The reindeer was calmly nibbling away at a small spot of stubby grass. It had been at it for a few seconds now and was showing no signs of stopping.

That was a mistake.

Rothoor gently brought the crossbow tighter to his body, then let the loaded bolt loose, and it swiftly slammed into the reindeer's neck, causing it to wheeze out in pain and begin to flail on the ground it had now fallen into. Rothoor quickly moved over to where the beast lay and put an end to its suffering with a knife through the skull. There was no need for it live through any extra pain then it had to. Rothoor kneeled at its side and moved his gloved hand to its ribcage and made a wordless prayer. After sitting like this for a few seconds, he began to effortlessly heave the large animal over his shoulder. It was starting to get dark, and the blood red moon was becoming more visible as time went by. He would have to hurry home now. Getting there wouldn't be a problem as Rothoor had hunted in these woods for almost his whole life, and he would probably feel a little warmer if he got moving now.

After pushing through the forest at a decent pace for a few minutes, he reached a hill that give him a direct view of his house, which was only about a kilometre away now. The quaint little hut used to be a human household, but by the time Rothoor and the others of his tribe settled here there were no humans to speak of. When he'd gotten half a kilometre closer, he could make out his son, Mord, standing watch at the front door. His dark green skin made it a little difficult to pick him out from the similarly dark surroundings. He inherited that from his mother.

When he was only a few meters from the door, Mord ambled over from his sentry position at the house to greet his father. Rothoor would have preferred his son stayed until he had fully reached the door like he had taught, but the boy was still doing well in every other regard, and these days Rothoor didn’t much like the idea of disciplining him if he didn’t have to. Life was proving a tough enough teacher for his family these last few months.

He could see a faint smile on his son’s face as he approached. Mord usually tried to practice hiding his emotions like his father instructed him, but he hadn’t perfected it yet, and in a way Rothoor was glad he still hadn’t mastered it. He handed his son the Reindeer and he took it away to be prepared. No words were necessary, as they had done this many times at this point, the same way Rothoor had with his father.

He took off his sturdy boots then entered the hut through the too-small door and began removing the heavy layer of clothes that protected him from the evening chill. He looked around at the hut and considered it. Humans hadn’t lived in it for many years, and he and his family had taken up residence in it for a long time, yet the human architectural elements remained mostly unchanged, making it feel subtly off even though he had lived here for such a long time. Much of the surrounding Orkish lands felt like this. Even if the occupation was so long ago, the human invaders had left a long-lasting scar of their presence that was noticeable at all times.

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After ridding himself of the more cumbersome clothes, Rothoor hurried to his bedroom, where his wife, Orlmor, was most likely sleeping. He opened the door and was relieved to see her pleasantly resting. All too often she would be breathing raggedly in her sleep recently, but this time her breathing was calm and reassuring. As silently as he could, he pulled up a chair next to the bed and watched as the tattered covers gently rose and fell in time with her breaths. He would have been happy to do this for hours, but with his wife in this state it was up to him to sort out dinner for the family. And he was certainly very hungry.

After an hour of wholehearted but unskilled work in the kitchen, Rothoor had conjured up something edible for his family of five, then gently woke his wife and called in the rest of his family for what would hopefully be an acceptable meal. As Orlmor stirred from her sleep, her short brown hair slid down the side of her face onto the pillow. Rothoor shuffled toward her and supported her body as she stood up. Two weeks ago, she would have had no problem going to the dinner table herself, but things were only getting worse.

Rothoor sat her down next to him at the dinner table where his only son and his 2 daughters, Folom and Trothor, were waiting for them so they could begin eating. Once everyone was seated, they all began a silent prayer, and after a few seconds started to eat.

Dinner went by quickly and Rothoor enjoyed the food, despite the fact it paled in comparison to Orlmor’s. He suspected his hunger was hiding the true extent of the differences though. Orlmor was a skilled cook, so even without her magic allowing her to influence the taste, she could cook a masterpiece with very limited options. The silence at the dinner table was broken by Orlmor breaking into a loud and rough coughing fit. Adrenaline swiftly began pumping through Rothoor’s body and he was out of his chair and at her side in an instant, once again supporting her body. The coughing was worse than what he had heard before and it had a distinct wet sound to it.

Rothoor turned to his son Mord’s anxious face.

“Get the medicine now!”

Mord quickly scurried away. As Orlmor continued to violently cough, Rothoor whispered hopefully soothing things into her ear. He wished that he could also help calm down his daughters, who were looking quite scared now, but unfortunately, he was but one man. Mord entered the room, bringing with him the medicine and handed it to Rothoor. It was a small pot of yellow powder that smelt like decaying wet wood. He took a small pile of it using a ladle and carefully brought it to Orlmor’s mouth. By the time she was finished getting through what was in the ladle her condition seemed to have improved a bit.

This couldn’t go on. Every day it seemed she was getting worse and worse with no hope in sight. And to make it worse, winter was only a month away. If she didn’t improve by then, there was a good chance she wouldn’t make it. There was only one likely way he saw this ending that wasn’t in tragedy. They would have to go to Relheem.