It had been days since Mara saw her niece die by her own axe. Maybe even more than a week. She couldn’t tell. Time seemed different after that day and now her eyes were empty.

She had cried a lot, oftentimes even among the tribe that still saw her as a threat, and yet she followed them. What else was there to do? What purpose could it all still carry?

Chieftain Scale-Eye and some hunters went with her, Kazzok, Rika and big Wolf Branak to the south east. Days became warmer, but Mara couldn’t feel it, and nights had become clearer, yet Mara couldn’t see it. For her, it was all the same forest where her niece had fallen. The girl she was meant to protect, the future of their family, the one reason to still fight.

The young shaman’s eyes finally saw some colour again as the green forest slowly gave way for the bright orange of the savanna. She had only ever heard stories of it, from her brother, her father and other riders, but never did she see it before. The vast endless plains of dried grass and small rivers. The distant Mesas to the north and the strange trees that almost looked like big bushes. Animals she had never seen lurked these vast dry plains and sounds she had never heard had caught her ear. Kara would have loved it, she thought. She would have loved to see these lands, and walk along its hunters, no matter their hate. But she could not. She was dead, and by now her ashes was probably long on its way to the wastes, and the last of all battles. No child should ever become part of those, and yet she was. And Mara was at fault. So she thought and told her tears every night.

One morning as most of the party following Chieftain Scale-Eye and Druid Gruntheart, still rested, Mara left her tent. Two hunters on night watch saw her as she left the leather tent of Rika and Kazzok, yet they said nothing. It had been clear no one wanted a darkling here, so they didn’t stop her as she left the camp. She looked around the savannah, the dry glades as they were called, and walked up a hill to a distant tree. The night was surprisingly cold, but for a Frostsong it was still warmer than any summer day. If anything she greeted the cold. She deserved the cold, to freeze in her sorrow and drown in her grief.

The sun was very distant and still hid beyond the horizon, leaving most of the sky and the land in stars and darkness still.

Once up at the tree she started to look for some firewood. It was easy, for the dry glades were true to their name. She placed the yak pelt she had carried since they had left the valley before the tree and started to set up the wood for a campfire. Yet after she was done, she didn’t ignite it. She liked the darkness for now and did not care if the beasts of the glades would come for her. If anything she would have greeted it. There were better ways to die, but she would not deserve a good way. She had brought little Kara down here with her, she was arrogant enough to think she could protect her in the land of the enemy, and in the end, it was her axe.

Tears were born once again and she swelled up, now alone in the shadows of the tree, while the sun still was nothing but a distant dream of morning dew. It was too much. Too much guilt to bear, too much grief to endure. She got a knife from her belt. It had once been a gift from a Frostsong hunter who tried to impress her, but their love was not meant to be.

She looked at it with the blurry fog of tears before her eyes. She grabbed it tighter and tried to think of anyone in this world who would care if she sought her end here. Who would cry if she ended herself? Who would weep if she let the sweet pain of a lover's knife touch her veins?

Her mind came to Kazzok and Rika and she hated that her thoughts still clung to people. That it still didn’t allow her to die in blood and tears. Right there alone, in the darkness of a tree and the latest silence of night. But those two, the Druid and the huntress, two greenskins and their wolf, did so much for her. They had made sure she was not killed by the rest of the tribe after the battle of the oak. They had aided her in her sorrow as much as they could, and by the ancestors they had paid so much of their own just for trusting her. Their home burned, Rika’s arm cut off and even though she did not understand much, Mara knew that a Druid putting trust in her was costly in its own way. She grabbed the knife tight and had the tears fall down. They were good orcs, and they would be better off without her. Who knows what more her useless life, a traitor's life, a kinslayers life, would cost them. She opened her eyes and brought the knife into place as a woman's voice appeared next to her.

“All alone?” Rika asked as she looked down at Mara. She saw the knife and the tears and understood.

Mara nodded and stopped in her movement. She wanted to say something, anything, but instead broke down, her tears running freely. “I can’t..” she uttered in her tears.

Rika moved around and next to her. She took her remaining hand and closed around the one that held the knife. “Maybe you shouldn’t.” she said softly but with a hint of a command in her voice.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Mara shook her head. “I brought this all over you…” she said between her sobbing before she was able to force out more words “Over her..”

