beside the dying Orc and noticed several fragments of metal lodged in his chest and arms. Too weak to do anything about that for now, he lay there panting taking mouthfuls of fresh air, relieved to still be alive.