Two days had passed since Hermeti's death, and Borte was finally emerging from the fog of grief. Her voice, though soft, carried a hint of curiosity as she broke the silence. "Where are we heading?" she asked, her eyes drifting over the endless horizon after hours of aimless travel.

  Knez glanced down at her, a smile tugging at his lips. "Home. To my tribe." There was that smug gleam in his eyes again whenever he spoke of them, a fierce pride Borte knew all too well. The landscape had grown peaceful, a deceptive calm after the chaos they'd evaded.

  Earlier, they had maneuvered around smaller groups of human warriors also heading west. The most direct threat had been a confrontation a day ago, when they stumbled upon eight soldiers. The warriors took a defensive stance immediately, ready to fight for their lives. But Knez glared at them for a moment before slowly steering his gigantean eastward, gradually circling around them while maintaining eye contact. The soldiers adjusted their formation to match Knez's changing position, but the orc didn't stop to attack. He kept heading south, leaving the soldiers behind, stunned. Considering the orc's advantage from a mounted position, they had expected at least a few skirmishes. It was an unspoken rule that whenever orcs met humans, bodies dropped—which was even more reason why the soldiers held their defensive position long after Knez disappeared from sight.

  The breeze seemed to have come alive, as if bearing whispers from home. Knez hesitated, his voice tentative. "How are you... holding up?" Borte exhaled deeply, her chest tight. "I'm okay." He pressed on gently. "I'm sorry about your father." She managed a warm smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "It was heaven's will." Knez nodded, swallowing his own doubts. "There's no need to delay it anymore. Borte, welcome to the Mujin tribe. I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe." He pondered the weight of those words, could he truly protect her in this unforgiving world? Borte's laughter rang out, light and unexpected, easing the heaviness for a fleeting moment. "Then I'll be in your care." But silence soon reclaimed them, thick and unspoken.

  They navigated through the treelines and the last bit of green that separated them from the Taven mountain range. The view was breathtaking, Ancient rocks towering into the clouds. Knez halted the gigantean at the base, a wave of relief washing over him. 'Finally, home.' But a shadow stirred from the rocks, a figure emerging that set his heart racing. No alarm needed, it was Champa. Knez smiled. "Brother, waiting to welcome me?" He shook his head teasingly. "Or just on guard duty?"

  Something was horribly wrong. Tears streaked Champa's dirt-smeared face, carving lines of sorrow. His lips parted, but words failed him; guilt twisted his features. He felt like a coward, a betrayer. Under Knez's puzzled stare, he finally choked out the truth. "What happened?" Knez demanded. "And where's Herg?"

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  Champa steadied himself, voice cracking. "We were raided... by an orc tribe. A day ago. Everyone... taken. I escaped with Herg's help, but they got him too."

  Each word pierced Knez like a blade, agony ripping through his heart. His breath came in heavy gasps, as blood surged to his chest. Borte's gentle touch grounded him momentarily; he forced slow, deliberate breaths. But memories flooded in, all the hardship he had put himself through to preserve what remained of his tribe and the resolve he still had to sacrifice much more. He slid from the gigantean, needing solid earth beneath his feet to anchor the rage. "Which way did they go?" Champa wiped his eyes roughly. "They didn't go far, they just crossed the mountain and camped on the other side." Knez looked at him, fire burning in his eyes "Show me".

  Champa hesitated but inevitably led him up the treacherous slopes. Borte trailed behind, head bowed, exhaustion and despair weighing her down like chains. They stopped by a huge cave hidden deep in the mountain, it was their tribe's temporary camp as they waited for their chief's return.

  Knez stepped into the dark cave. His nose stung from the metallic scent of blood overwhelming him. His eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, but soon he saw the horror: the walls and ground were smeared with blood. The belongings of his tribe were scattered all over the floor. He struggled to comprehend what had really happened.

  He turned to Champa, who picked up a pouch and handed it to him. "This is yours." Knez accepted it; it was his hunting pouch. "What really happened here? The orcs..... did this?" Champa nodded, voice hollow. "We fought back, but they outnumbered and overpowered us. The younglings were captured, young females were dragged away... but the elders..." He trailed off, the implication hanging like a noose. No use for "old hags." "Mother Ural too," Champa whispered.

  That name shattered Knez utterly. What fragments of his soul remained crumbled to dust. Yet, eerily, calm settled over him, an unnatural facade masking a brewing storm. A chilling smile crept across his face, sending Borte and Champa retreating instinctively. His eyes were voids, empty and terrifying. "Show me their camp." His voice rolled out, evoking a primal dread Borte couldn't describe. It was already night when they reached a point from which they could see the camp on the other side.

  Knez sat down. From that vantage point, all they could see were the shapes of pitched tents and the glow of campfires. He stared at the camp unblinking. His fingers drummed subconsciously on the pouch hanging around his waist, a rhythm of restrained fury. Silence enveloped them, broken only by his occasional teeth-gnashing snarls. Borte and Champa kept distance, watching his face twist in torment. They tried to stay awake, but sleep soon swept them off their feet, they were too physically and emotionally drained.

  Knez remained vigilant, the fire in his gut fueling his vow.