Rika opened Mara’s hand and took the knife. She planted it in the ground next to the unlit fireplace before she laid her remaining arm around Mara. Mara froze in place by the touch yet didn’t carry the strength to say no. She also couldn’t deny that it was warm amidst the morning cold.

“Your Khan seeks war.” Rika stated. “He will bring it over us.” She looked at Mara and tried to catch her tearfilled eyes with her own. “You tried to warn us. Tried to protect your clan and even beyond that your enemies of all things.” She tried to make a reassuring smile as Mara looked at her. “You are a good orc. It would be a shame to lose you, shaman.”

Mara couldn’t hold her eyes any longer and looked down. Shame washed over her. She didn’t deserve such words, or a warm arm around her cold shoulders. She deserved death and shame, and for her name to be forgotten and cast out by even the ancestors.

Yet who was she to disagree?

“Why are you like this?” she asked softly while her raining eyes returned to Rika. “Why do you help me so much? Why…” she broke down again and shook her head. “Sorry..” she stumbled over her words, trying to become more content, yet continued as she looked at the distant horizon. “I should be glad..not question you.” Words said more by the shaman in duty than the aunt in grief.

Rika waited until she had spoken all the words she sought to speak and then thought a while thinking for an answer of her own. “I don’t know.” She finally admitted. “At least I can be useful like this.” Her last words sounded bitter and she regretted speaking them aloud.

Mara looked at her as Rika now looked away. The stump that had been her left arm was wrapped in leaf bandages. The wound would still take time, that much she knew. It had been Kazok who was handling it from day to day, despite all the other duties he carried on their journey.

“Should I take a look?” Mara asked carefully, nodding at the stump.

Rika shook her head. “Kazok will.”

Mara nodded and looked to the horizon once more before Rika sighed. “He will anyway…but take a look if you must.” With those words Mara freed herself from the once a Warrior’s arm and moved to her other side. Carefully she removed the leaf bandages and took a look at the wound below. It was as nasty as one would expect. Stitched together by a quite thick thread, almost a rope even. The greenskins might knew well how to aid in grief, yet their ways of healing a body were even harsher than those of the Frostsong.

Mara washed her tears away with her arm and looked closer. Then she asked in a serious manner. “Does it itch?”

Rika nodded and looked at her. “Shouldn’t it?” she asked and made Mara smile for but a second.

“It would be strange if not.” she answered and carefully brought her hands to the wound. The Druid had done great work. It was hard enough to keep someone alive after such a wound, yet despite the harsh ways of the south he had managed to keep the wound clean. There was a dry salve of herbs he had smeared into the wound, something Mara didn’t know. She moved her head in and sniffed the wound for rot or infection, but the scent of the druids herb was too strong. She thought for a moment while Rika looked at her with unease.

“I don’t know the ways of your land…so I dare not to interfere with what Kazzok has done to it already.”

Rika smiled. “He can explain it later.” She said while the sun slowly started to paint the sky in with the promise of a red of morning.

With great care Mara started to apply the leaf bandages once more. It stung for a second as she had to press them close. “You think he has the time for it?”

Rika huffed and looked down. “Maybe..” she answered after a while. “It depends how far we come today. If we meet the other chieftains or not.”

Slowly Mara was done and Rika’s stump was hidden beneath big dried leafs and a tight rope once more. She then looked at the sunrise. “Will I truly be of aid there?” She asked and made Rika look at her once more.

The huntress answered softly while her eyes turned far more serious “You are the one who knows your Khan and his plans best.” she said and nodded a few times. She had to think of more words, yet knew the shaman needed to hear them. “And maybe you even know how to turn your own clan on him.”

Mara breathed heavily to that, a sigh that was not ready to be sound. Yet Rika moved while sitting and used her remaining hand to take Mara’s folded hands. “I don’t understand much…but the hunt we found you on, was the beginning of a new path..my father always believed it. And no matter what happens I know that both Kazzok and I will fight for it.” She smiled into Mara’s eyes.

The shaman returned the smile in gratitude for she knew how much the huntress tried. Yet her heart only feared for them. For their destiny, for the bloodied path ahead of them. She would not allow her mistakes to cost more life and she would give her own gladly if it meant peace for others.

She nodded and both started to look at the rising sun, no more word was spoken as they watched it rise. Mara held Rika’s hand as they did. She felt uneasy at first to accept it, as she did with her arm and words. Yet she could not deny that the warm comfort of another orc was soothing. And in the end, who was she to disagree?