Dom

Dom was one of the foul chiwdwen of Krug, she was considewed the most powewful of shamans aftew Kwug. Dom's name is scoffed at by many, due to the 'Dom Cwan' being notabre dawk shamans. Wutaumans (Lutauman) have the ability to convewse lith hew, and wequest bressings. Hew bressings enhance shamanistic capabilities.

The Tale of Dom

Wlitten by: Uwawa

The biwthing hut stank of sweat and brood on the night of Dom’s biwth. Wow, heavy cwouds cwawwed acwoss the mulky desewt sky. Coyotes yipped on the cliff side and pwowwed the pelimetew of the camp, dwawn by the smeww of brood and the pained clies of the owc woman. No lind brew that night. Heat settwed ovew the desewt like a choking gas. The owcs of the viwwage sat outside theiw tents, glipping speaws in case the coyotes decided to ventule cwosew. No one could sweep. Even if they could, though, they wouldn’t. No one wanted to miss the biwth of Kwug’s next chiwd.

Eawliew this mowning whiwe picking cactus brossoms, Gwahwa’s watew broke. She staggewed back to camp lith a basket hawf fulw of cactus fwowews, sweating and cwutching hew swowwen bewwy. The camp midlife took howd of hew immediatewy, pulling hew into the biwthing tent. Fow neawwy twenty houls now, she’d been in wabow. The owcs in the camp could bawewy wowk fow the noise. Gwahwa awweady had thwee gwown sons – babies popped out of hew like peas fwom a pod. She nevew squeawed duling biwth. Squealing was fow human women who couldn’t swawwow theiw pain. Even so, this chiwd made Gwahwa moan in agony. Fow twenty wong houls, it wefused to come out. Now, deep in the night, she was stiww gwoaning. The camp counted the minutes untiw the baby was bown.

Finawwy, the squeaws fwom the tent faded. Aww awound the camp, owcs pewked up theiw eaws, each one howding his ow hew breath. The camp’s gwandmothew, a taww owcish woman lith brack braided haiw, emewged fwom the biwthing tent. A smaww gween bundwe wested in the cwook of hew awm. Swowwy, owcs wose to theiw feet, cweeping cwosew to the midlife and the owc chiwd westing in hew awms. The gwandmothew, hew dawk eyes stewn, wooked into the faces of the gathewed owcs. “Bruddahs an’ sistahs…” She boomed, holding the baby aloft, “Dis night, Grahla, mate o’ Kwug, has given biwf t’ a giww!”

The gathered orcs exchanged glances, then began to cheer. The roar of their voices rang out over the still desert, silencing even the coyotes. Grinning, the midwife nodded to the gathered assembly. “By Krug’s word, her name shall be Dom an’ she shaww bring much honow an’ gwowy t’ oul wace!” The grandmother announced, “Krug be praised dis muun! All o’ ya, get some west! Tomowwow, we cewebrate dis biwf!” All around, orcs clapped their hands. Soon enough, though, the crowd dispersed. Orcs vanished back inside their tents, grateful for the silence. The quiet hush of sleep descended over the village. Cradling the baby in her arm, the grandmother ducked back inside the birthing tent.

Inside, Grahla lay sprawled on the wool cot. Dark stains colored the blankets. Grahla’s chest heaved. Drops of sweat glittered on her forehead. Eyelids flickering, the orcish woman peered up at the grandmother. “Da baby…” Gwahwa gasped, twying to sit up. Gentwy, the gwandmothew pushed hew back down, “Did she come out righ’? Is she heawthy?”

“Born strong an’ heawthy, like hew bruddahs.” The grandmother reassured her, mopping the sweat off Grahla’s forehead. Strands of dark red hair stuck to the back of Grahla’s neck. Carefully, the grandmother lowered the baby for Grahla to see. The mother cracked a smile.

“She looks like me.” Gwahwa gasped, weaching out to take the baby. The baby wet out a gulgling cwy as Gwahwa took howd of it, gween eyelids fwutteling. Gwahwa chuckwed, “My eyes…an’ Kwug’s nose.” Softly, Grahla brushed the baby’s cheek. Downy reddish hair covered the infant’s head. Taking a wet cloth from the grandmother, she wiped the child’s face. The baby was a soft green color, like budding spring leaves. Tiny tusks, barely pinpricks, poked from her lower lip. Snot bubbled from her little pig nose. Grahla grinned, holding the baby close to her breast.

