Gus began tearing down the tent as soon as they arrived, much to the exhausted human’s dismay.

“Gush go, White go with?” the orc asked Wyatt as he worked.

“I have nowhere else to go, so I might as well,” Wyatt responded, but when the orc looked at him confused, he simply said “Yes.”

Wyatt was wearing his cloak now that they didn’t need to blend into the snow, but still had to wear one of the backpacks over it or risk making it look like he wasn’t carrying his weight. The two of them couldn’t carry everything without his storage, and not for the first time Wyatt wished he knew enough of the orc’s language to ask what had happened to the others.

They spent some time taking the armor off of the horses, as it would only slow them down. Wyatt had no idea where Gus was going, or how long he would follow his green companion, but he assumed the horse would need its stamina. Underneath the armor was a good deal of padding which served to prevent the cold metal from making contact with the animal’s skin.

They set out an hour after they arrived at the tent, putting as many miles between them and the burning elf camp as they could before night fell. They moved north mostly, and Wyatt hoped the weather would stay clear for the rest of the trip. Even with his furs to keep him warm, he was not looking forward to the brutally cold winds that had brought him to his knees the day before.

The night dragged on, and Wyatt’s backside began to ache. He was already tired from battle, and they had forgone sleep for security. He kept from complaining, but inwardly hoped his companion would stop soon.

Eventually, the human got his wish. Gus turned to Wyatt several hours before sunrise and motioned for a patch of trees. The trees should be able to hide their camp from anyone who would pass by, and Wyatt nodded his agreement. Gus dismounted his horse, and the mage followed suit, stretching his aching legs.

When Wyatt reached for the tent he carried on his back, Gus shook his head.

“No time,” he said, using his axe head to clear a patch of snow for his bedroll.

“Of course not,” replied Wyatt, already feeling the cold of the open air. “Fire?”

“No. Smoke.”

“Ah, smoke. Of course. Who will have first watch?”

Gus was confused for a second, and Wyatt motioned for his eyes, then pointed around them. Gus nodded confirmation and pointed at himself, motioning to the mage to lay down.

Wyatt slept for what felt like mere moments. He knew he had slept for several hours, and he could already see the sun had begun to rise. Gus pressed a finger to Wyatt’s chest with a word, and the human assumed it was his turn for watch.

Wyatt readied his equipment for travel, knowing they would leave as soon as the orc had gotten some rest. Sitting on a stump, the mage began taking notes.

He started with the symbols he saw on the dark elf’s sword blade, assuming they meant something important. He didn’t know what, but he assumed he could write out the runes with mana and simply see what they did. Wyatt assumed at least one of them had something to do with fire, but he would have to wait for a more opportune time to test out his theory.

Next, Wyatt occupied his time by studying more of his orc language. He wrote down the words that he could remember his companion speaking that day, along with a rough translation of what the word meant. He wished he had some kind of primer on the written form of the orcish language, so he didn’t have to write the words by sound alone.

Writing books in a dead language. What a waste.

Lamenting the fact that no one but him would ever be able to read anything he wrote, the mage moved on to writing down observations on the high elves, dark elves, and the bird-horses.

When he finished writing, the sun had more than crested the distant horizon, and he decided it was time to wake the orc. When he turned to his companion, he saw Gus’ eyes were already open. The orc only nodded as he stood up and began packing his gear.

What a beast, Wyatt thought with no small amount of adoration.

Over the next few days, the two traveled on their horses. Their pace was slow but constant, and they occupied themselves over the long miles with conversation. Wyatt’s understanding of the language grew slowly, but steadily, and he wondered at how fast someone could learn a new language simply by necessity.

“Tell me about your people,” Wyatt asked on the fourth day since the fight at the camp.

“Small tribe,” Gus responded with a smile, “we walk snow.” Gus motioned at the landscape.

“Nomads?” Wyatt asked hopefully, “move camp a lot?”

“Yes!” exclaimed the orc, “we move camp, move home. Run from elves.”

“Orcs are not what I expected.”

Gus only looked at the human for a few seconds, not understanding what he was saying, but smiling as he waited for his new friend to say something in orcish. Wyatt did not try to teach his companion his own language, as he saw very little point to it. Still, Gus had tried asking if he could learn it the day before. Wyatt had only shaken his head in response.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“What about your family?” Wyatt asked, bringing his mind back to now.

“Father chief of tribe,” Gus answered. Wyatt could sense a small amount of pride in the orc’s voice. “No mother,” he continued, voice showing a sadness at the word.

Wyatt wondered briefly what had happened to her but lacked the proper control of the language to delve deeper. He nodded at the orc, trying to come up with some kind of response.

“Your family?” Gus asked.

Wyatt wasn’t ready for the question, though he expected it.

“Dead.” Wyatt’s face lacked any emotion, as he had steeled his heart to the pervasive feeling of loss.

“Maybe we see others.”

“Others?” Wyatt looked at Gus, confused.

“Other humans.” Gus used the word Wyatt had taught him for his own race.

“No.”

The orc hesitated at the finality of the word, though Wyatt could tell he wanted to ask more on the subject.

“They’re gone,” the human said.

“Some, maybe?” Gus said, smiling back in reassurance.

“No.” Wyatt opened his stat page and shared his title with the archer, a trick he had picked up the day before when Gus had showed Wyatt some of his skills.

