'ENEMY ATTACK!'

My eyes shot open.

Sounds of screaming and yelling engulfed me, and the smell of smoke invaded my nostrils.

Damn it all. Who the hell decided to attack us two days before my coming of age ceremony?

Still confused I moved on primarily on instinct, quickly grabbing my long spear and putting on my winter clothes.

The clothes were no armour, but I had a feeling that getting some extra protection, although miniscule, would prove to be the correct choice.

The orcs rarely wore armour, and very few decided to craft it. Reason being, that metal was extremely scarce in these parts, and ordinary leather armour would just hinder the orcs' movements. Not to mention that our skin had a natural toughness to it, further enhancing our combat abilities.

The reason I still put on these clothes, however, was that in the case this was a large scale attack, arrows were to be expected. Now, arrows adorned with a metal arrowhead, or a well crafted trakk one would be sure to pass through the leather like it was butter, but if the attackers were who I thought they were, they were in posession no such weaponary.

A shield would be even better, but I didn't own one myself. I'm sure most of the orcs had at least one shield per house though, as many were still kept as memorabilia from the wars of old, from the days before we moved into this forest.

A shield is quite useless in these woods after all, due to how densly the trees are packed one next to each other. Carrying one would be a huge nuisance. Additionally, all the hunters carried long spears, which required two hands to wield correctly.

Still a bit confused, I stumbled out of my house, hitting my forehead on the wall in the process.

The pain helped me shake off my drowsiness, and I finally looked around to assess the situation. It was early morning, the sun just barely peeking over the vast green ocean of trees.

Someone sounded the battle horn, and I could see many orcs rushing from their houses just like myself.

I could see many homes burning in the distance. Most, if not all of the houses on the other side of the village were in flames. I suspected the enemy lit their arrows on fire before shooting them, as I doubted anyone could make it that far into the heart of the village.

Contrary to my expectations, I saw no arrows sailing through the air. They had either run out, or decided to stop once they successfully lit any houses in their reach on fire. I couldn't tell, but I was still very much thankful.

One of my deepest fears was to die because of something stupid like an arrow to the head. I really wished for metal helmets at times like these.

I ran directly to the village gate, as I could hear the sounds of fighting coming from that direction. Most of the others gathered all their kids and ran towards the chief's house, serving as a sort of evacuation shelther for the village. Thankfully, the large roundhouse wasn't on fire.

I saw Zharra was helping her old grandfather into the house. I was really glad she was safe.

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The hunters, myself included hurried to help those already fighting at the gate. Some of the braver young orcs joined with us as well.

We arrived at a gruesome scene. Five or six orcs, most of them hunters, stood in a half-circle and tried their best to fend off around a dozen goblins. I could see many more in the shadows of the trees at the bottom of the hill, their yellow eyes gleaming through the leaves.

Why weren't my companions retreating? And why were the goblins attacking at close distance? The situation didn't make any sense.

I squinted my eyes as I rushed toward them. I tried to analyze the state of the fight to the best of my efforts. Something must have happened for them to be acting like this.

I looked to the ground, and noticed many corpses. Most were goblins, at least ten if i counted correctly. Around half as many, though, were corpses of the orcs. I instantly recognised most of them. Thokk laid among them, his lifeless eyes staring into the sky.

A deep feeling of anger started swelling from within me. I would show these goblins my wrath, after they had dared to kill the only man who dared to give me a chance.

I forcefully tore my eyes away from his body. I could not let my emotions take control of me. Not now.

I noticed one more figure sitting on the ground, clutching it's stomach. The orc was facing away from me, yet I still knew who it was. I could recognise that broad back any day.

Fuck. This is bad. The tribe can't afford to lose both the lead hunter and the chief on the same day.

Three goblins walked past the destroyed wall, and started circling the orcs around the left side of thier formation. One of the hunters, Kiirha, suffered a stab to the leg as she tried to stop their advance.

She just became a hunter, joining the team right after the end of winter. I would not let her life go to waste as well.

Before the attacking goblin could end her life, I rammed the head of my spear through his head, his crimson blood splattering onto my hands.

Acting faster than the goblins, I kicked his lifeless body towards the one closest to me.

He stumbled backwards, almost falling under the weight of his fellow tribesman.

The other one was left alone, and I ran my spear through his leg before he could react.

In the last two years and a half, I ran into goblins nine times all together, as part of the first hunting team. Most of the battles were fought near the river, as they refused to let us control that area. And in those skirmishes, I learned how to fight more effectively. I was a different man now. I was stronger.

The many spars I had fought with the butcher and his son helped me a lot in getting the hang of the spear, yet as the butcher always said, nothing is more important than experience. And in this moment, there were very few more experienced than myself.

The goblin backed off, before springing forward from his uninjured leg.

How predictable.

I struck him in his good leg before he could react. This let him wailing on the floor, and I quickly finished his life. Even now, I still felt sick in my stomach after killing them.

I took a deep breath to calm myself, while looking around to see the state of the battlefield. The goblins were slowly retreating, and I noticed Mok was among the ones protecting the wounded chief. None of the surviving hunters had any deadly injuries, as far as I could see. It seemed that no orcs died after the reinforcements arrived.

Mok was bleeding from the head, but otherwise looked fine; The chief, however, not so much.

The last of the goblins ran away, and I decided to take charge. Someone had to act now, before it was too late. I had been recently promoted to be Thok's second in command after all, which gave me considerable influence.

'Mok! Take some men with you and carry the chief to his house, quick! He can't afford to lose too much blood. And find Zharra, she might be able to help!' I shouted with everything I had.

'Everyone else, come with me! We have to gather as much food and materials from the burning houses as we can!'

No one objected.

As I was running towards the houses, a thought suddenly hit me.

Even if Zharra somehow pulled off a miracle, which I doubted she could, she couldn't do so without proper equipment.

If I remembered correctly, the blessing of healing was bestowed upon us by the goddess of fertility, Luts'iya, whose figurins were stored in the shaman's old workshop. Zharra decided to keep all of her equipment in there, and spent most of her time holed up in the room.

I changed direction and the shaman's house quickly came into my view. It was burning with hot, orange flames, and threatened to collapse at any second.

This is going to be close.