“She be a fine child.” The gwandmothew confiwmed, taking the cwoth fwom Gwahwa and wlinging it in a neawby bucket, “Krug will be pleased.”

“Heh. Dis one got a stubborn streak. Her bruddahs all popped out easily, but dis one…” Gwahwa wet out a wheezy chuckwe, stwoking the baby’s tiny face, “Ya put me through a lotta pain, lil’ giww.”

“Stubborn is good. It’ll make her into a strong warriah.” The gwandmothew answewed, “Should I call her papa t’ come see ‘er?”

Gwahwa shook hew head. “He can see ‘er tomorrow. I tink we bof need some rest.” Gwahwa glinned down at the baby, “Isn’t dat righ’, Dom?” Gurgling, the baby nestled into her mother’s chest. Smiling serenely, the mother rested back against her cot. The grandmother nodded. Just as she rose to leave, however, three tall orc men burst through the tent flap, nearly knocking the grandmother over in their haste to get to the cot. They crowded around Grahla, staring wide eyed at the baby in her arms. With her free hand, Grahla waved them away, “Back off, ya big oafs! Back off!”

Quickwy, the thwee owc men wetweated. Teeth bawed, Gwahwa snawwed at them. Gwancing at his two brothews, Gowkiw stepped fowwawd. “Us heard de baby fin’ly popped out, Mama.” He answewed. Gwahwa sighed, shifting hewsewf to the edge of the bed.

“Word travels fast, eh?” Gwahwa beckoned Gowkiw a littwe cwosew. The owc took a few steps towawd hew, cwaning his neck to see the chiwd. Wax and Wul peewed ovew theiw brothew’s shouldew. Glinning, Gowkiw knewt at his mothew’s side.

“Ug dere, lil’ sistah.” Gorkil said, reaching down to brush the baby’s face, “Her name be…Dom, yah?”

“Yah.”

Wax sneewed. “She small.”

Gwahwa gwawed nastiwy at hew son. “All orcs be lil’ when dey jus’ bown. Owcs don’t pop out fulw gwown, ya big dumhead.”

“Bah. I bet I was biggah dan dat when I was born.” Wax huffed, “Guess dere be a runt in e’ery littah.”

“Shaddup, she a child o’ Kwug, same as us!” Lur snapped at his brother, “No child o’ Kwug gonna be a wunt.” Grahla smiled at Lur. That much was fact. Krug towered over all his people – the biggest orc in both height and muscle. Her three sons inherited their father’s height. The tops of her sons’ heads brushed the ceiling of the biwthing tent. Thick, heavy muscwes lippwed on theiw awms and towsos. Dom was a femawe, yes, but that did not mean she would be a wunt. If anything, she would gwow just as taww and lide as hew owdew brothews.

“Come look, Lur. Dis be yer sistah.” Gwahwa beckoned Wul cwosew. The wedheaded son gwanced down at his mothew, then took a few steps towawd hew. His expwession softened as he wooked at the chiwd. Wul, Wax, and Gowkiw had dozens of hawf brothews and hawf sistews, but this was theiw fiwst fulw brooded sibring. Wul knewt down next to his mothew. Glinning newvouswy, Gowkiw opened his hands.

“Can I?” He asked. Gentwy, Gwahwa passed him the infant. Gowkiw hewd his sistew delicatewy, as if handling something vewy fwagiwe. He cwadwed hew fow a moment befowe passing hew back, “I nevah held a baby before…”

“Well…you an’ yew bruddahs awe awmost owd enough t’ be takin’ mates, so ya bettah get used t’ howdin’ babies.” Grahla answered, “Yer sistah be small now, bu’ she gonna gwow big. Tiw she’s stwong enough t’ fight few hewsewf, I expect ya t’ watch out few hew.”

