Knez wore the chief's ank over his shoulders like a colorful badge of defiance as his tribe vanished out of sight, their footsteps slowly fading into the rustle of leaves. He promptly took a defensive stance, legs firmly planted on the ground, a grin sat across his tusked face despite the internal tumoil raging within, he streched out his hands, straightening up properly to occupy more space, effectively blocking the path forward with a spear in hand ready to strike. The sound of galloping hooves filled the background, then silence returned relutanctly as the dust slowly settled.

  The rival orcs reined in their mounts, skidding to a halt at the sight of a lone youth in a chief's furred coat, standing before them with that unnerving smile that only broken things could ever hope to replicate. Their Gigantean snorted, stamping the ground; these where one of the few beasts that could safely carry the weight of a full grown orc, standing seven feet tall and weighing roughly 3300 pounds, the orc's beautiful brown rides where built like Tarpan horses but not quite. The riders exchanged wary glances—no one rode past the boy, such brazen oddity demanded caution. "Who are you, boy?" the lead hunter growled, his voice lanced with restraint.

  "A chief," Knez shot back, his tone sharp and raw. "Where are your manners, warriors, or have you no eye?".

  On hearing this, the heads of the warriros snapped back in unison, bellowing laughter that echoed through the trees. "A boy claimin to be a chief? What a miserable tribe yours must......".

  But before the warrior could complete his sentence, a spear whistled through the air, embedding into the leader's shoulder with a wet thud. He toppled from his mount, groaning as he hit the dirt, blood trickling down from the wound; on seeing this the rest of the orcs tensed up, axes raised and eyes narrowed to concentrate. But now they felt it—a heavy pressure radiating from the youth, like the weight of an unseen gaze, something primal and beyond their grasp. Observing their reaction, Knez sensed subtle hesitation, he chuckled out loud, the sound unhinged and echoing in his own ears. But that wasn't enough, he slammed his foot down with all the strength he could muster, the earth trembled slightly under the impact, claiming the ground as his own.

  The warriors traded uneasy stares as their leader hauled himself up, tusks grinding, and yanked the spear free with a hiss of pain, blood dripped from the wound in rhythmic patterns—two drops per breath, Knez's mind noted unbidden. all eyes where now locked onto him, the injured orc charged forward in a blur, fist swang in an heavy arc. Knez dodged the first, the wind of it brushing his cheek like a hot breath—but he countered swiftly, his own fist cracked into the leader's jaw with a sharp snap, tusks rattling as the orc staggered back a step. The second punch came from an angle, using the injured arm, the orc warrior caught the young chief off guard, hammering into his gut, the impact swept him off his feets as air exploding from his lungs. Knez quickly scrambled up again or atleast he tried to, only for another crushing blow to slam into the side of his head, distorting his vision, before darkness swallowed him whole.

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  He regained conciousness swaying from the back of a Gigantean, ropes biting into his wrists and ankles. A quick glance around brought a deep ragged exhale of relief—no familiar faces among the captives; he was alone. His head was pounding like a war drum, each jolt of the ride brought with it fresh spikes of pain that threatened to split his skull. atimes he couldn't really tell if he was awake or still asleep. Faint noises drifting from ahead soon captured his attention—grunts, laughter, the crackle of fire, mingled with an arid scent that stung his nostrils. Beyond the horizon, a line of smoke curled skyward, twisting like a serpent. The sounds grew louder and more clearer, then the Gigantean slowed, hooves thudding to a stop amid a sprawl of tents and tusked faces.

  The leader dismounted, violently yanking Knez down. The young chief hit the ground hard, groaning as his thoughts raced unchecked, the orc payed him little attention, communining with the rest of his hunting group before hauling Knez up by the ropes and dragging him toward a massive central tent. Guards at the entrance nodded and gently parted at the sight of the hunter.

  Inside the tent, the cold from outside gave way to a smoothing warmth. At the far end of the makeshift room loomed a bulky orc, flanked by others no less fierce, their eyes gleaming with predatory hunger.

  The hunter bowed low, dropping Knez to the dirt floor. "Chief," he rasped, "we found another tribe near camp. Rode 'em down, but this boy—claimin' he's their chief—attacked us." He paused, sweating profusely. "and we lost sight of the rest in the commotion."

  The chief's amusement rumbled like distant thunder. "A boy took on five seasoned hunters?" He eyed Knez, flames reflecting in his gaze. "What is your name?"

  Knez lifted his chin, muscles straining against the ropes as he straightened. "I am Ta Knez, chief of the Mujin tribe."

  The tent erupted in roars of laughter. The chief turned to the hunter. "Don't tell me this... runt, is why you came back empty-handed?"

  The hunter bowed deeper, clutching his wounded shoulder under the chief's scorching glare, then backed out with muttered apologies.

  The chief's focus snapped back to Knez. "Boy, I'm Yami Jamuka, chief of this tribe. You trespassed on my ground and wounded my kin. For that, you will remain with us a captive till you pay for your sins, either by sweat or blood. I Don't know how you got hold of a chief's ank, but that won't save you." Jamuka looked at the warrior by his left, "Cage the runt and rip the coat off him—it's an eyesore."

  An orc immidiately lunged forward, and tore the furred coat free with a rip of fabric. Knez was dragged out, heels scraping the dirt, and shoved into a crude cage of lashed bones and iron bars.

  Knez now held in confinement slumped against the bars, exhaustion washing over him in waves, however the movement of shadows in the cage starred him again. The dim lights of the moon outlining the faint figures of two orcs. Then the scent of the metallic tang of old blood hit his nostrils as chains clinked softly. He closed his eyes, too tired to investigate as the day's events replayed in hyper-sharp fragments, taking what little peace he could find.