“Last of your kind," Gus read aloud, the weight of the meaning heavy in his voice. “All gone. Why?”

Wyatt looked at the orc, hate burning in his eyes. The look was all Gus needed to understand everything.

“High-Elves,” the green orc said, his voice full of empathy.

The two rode in silence for a while, both deep in thought. Gus threw his new friend glances periodically, trying to understand the human.

The two took a break at midday to rest their horses and stretch their legs. As they sat eating, Gus put his hand on Wyatt’s shoulder.

“You meet Gush people,” Gus said, “Gush people like White.”

Wyatt smiled briefly at Gus but said nothing. Wyatt’s eyes were drawn to movement a short distance away. He stared for several moments but saw nothing but the white of the snow. Seeing the human’s distracted look, Gus turned his head in the same direction. He made no indication that he saw anything at first, only looking for any sign of danger.

Suddenly, the orc turned to Wyatt, ripping the leather helmet from his belt, and ramming it onto the human’s head. When Wyatt tried to protest, Gus only grabbed the man’s hood and pulled it over the helmet.

When Wyatt was able to look up he saw the area they were looking at begin to shimmer, revealing a lone figure standing in the snow.

“Elf Mage!” shouted Gus, bringing up his bow. Before he could draw an arrow, both he and Wyatt were blown backwards off of their feet. Wyatt tried to stand but was held in place by a force on his chest. Looking down, he saw ropes binding his arms to his sides. The ropes glowed a faint yellow, and the human knew immediately that it was a holding spell.

Wyatt turned and saw Gus was held in a similar manner. To make matters worse, more shimmering fields began to disappear, revealing yet more elves, these ones armed with swords or bows.

Wyatt cursed the elves, using words he had learned from Gus over the past few days. If he would die, he would not die easy.

He was lifted in the air by a pair of armored hands, then pushed down onto his knees next to Gus. As the holding spell faded, the same armored hands pulled his own behind his back, then wrapped them in leather strips. Wyatt struggled against his new bindings, but the leather was too strong for him. His mind raced for anyway out of their current situation, but he could not think of a way he could make use of his skills.

Beside him, Gus was silent and as still as stone. His increased strength could have given their captors more trouble than Wyatt’s, but he instead chose wisdom. Gus was bound in the same way as his human companion, and they were pulled to their feet.

The two were led at sword point for at least an hour before finally cresting a hill. On the other side was an elven camp, many times larger than the previous one they had left in flames. In the center was a large cage, and Wyatt and Gus were thrown into it, their gear stacked nearby.

Wyatt looked around and saw that they were not alone in their new prison. There beside them was the dark elf woman they fought beside before.

The dark elf was bound from head to toe, and she fought at her bindings continuously, her eyes full of fire that reminded Wyatt of Cecilia. The dark elf stopped struggling when she noticed her cell mates, and she nodded her head at them. She couldn’t speak, as her mouth was gagged with what looked like cloth, and Wyatt could only assume that she had tried biting her captors when she lost the use of her arms and legs.

“Nice to see you again,” Wyatt said to the woman in broken orcish. Her eyes widened, and she tilted her head in understanding and tried speaking despite the cloth in her mouth.

“Gush teach White,” Gus said in response to the dark elf’s garbled words.

“No,” Wyatt said, “Gus talk too much, Wyatt learn on his own.” Wyatt wasn’t hoping for a laugh, and he received none. All around them, the elves went about their tasks. It was obvious to Wyatt that this was a war camp, though what their intended target was, he did not know.

They sat in silent contemplation for what felt like hours before an elf leader of some kind came to speak to them. The prisoners were taken from the cage and placed on their knees in front of her. She looked at Wyatt and Gus with disgust, before writing them off as useless. She turned her attention to the dark elf, talking to her in a language the human didn’t understand as another elf removed the prisoner’s gag.

The enemy commander had golden skin, with light brown hair that seemed to glow in the sunlight. Her armor was extravagantly made and shone with intricate patterns of silvers and golds. Everything about the elven woman stood in contrast to the dark gray skin and purple leather armor of her dark elf captive.

The elf commander was holding the dark elf’s sword in her hands as she spoke, taunting her prisoner with it. It was sheathed in a deep purple scabbard that matched the leather armor the dark elf wore, and Wyatt could tell from the look in its owner’s eyes that it was special somehow.

The dark elf woman spoke quietly, barely making any noise as her mouth moved. The high elf leader leaned in, repeating whatever question she was asking.

She was answered with a smile, before the dark elf rammed her head into her captor’s nose, painting the nearby snow red. She laughed as her gag was placed back into her mouth, snapping at the fingers several times before they were successful.

The high elf, now furious at the failed interrogation, started shouting a stream of orders at those nearby, and more soldiers held the laughing prisoner as she struggled, giving them a fight even with her body fully held by leather bindings.

In the confusion, the sword had landed beside Wyatt. He pretended to fall forward, gripping his cloak with his bound hand behind him and pulling it over the sword.

All three prisoners were hauled to their feet as the yelling started dying down. The high elf followed the prisoners with a vicious, blood-stained sneer as they were dragged away.

Wyatt only had a few moments to think about the implications of that look before he was thrown to his knees. In front of him was a large hole in the ground, darkness extending far into its depths.

The high elf’s taunting laughter was all they heard before they were kicked, one by one, into the darkness.