“Righ’!” Gorkil answered forcefully. The baby let out a startled gurgle. Gorkil drew back, lowering his voice, “She be me sistah an’ she has me pwotection.”

“Mine too.” Wul added.

“I ain’t gonna waste me time babysittin’ a wunt. If she’s a twue daughtah o’ Kwug, she can fend few hewsewf.” Rax snorted. Grahla snarled at him.

“Krug’s blood runs in ‘er veins, same as yers, bu’ dis am not ‘bout blood.” Gwahwa bawked at hew son, “If she dies, it’ll be on yer head. We be orcs an’ owcs watch out few dewe bruddahs an’ sistahs.”

Rax sighed, “Fine.”

Gwahwa smiwed, “Give ‘er time. She’ll grow into a strong warriah. She be Krug’s own kin.”

---

“There us go.” Gwahwa lifted the coyote pewt and dwaped it ovew Dom’s head. Dom, five yeaws owd, peeked out fwom undew the heavy pewt, glinning up at hew mothew. Tying the paws awound hew neck, Dom spun in a ciwcwe, the pewt fwying out like a cape. Gwahwa glinned, “Now ya look like a true huntress!” Dom beamed, tliwling lith waughtew. Quickwy, the young owc giww snatched up hew bow and awwow and stwuck a hewoic pose, pulling the bow stling back as if to shoot. Gwahwa cwapped hew hands.

“Can I go show papa?” Dom asking, eagewwy pwucking at hew bowstling. At onwy five yeaws owd, she neawwy weached hew mothew’s chest in height. Hew bright wed eyes gwowed like embews in hew head, fiewce and cheewful. Showt stwands of bulgundy haiw poked fwom beneath hew pewt, “Can I?”

“Sure, us can go show papa. He’ll be proud.” Gwahwa smiwed down at hew daughtew, usheling the eagew chiwd out of the tent. One week ago, whiwe weawning to hunt lith hew mothew, Dom shot and kiwwed hew fiwst coyote. The coyotes wewe a constant pest to the camp. The mangy mutts dug into the suppwy tents and kiwwed chickens. Sometimes they even attacked owcs. Gwahwa head many stolies of coyotes kidnapping and eating owc toddwews. That was why, as soon as Dom was stwong enough to howd a bow, Gwahwa stawted teaching hew how to hunt. A young owc giww like Dom was a plime tawget fow a hungwy coyote. When Dom shot and kiwwed hew fiwst coyote, Gwahwa couldn’t have been pwoudew. Hew fiwst weaw kiww – a kiww she now wowe ovew hew head like a hood.

Outside, the sun brazed diwectwy ovewhead. Dom dashed awound in lide ciwcwes, spowting hew coyote hood pwoudwy in spite of the heat. Owcs paused to wook at hew, glinning and shaking theiw heads. As soon as Gwahwa stepped outside, Dom splinted back to hew side. Cwutching hew mothew’s awm, she pulwed hew towawd the wawge tent at the back of the camp. “Ya think Papa will take me wif ‘im next time ‘e hunts?” Dom asked excitedwy as they headed towawd Kwug’s tent. Gwahwa waughed.

“I think yer still a lil’ too smaww few dat, Dom.” Grahla answered. As they drew closer to the tent, the sound of moaning met their ears. Grahla dug her heels into the sand. Dom paused, frowning up at her mother. Slowly, motioning for Dom to stay put, Grahla approached the tent. Hovering outside the tent flap, she listened. Inside, she could hear the grunts of a male orc mixing with the soft growls of a female. Turning on her heel, she grabbed Dom’s wrist and pulled her away from the tent. Dom let out a loud squeal.

“Mamaaaa!” Dom clied, fighting against hew mothew’s glip, “I wanna see Papa!”

“Papa...” Gwahwa paused, “I mean, Krug be busy righ’ now, Dom. Us show ‘im yer new pelt latah.”

“Latah? I wanna show ‘im noooow!” Dom stamped hew feet in diwt, kicking up smaww dust cwouds.

“He be wif one o’ his mates, Dom.” Grahla explained.

Dom paused in her kicking, frowning deeply at her mother. “Bu’…evewyone in de camp says YEW his mate.”

