As night fell, the air was thick with the rich scent of pine and earth, and the occasional rustle of nocturnal creatures added a layer of unease. A dense forest stretched out around our camp, the trees casting long shadows in the flickering firelight. The air was filled with the chirping of crickets and the distant calls of nocturnal birds.

I sat by the fire, savoring the last bits of rabbit stew. I gave the last bite a weighty lip smack and considered licking the bowl. There was a little left in the pot, but I didn't want to be the one to finish it off until the others had a crack at it. Not much for tooting my own horn; this actually had some flavor, and it had been enhanced with the help of some salt.

I had long dreamed of creating a cookbook on earth. Back on earth, I had created dozens of recipes from scratch. Maybe I would have a chance while I was here.

The meal's warmth and the camaraderie of the group had lulled me into a sense of security. What was there to fear when I had a group of battle-hardened men and women around? That illusion broke when I caught sight of Caden's suddenly tense posture.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword.

I strained my ears, trying to pick up whatever had alerted him. At first, all I heard was the crackling of the fire and the soft murmur of conversation around camp. Then, a twig snapped in the darkness beyond our circle of light.

Caden was on his feet in an instant. "Something's out there," he announced, just loud enough for the others to hear.

I scrambled up. The calm of the evening evaporated as soldiers reached for weapons and extinguished fires. Our cozy camp transformed into a tense, battle-ready unit in moments. After the escape from Morthisal’s fortress, I’d seen nothing in the way of battles, beyond a couple of soldiers almost coming to blows at the healer’s camp.

"Varix, stay close," Caden muttered as we moved toward the edge of the camp.

I nodded, wishing I had more than a small knife at my belt. Not that I could do anything with a sword, but at least it would be comforting if two-headed creatures from hell attacked us.

As we peered into the gloom, shapes began to materialize. My breath caught in my throat as I recognized the hulking forms, accompanied by smaller, nimbler figures.

"Orcs!" the watch shouted behind us. "And goblins!"

“Ready weapons!” another voice yelled.

“To arms! To arms!” Mira, one of the female warriors, shouted and pulled steel.

The shapes solidified as they stepped into the dim light cast by our remaining fires. A band of orcs, their green skin mottled with scars and war paint, stood before us. Beside them, goblins darted back and forth, their eyes gleaming with a mix of fear and excitement.

The orcs were a sight to behold. Their muscular bodies were painted in a mix of colors—some smeared with reddish hues that looked like blood, others decorated with symbols and charms made from bones and teeth. Their eyes glowed menacingly in the firelight. The goblins, like Lady Churl, were wiry and quick, with large, expressive eyes that darted around restlessly. They wore patchwork armor that clinked softly as they moved.

Every orc and goblin bristled with weapons. Axes, clubs, and crude swords glinted in the firelight.

The soldiers around me drew their swords with a collective hiss of steel. The sound sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of fear and something else – a memory of power I no longer possessed.

"Filthy greenskins!" one of our soldiers spat. "Crawling out of your holes now that your master's dead?"

"Go back to the pit you came from, you ugly bastards!" another yelled.

I winced at their words, knowing I had once been that master, sort of.

One of the orcs, larger than the rest, stepped forward. His scarred face twisted into a sneer as he surveyed our group.

"We hunt food! Say word...amnesty! That’s what pale king promised!" he rumbled, his voice like barking gravel.

“No amnesty for greenskins!” a burly warrior named Doan bellowed and hefted a huge double-headed axe.

"No fight! We hunt!" the orc snarled.

"I'll hunt your head," Doan snarled back.

The pair stared daggers at each other.

I looked between the parties and decided to do something stupid. I quickly raised my hands until I stood between them, but I was still in the light of the campfire.

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“Hey. Hey guys. Let’s talk about this?” I spoke.

“Varix. Get out of the way,” Caden motioned with his lame hand for me to move.

I took a deep breath, trying to channel some inner diplomacy I wasn't sure I possessed. "Gentlemen and... uh, orcs," I began, my voice shaking slightly. "Let's take a moment to consider our options here. We're all just trying to survive, right?"

The orc leader grunted, his yellow eyes narrowing. "We hunt. Need food."

"And we need... to not be eaten," I countered, earning a few nervous chuckles from both sides.

“Orc no eat human! Too tough and stringy. Like dog!”

“Here now!” Doan bellowed.

"Show me the lie," I said under my breath, then looked up. “Easy, gents.” I looked the orc over. “And I use that term loosely.”

The orc growled at me, and a couple of goblins advanced with spears lowered.

Inspiration struck, and I cleared my throat dramatically. "You know, a wise man once said, 'Can't we all just get along?'" I paused, waiting for recognition. Nothing. Tough crowd. "Look," I continued, "there's plenty of game in these woods for everyone. We don't need to fight over it. In fact, I make a mean rabbit stew. How about we share some tips on hunting and cooking instead of, you know, killing each other?"

The orc leader tilted his head, considering. "You make good stew?"

"The best," I assured him, ignoring the incredulous looks from my companions. "Tell you what, how about we point you towards a great hunting spot we found earlier? It's just over that ridge. Plenty of rabbits, maybe even a deer or two."

