It has been one year since I was reborn into this world, and I have made many new discoveries. First of all, orcs seem to reach adulthood sooner than humans do. I have just turned one, and yet I can walk, talk, and do just about anything that a 2 or 3-year-old human can. Obviously, I got a grasp on all of these things way sooner, due to the memories of my past life, so I have been looking to my friend, named Mok, for guidance. When he began to speak, I began to speak. When he began to crawl, I began to crawl.

I have been doing this to not draw attention to myself. The granny, who turned out to be the shaman's wife, seems to think the two of us are competing with each other. Now that I think about it, Mok might think this way as well.

The villagers hold a coming-of-age ceremony, called Tugshlagg, once you reach 12 years of age. It is then that the children can join the hunting team or take up another job. It is also quite common for children, whose parents already have some kind of unique job, to take over said job and continue the family tradition.

'Rak, Rak, hurry up! The hunters are back!' Mok shouted through the window.

'I'm coming, wait for me!' I shouted back, even though I already heard him running to the village gate. He never listened.

Mok absolutely adored the hunters and wanted to become one in the future. Well, to be honest, that was my plan too.

I rushed out of the house, crawling under the surprisingly heavy fur, fleeing from an angry rooster, and running past the chief's house before finally arriving at the gate.

Well, gate was a big word. The "gate" was just a hole in the wall, which was also more of a fence than anything really. Some rope and a prayer or two held it together instead of nails, as metal was extremely rare in these parts.

The hunters strode through the gate; however, I immediately sensed something was amiss. I looked up, straining my neck to look at their faces. Everyone looked really pissed off.

Actually, one of them didn't. Thokk, one of the younger guys, looked like he was barely holding his tears back. I looked back down and—

What the fuck? Is that an arrow?

An arrow was sticking out from the side of his leg.

'Raknar! Here you are. Go tell the chief that Thokk got shot. Might be poisoned, too. Quick!' My father, also part of the hunters, told me.

I immediately took off running, Mok trailing right behind me.

'What happened, Rak?'

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'I have no idea.' I shrugged. 'I'm sure they will tell us later.' I told him. I couldn't wait to find out what kind of dangerous enemy they encountered.

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'... Fucking goblins.' Chief Krum spat out.

'Fucking goblins.' The orcs muttered in unison.

Every single orc in the village was gathered in a small clearing, stationed in front of the chief's house.

It was used as a sort of a meeting place for the tribe, as it was the only place on the small hill large enough to hold the near thirty orcs, living in the tribe.

'So, you're telling me you did absolutely nothing to aggravate them?' Chief Krum asked slowly, as if speaking to a child.

'No chief.' Answered Ghor. 'Absolutely nothing.'

Ghor was the current leader of the hunters. Only the chief and shaman held more influence within the tribe.

'May the great Takrabuu'Lakhbakk strike me dead if I am not telling the truth.' He added, further reinforcing his previous words.

This seemed to please a couple of the less convinced orcs gathered around. After all, no one would be dumb enough to needlessly provoke the third of the Three Green dragons, said to be able to swallow mountains whole. The very hill they were standing on right now was said to be one of his scales, which fell from the heavens eons ago.

'As I have said before, we were standing near the river, looking for fish, and BAM, an arrow hit Thokk in the leg. If those little monsters weren't as clumsy as they are, the arrow could have killed him, Chief!' Ghor said, waving his hands around and clearly quite angry about the whole situation.

'Alright, alright, calm down. It could have just been an accident. The goblins might have thought you guys were trying to attack them or something.' The chief said, trying to calm down Ghor.

'Just be more careful the next time you hunt by the river, and hunt in bigger groups.' He added.

The chief wasn't dumb and knew that the goblins wouldn't attack them without reason. After all, both tribes had enough food to survive, and the river has served as a kind of a barrier between the two tribes' territories for generations now. Neither of them really had anything to gain from attacking the other. It would be a pointless hassle, only leading to many deaths and a shortage of food supplies.

The chief then proceeded to conclude the meeting and went back inside, while the other villagers returned to their houses.

Mok fell asleep during the meeting, not finding the adults talking particularly entertaining. Granny picked him up and threw him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes before returning to her home, while I followed father back to our house.

He looked quite stressed, running his fingers over the beads of his necklace. He always did this when he was in deep thought. The necklace was something of a family heirloom to us, crafted by my great-grandfather, or so my father told me.

We arrived at our house, stationed next to the village gate. It was an old, yet cozy home, with the signature thatched roof. Defying all expectations, it still hasn't caved in, even after decades of lackluster maintenance.

We each laid down on our bed of leaves, and my father began to tell me stories. He never ran out of material. It's a shame the orcs did not have an alphabet, as I would have loved to write a couple of them down. This time, as many times before, he decided to talk about his grandfather, who led this village as chief for many years.

'... And then, he launched his spear and impaled three stinky goblins in one throw!' He said excitedly, a wide grin on his face.

He really loved telling me these stories, and I had to admit he had a great imagination. If my great-grandfather was even a tenth of the man my father made him out to be, I will still have a hard time filling his shoes.

He then finished his story and said a quick prayer to Takrabuu'Lakhbakk, or Bak for short, before he laid down.

We both fell asleep.