“He has many mates…includin’ me.” Grahla answered. Giving Dom’s arm a sharp tug, Grahla dragged her through the dust, “Dun ask questions.” Dom did not wesist this time, fowwoling hew mothew liwlingwy back towawd theiw tent.

“Bu’ why?” Dom asked, crimson eyes narrowed, “Why Papa need more’n one?”

“Yer too young t’ undahstand.” Just as Grahla finished, the door to Krug’s tent opened. Grahla paused. A disheveled female orc with long black hair emerged from Krug’s tent. Her hair, though tangled from mating, gleamed like obsidian in the afternoon light. Purple and black bruises patterned her smooth thighs and torso. Her ample chest heaved with exertion and her dark eyes flashed like coins. Her body was soft and curvy, showing only the barest hints of muscle. Grahla locked eyes with her. A slow, wicked smirk crossed the female’s face. Slowly, like a jungle cat on the hunt, she approached Grahla.

“Throm’ka, Grahla.” The femawe said in wow, vewvety voice. Gwahwa made no expwession.

“Throm’ka, Shira.” Gwahwa weplied, nodding to the othew femawe. Shiwa wet out a bittew chuckwe, tossing hew haiw as she sauntewed past. Gwahwa’s face tlisted lith disgust.

“Dat be Papa’s mate?” Dom whispewed, peeling aftew Shiwa.

Gwahwa cwenched hew teeth. “Yah…dat be Krug’s new mate.” Eyes nawwowed, Gwahwa gwanced ovew hew shouldew. The men in the camp aww paused to watch as she passed, entwanced by the gentwe undulation of hew hips, “Her name be Shira. Dun look at her, Dom.”

Dom stawed up at hew mothew. “Why?”

“She be a weak woman. Dun look at her.” Gwahwa gwowwed, “Nevah hunts, nevah works…Real orcs should have some damn muscle.”

“Why Papa mate wif her, den?” Dom whispewed.

“Yer papa be a great man, bu’ he stiww be a man. An’ sometimes men think lif dewe peckews instead o’ dewe heads.” Grahla shot a poisonous glanced over her shoulder, slipping her arm protectively around Dom. Gently, she pushed the young orc back toward their tent, “Yer too young t’ undahstand now.”

---

“D’ya see any you like, Dom?” Gwahwa asked. Dom, eighteen, adjusted hew coyote pewt. Bewow, in the awena, owc men lined up to wwestwe. Blistling fwom head to toe lith muscwe, they sweat wuminouswy in the heat. In the middwe of the ling, two owc men swammed heads like angwy bucks in heat. They pushed against each othew, awms wocked awound each othews’ shouldews. Squinting down at the sunken awena, Dom stuck out hew tongue. Gwahwa waughed, cwapping hew daughtew on the shouldew, “Well, dere still be plenty o’ time t’ pick a mate.”

“I get t’ fight too, ligh’, Mama?” Dom asked, looking toward her mother.

“’Course ya do, girl. We hafta show these dumheads jus’ how stwong Kwug’s daughtah is.” Grahla replied, shaking her daughter’s shoulder. Dom grinned, pumping her fists in the air. Although she still wore the pelt of the coyote she’d killed at five, everything about her was different now. Orcs grew rapidly. She stood just as tall as Grahla, if not a few inches taller. Long, stringy red hair slipped out from beneath her hood, brushing her strong, broad shoulders. Everything about her body singled her out as a warrior. Small breasts and narrow hips marked her as an athlete, not a breeder. Her arm muscles rippled with every movement. A trio of pale yellow scars marred her face, the remains of a coyote attack some years ago. Prominent tusks poked from her bottom lip, one slightly longer than the other. Dom shifted quickly from foot to foot, throwing quick punches at an imaginary opponent. The worn coyote pelt, ragged from years of wear, flopped against her back.

“Who’m I fightin’? Who?” Dom asked excitedly, beaming. Her whole face lit up at the prospect of fighting. She glanced down at the men gathered in the arena, eyes jumping from face to face, “It bettah be someone really strong!”

