(http://orcsoftheredblade.com/images/resources/kavararune.png)
Everything packed and leaving in a hurry, Vraxxar rode Nighthowl to the forest. Once by the border, he halted and climbed off.
It was still dark, the calm night after the large battle with the centaur. Nighthowl looked at Vraxxar, clearly not liking his decision. But when he was free from bags and straps, he ran back to Crossroads, leaving the orc.
Vraxxar took a deep breath as he looked into the forest, and started to walk.
The sun was finally peeking through the leaves and branches as Vraxxar walked on. Luckly he had scouted ahead a few days past to know where to walk, and the location. The only difficult part is to make sure the elves didn't know he was there, something in his opinion was a challange itself.
Several hours past by as Vraxxar slithered his way through the vast forest, dodging animals and elf patrols, until he reached his destination.
He quickly started to prepare himself. Hung his bags up in a tree together with his armour and weapons, made a fire and sacrificed a deer to Kavara to bless his hunt.
And then came the hunt..
Another hour went by and no prey yet. Using bushes and trees, Vraxxar had been watching a wolfpack not far from where he made his own camp. The lair of the wolves had them sleep close to eachother. Not surprising considering the other packs around them.
However, there was one bed that stood out, because it was always empty. Yet there were signs of something sleeping there.
More time past, and the darkness had fallen again. Not gotten a sleep for many hours, Vraxxar was now getting tired. A dangerous thing when being this close to the wolves, and he knew this. So he started to make his way back to his own camp, covering his tracks as he did.
Halfway there, Vraxxar stopped. A smell. He lowered himself and looked around. It was the smell of blood.
He quickly made it to a nearby bush and waited, scanning his surroundings. Only a few seconds later, a wolf, smaller than the others, passed by where he walked earlier. It stopped where he stood earlier, and sniffed. A chill went up Vraxxar's spine, longing for his blades. But no, this was a fight where only fang and claw was to be used. He tensed up as he watched the wolf, who now looked up. Blood around it's maw as it looked around, clearly looking for the orc.
Vraxxar pounced, hands stretched out and ready to bite the wolf's neck. But to his surprise, the wolf swiftly dodged away, and then pounced him. Both fell to the ground and the wolf stood on the orc. Before the wolf could attack, Vraxxar shoved it away and the wolf tumbled to the ground and quickly got up again. Now both were staring at eachother with some distance away, waiting for the other to strike.
Suddenly, when Vraxxar was looking into the wolf's eyes, a strange feeling came to him. He felt as if several memories rushed into his head. Memories not his own. He felt as if he knew the wolf, and the wolf knew him. He shook his head and looked at the wolf again. The wolf made another pounce, and the fight was back on.
Bites, claws, leaps and punches were exchanged as the fight went on. With each blow both got slower, with each wound both got weaker.
The fight had gone on for a while when a pause came. Again they were looking at eachother. It was an even fight, and anyone could win. Someone will fall, and the other will saviour the victory.
With heavy breathing they watched eachother, Vraxxar tried to think of another way to end this. The wolf started to circle Vraxxar. With a wounded leg it walked, knowing it couldn't leap at him again. Vraxxar, with a wounded arm, knew he couldn't make a frontal attack.
The wolf kept circling the orc. Vraxxar finally came up with an idea, and kneeled down. He grabbed a nearby branch, and the wolf stopped. Stared intently at Vraxxar, the wolf tensed up.
Vraxxar threw the branch and the wolf barely dodged it. However, Vraxxar leapt afterwards and crashed into the wolf. They both struggled and blows were again being shared. Vraxxar kneed the wolf in the ribs and it yelped out, and then he went to bite it's neck. His teeth dug deep into the wolf's throat as blood gushed out. The wolf thrashed as hard as it could.
After a short time, the wolf stopped. Still breathing, but no energy to fight anymore. Vraxxar released the bite and stood on his knees, breathing heavy. He wrapped his good arm around the wolf's neck, and with a quiet whisper to Kavara, he snapped the neck. And it was all finally over.
Suddenly, the winds picked up. The tress and bushes rustled loudly, the sound almost deafening.
Vraxxar peered up at the tree tops and around him, feeling an odd warmth stroking against him. As if something walked close to him. And he then felt a certain acomplishment.
He picked up the wolf and made his way back to the camp. Every step and breath created a new wave of pain. And when finally there, he bandaged himself before he started to skin the wolf and make his way back home.