“Try stew!"

I stopped, shocked. “Really?”

The orc stared at me impassively before nodding once.

“You want to taste my cooking?”

“Try stew!”

As mad as it sounds, I was more than a little excited that someone else wanted to try my cooking, even if it was a huge orc who looked like he was a Lord of the Rings reject.

“Okay, buddy. Wait here.” I moved toward the fire but stopped and looked between both parties. “Don’t kill each other for two minutes. Got it?” I held up a finger to show these guys I meant business.

This time, Doan, with the huge ax tightly gripped in both hands, growled at me.

I quickly retrieved the dregs of the stew still in the pot and pushed the few tubers and chunks of congealed meat around in the bottom of the pot. A couple of peppers remained. I shoved them to the side so I didn't piss off the orcs with one bite.

I returned with the pot and offered it to the orc leader. He took a lumbering step forward, and I realized I recognized this dude. He’d been in the damn throne room when I’d been thrown into Morthisal’s body. Son of a…!

What was I going to do if he somehow recognized me? As a last resort, I could urge everyone to fight, and maybe the orc leader would be killed. That would leave my friends either dead or wounded. A sense of self-preservation was also present. I didn't want to die here.

The others tried to peer into the pot, but the orc shoved them away. He sniffed, stuck a finger inside, and tasted the stew.

“Hmm.”

The orc tipped the pot up and drained the remains. He lowered it and crunched on something. Stopped. Crunched again. Something like a smile creased his lips. He dug inside the bowl, withdrew one of the peppers, and ate it. Slowly. His eyes closed to slits. He was... savoring this?

“Heat... Good heat!” the orc finally said.

"You like the peppers?" I asked.

"Heat. Good heat! Need more heat!"

Why was I even surprised that the orcs loved hot peppers?

“Yeah. Glad you liked it. Now, can we call a truce? You guys will find plenty to hunt over there. We’re leaving in the morning. Early bird gets the worm and all that jazz."

The orc regarded me silently for a minute. I worried he was about to announce that I was the Dark Lord Morthisal! He finally spoke in his gravelly voice. “We hunt there! No fight today! Maybe fight tomorrow!"

“How about no fight tomorrow? Maybe fight in a week. Better yet, in a few months.”

“You have funny speak! You cook good! Heat good!"

“Thanks, big guy.” I offered my hand.

The orc stared at it before turning away.

As the orcs and goblins shuffled off, I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. Caden clapped me on the back, nearly knocking me over.

"Quick thinking, Varix," he said, grinning. "Though I'm not sure where you got that 'wise man' quote from."

I laughed nervously. "Oh, you know, just something I picked up long ago, presumably." I shrugged.

The orc must have had second thoughts. He came back alone. The others tensed, but I went out to meet him.

“Can I take your order?” I asked him.

The Orc’s lip curled up. Was it… he grinning?

“We buy more stew!"

My mouth dropped open.

“Buy stew! More stew! More hot!"

"We're fresh out. That's all we had."

"Make more!" The orc pulled out a bag and shook it, and the melodic sound of coins rattled within.

"Varix. Leave off. Don't encourage that…thing," Doan said sharply.

I held up a hand and winked at Doan and the others.

“I’m sorry. You want me to cook stew for you, and you’ll pay?”

“Stew for all! Five orcs! Wait... Six... No. Bogrun die yesterday! Five! Boar horn in balls! Bad death.”

I gulped.

“Some stew for little guys. Goblins. You count.”

Did he ask me to count how many goblins were out in the dark and cook for all of them?

“I’m not set up for that kind of work. I don’t have enough pots. I can’t catch enough meat alone,” I said, flustered.

"Need stew! Mothisal food was. What is word!” The orc scratched his butt. "Shit! Yeah. Shit!"

My mind churned as I pondered this.

"Tell you what. You guys catch some game and bring it back. Lots of game, okay? I'll make stew."

The orc showed his tusks. "Deal!"

"Great. Now, off you go. Oh, and see if you can bring back some fat birds. Chickens would be ideal, but I'll settle for a duck."

"Chicken? Here? We bring meat we can find! No chicken!"

"Sounds good. Say hi to your mother for me, okay?"

The orc walked back and conferred with his posse. They chanted among themselves and then left. They were either going to hunt or try to kill us all in our sleep. It could probably go either way at this point.

I rejoined the others. Doan stared at me and laid in as soon as the orcs were out of sight. "Are you stupid, Varix? You want us to deal with those… those disgusting things?"

Caden began laughing. He leaned over, put his hands on his knees, and laughed even louder.

"What's so damn funny?" Doan demanded.

"Him." Caden pointed at me. "Not only are those idiots going to pay us, they’re going to do all the hunting!”

A couple of the soldiers joined in the laughter. Doan looked unimpressed.

As the orcs disappeared into the night, the camp sprang into action. Fires were stoked, weapons were sharpened, and watches were set just in case.

I went to seek paper and writing instruments to start calculating how much food it would take to feed both armies.