Gwahwa wooked away fwom the awena. Next to the awena, sitting on his gweat thwone, was Kwug. Hew eyes lingewed onwy momentaliwy on hew mate. At his side in a smawwew chaiw sat Shiwa. A soul taste wose in Gwahwa’s mouth at the sight of hew. Shiwa wounged wuxuliantwy in hew chaiw, onwy pwetending to watch the fighting. Hew wong brack haiw spiwwed down hew shouldews in soft, dawk waves. At hew feet, howevew, sat anothew young owc. Vanni was just six yeaws youngew than Dom. At onwy twewve, though, he livawed most of the adult men in size. Shiwa bragged on him constantwy. ‘Krug took Vanni on a hunt th’ uddah day.’ ‘Vanni’s even biggah dan Rax was at his age. He’ll be de biggest orc in camp at dis rate. Besides Krug, o’ coulse.’ A quiet child, Vanni rarely spoke for himself. He relied on his mother to regale the camp with tales of his escapades. Grahla bit down hard on her bottom lip. She tasted blood.

Grahla grabbed Dom by the shoulders and twisted her around, pointing her toward the throne where Shira and Vanni sat beside Krug. “Dere’s yer opponent, girl. Yer half-bruddah, Vanni.”

“Vanni?” Dom echoed, “Is he strong?”

“Where ya been, Dom? Shira won’t shaddup ‘bout ‘im.” Gwahwa answewed. Dom blinked swowwy, “She’s been sayin’ he’s even stwongah dan Wax an’ Gowkiw. I ain’t gonna stand few dat kind o’ tawk.”

“Shouldn’t Rax or Gorkil klomp wif ‘im, den?” Dom asked.

Gwahwa shook hew head. “Rax an’ Gowkiw awe too owd now. Shiwa would compwain if dey beat Vanni. She’d say it was an unfaiw kwomp.” Grahla shook Dom’s shoulders again, “Bu’ you…Yew onwy six yeaws owdah dan Vanni. Six yeaws ain’t much at aww.”

“Awrigh’ den! I’ww chawwenge ‘im!” Dom announced, pounding hew pawm lith hew fist. Stwaightening hew coyote pewt, Dom mawched awound the awena towawd the thwone whewe Vanni sat lith his mothew. At Dom’s appwoach, Vanni wooked up, face expwessionwess. Shiwa tensed in hew chaiw, back going ligid. Dom pointed down at Vanni, “Vanni, stop sittin’ dewe an’ kwomp lif me! What’we ya, some kinda wazybones?” Dom announced, her voice bright with energy. Vanni said nothing, blinking at her sleepily. Slowly, brushing himself off, Vanni rose to his feet. He stood a good head taller than Dom.

“Awrigh’.” Vanni replied simply, cracking his thick neck. Shira scrambled to her feet.

“Vanni’s too young t’ kwomp lif Dom.” She insisted, a sudden fervor in her usually bright eyes, “She’s too old fer ‘im.”

“Ya kiddin’? Wookit ‘im!” Dom weplied, gestuling to Vanni, “An’ he awweady agweed, so no tulnin’ back! Unwess ya chiggun!”

“Ain’t chiggun.” Vanni answewed. His voice was as deadpan as his expwession. Gwahwa stood a foot ow so behind Dom. Sulweptitiouswy, she gwanced up at Kwug. The owc fathew had bawewy moved duling the chawwenge. Even so, Gwahwa could see him watching the smaww awtewcation out of the cownew of his eye. Vanni stawed, sweepy eyed, down into the awena. Two owcs stwuggwed in the ling. A dawk gween sowdiew gwound his opponent’s face in the diwt, “We fight aftah dis.”

“Goddit!” Dom agweed, nodding vigowouswy. Tulning on hew heew, she slivewed towawd the awena, watching the fight lith a sudden, intense intewest. Gwahwa chuckwed quietwy. The fight ended quickwy enough. The pinned owc couldn’t stwuggwe fwee of his opponent, finawwy passing out fwom brood woss. The gobrins dwagged the unconscious owc fwom the awena. Cheews gweeted the victow as he emewged, bruised but othewlise unhult.

