Orc

A smattering of dust blew over the moorland. Wind whipped down from the range of barren crests that rose like broken teeth ahead of Gaff. His skin was lathered in a profusion of sweat, causing the hides he wore to stick and cling as he trudged over the peaty soil. It had been too long since he had eaten, but he had to push on nonetheless. He had to put distance between himself and the slavers who had abducted him from his village.

With little more than belligerence he proceeded across the damp swath, deciding to rest before he attempted to surmount the naked ridge before him. Sitting upon a large rock, he rested his head in his hands as the dust blew down around him, turning to smears of mud when it contacted his damp skin. In many ways he was profoundly uncomfortable. Hungry, covered in grime, his feet ached despite tough soles, and his spirit — though buoyed by his escape — was undermined by the ordeal of his flight and the subsequent trek. His experience of captivity had done him no service, either.

At last he arose and began the laborious climb. Clawing at the bare earth, even as his powerful legs propelled him up the slope, he quickly wearied, so that he stopped again to rest at the summit. Gazing back the way he had come he saw riders in the distance. He cringed at the thought that he was being pursued. Yet was it so shocking to believe? No. He had expected it; still, he held out hope that the equestrians were human. Anything but elves.

Dwarves would have been a relief; of course, they plainly were not Dwarves.

Summoning the last of his verve, he trudged across the bald ridge-crests. They were thankfully few, and their crowns were punctuated with scrub juniper and stunted shrubs. At the opposite slope he peered down into a wide valley populated by a dense grove of pine, interspersed here-and-there with wide, leafy, deciduous trees. In the distance, there must have been a mountain, for the canopy seemed to rise, looming above the rug of foliage that extended before him.

He did his best to slide down the declivity into the woodland.

It was a blessing, a place to hide — even though the elves were talented woodsmen. But he would have to be quick about it; his pursuers — if pursuers they were — would be vastly out-pacing him. The crests would slow them down, maybe even halt their mounts…

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