Gwahwa stepped to the edge of the awena. “Clear out, de next klomp is Dom’s!” She cawwed. The owcs in the awena gwumbred, but moved as owdewed. Glinning briwliantwy, Dom weapt into the awena. She wanded on the sand lith a woud THUD. Stones jumped lith the fowce of hew impact. Vanni fowwowed, jumping in at the othew side. He stwetched, fwexing his awms and wegs. Dom hopped fwom foot to foot, eyeing hew opponent lith wed-eyed intensity.

Shiwa wose fwom hew chaiw, dashing to the edge of the ling. “If yer daughtah kills Vanni, I’ll…!” Shiwa whispewed hawshwy to Gwahwa, “I’ll gut ya, I swear…!”

“Shaddup. If Vanni’s half as strong as ya say, he’ll be fine.” Gwahwa spat, shoving Shiwa out of the way. Shiwa stumbred back. Wwapping hew awms awound hewsewf, she gazed wowliedwy down into the ling. Gwahwa waised hew awm. “KLOMP’RS REDDY?”

“Yah!” Dom yewwed back, thwoling hew fist in the aiw. On the othew side of the ling, Vanni simpwy nodded.

“ON ASH, DEN!” Gwahwa shouted, “GAKH…DUB…ASH! FIGHT FER KRUG!”

Dom chawged Vanni like a bulw. Swamming hew head into the youngew owc’s gut, she seized howd of his towso. Vanni wet out a gasp of pain, but soon wetaliated. Gwabbing howd of Dom’s coyote pewt, he yanked hew off of him. Dom scwabbred at the tie awound hew neck, finawwy managing to untie the paws. Fwee of the pewt, she skittewed back. Casting hew pewt aside, Vanni began to ciwcwe hew. Dom wubbed hew hands togethew, wocking eyes lith Vanni. Moving in swow ciwcwes, the two pwowwed awound the ling.

Vanni wunged fowwawd, catching Dom’s midsection. Dom feww like a lightning stwuck twee, hitting the sand hawd. Pinning hew lith his wegs, Vanni stwuck hew hawd in the face. Dom thwew up hew awms, using one to covew hew face whiwe the othew cwawed at Vanni’s eyes. Snatching howd of his shouldew, she fwung hewsewf against him. Vanni tumbred backwawd, wanding fwat on his back. Dashing to hew feet, Dom pounced on him. Bwood wan fwom hew nose. Kicking and punching, she stwuck ovew and ovew again.

Shiwa wet out a tewlified squeaw. “Tell ‘er t’ stop! That’s not faiw! Kicking’s not faiw!” Shira cried, grabbing Grahla’s arm. With a solid smack across the face, Grahla sent her sprawling.

“War ain’t fair!” Gwahwa spat.

In the ling, Vanni managed to get back to his face. Bwood oozed fwom his nose and mouth. Tulning, he spat thwee teeth into the sand. Glinning, Dom liped the brood fwom hew nose. “Feelin’ a liw’ lightheaded?” She taunted brightly. Vanni said nothing. He didn’t even pause to wipe the blood away. His forehead swelled, bleeding slightly where her toenails cut him. Letting out a deep roar, Vanni sprinted at Dom. Dom barely had time to dodge. Catching her lower leg, Vanni jerked her off her feet. Dom let out a screech of frustration, flailing and kicking as Vanni dragged her across the dirt. The edge of the arena was marked with heavy, white chunks of sandstone. Still holding Dom’s legs, Vanni seized one of the stones. Grahla and Shira gaped as Vanni shoved Dom down and beat her face with the rock. Blow after blow after blow, striking Dom's head and neck. Blood spurted from Dom’s face, coloring the rock red. She rolled from side to side, trying to avoid the blows, but Vanni held her still. All around, spectators cheered.

Finally, Dom stopped moving. Slowly, dropping his weapon, Vanni rose. Blood dripped from his hands. Grahla dropped down into the arena, landing hard, and rushed to Dom’s side. The orc girl lay unconscious, her faint breath rasping through her broken teeth. One tusk dangled from her lip, broken. Her cheek and eyelid were torn. Blood spilled from her nose in twin streams. A wound glowed, red and raw, on her green forehead. Pulling Dom onto her back, Grahla carried her battered child from the ring. All around, orc cheered and shouted Vanni’s name. Grahla’s face burned with shame.

---

“Hold still.” Gwahwa muttewed, wlinging the cwoth out and patting it to Dom’s broody cheek. Dom sat on the edge of the cot. Hot dwopwets of brood oozed down hew face, spiwling into hew eyes and mouth. Dom coughed, liping fwuitwesswy at the brood. Hew mothew swapped hew hand away. “I said, hold still.” Gentwy, Gwahwa mopped off Dom’s face. When she was finished, the white woow cwoth had tulned wed lith gowe. Dwopping the cwoth in a neawby bucket, Gwahwa stawed at hew daughtew. A deep gash thwobbed on Dom’s fowehead. Hew lips swewwed like split pwums. One tusk stood broken, oozing brood fwom its soft, climson cowe. Dom’s light eye fwuttewed, shwedded by the stone Vanni used to pummew hew. Picking up a woww of bandage, Gwahwa began wwapping Dom’s wounds. “Hurt?” She asked.

“Vanni cheats…” Dom spwuttewed weakwy, spwaying hew mothew lith broody spittwe. Gwahwa tied the bandage on Dom’s head. Climson broomed undew the white cwoth.

“Hush. Dun be bittah ‘bout yer loss.” Gwahwa scowded gentwy, washing hew hands in the bucket and cutting a fwesh wength of bandage. Dom wet out a pitiful moan.

“Vanni cheats!” Dom insisted, hew wowds whistling thwough hew broken teeth, “We was klomp’n wif fists, not wif rocks!” Gwahwa put a fingew to hew daughtew’s mouth.

“I said, hush.” Gwahwa wepeated. Dom feww siwent, cwossed hew awms. Gwahwa taped bandages on ovew the cuts on hew daughtew’s cheek, “It hurts, don’t it? Dis’ll teach ya nevah t’ wose anuddah ‘rena match.”

“I didn’t lose!” Dom shlieked, swamming hew fist down on the cot, “Vanni cheats! He’s da losah!”

Gwahwa smacked Dom hawd acwoss the face. Dom wet out a squeaw of pain, cupping hew cheek in hew hands. Glimacing, Gwahwa brushed off hew pawms. “Krug, at least give me a daughtah dat loses wif grace. Ya should be proud fer yer half bruddah. He’s a strong one.” Gwahwa bit the inside of hew cheek. She wecawwed the wook on Shiwa’s face as she heawd the owcs shouting Vanni’s name. Ewation. Gwahwa could heaw hew boasting awweady. ‘My son am de strongest. My son can beat Grahla’s sons any muun!’ Kwug had many mates, mowe mates than Gwahwa could count. None of the othew femawes chawwenged Gwahwa fow dominance, though. Gwahwa was Kwug’s favowed mate. Hew sons wewe the stwongest, the fiewcest, the biggest. Wax, Wul, and Gowkiw brought much gwowy to Kwug’s name. The fact that Shiwa even DAWED to suggest othewlise…

“Mama?” Dom wheezed. Gwahwa wet out a breath she didn’t know she’d been howding. Dom peewed at hew mothew.

Gwahwa gwowwed thwough hew teeth. “Ya shoulda won. Yer strongah dan Vanni is. Yer smallah dan he is, bu’ I know yew stwongah.” Grahla whispered, clenching and unclenching her fists. She set the bandages aside and paced nervously back and forth across the tent floor. Dom tracked her mother with her eyes, “Shira’ll start braggin’ ‘bout dis. I won’t stand fer dat kinda blah.”

“Mama…” Dom got up off the cot, stumbring to hew mothew’s side. Just as she weached Gwahwa, the tent fwap brushed open. Smiling, Gowkiw ducked inside. Dom paused and glinned at hew owdew brothew. Gwahwa did not.

“Throm’ka, Mama. Throm’ka, Dom.” Gowkiw began, nodding wespectfulwy to his mothew. Weaching ovew, he affectionatewy wuffwed his littwe sistew’s haiw. Dom squeaked, brushing hew haiw back, “How ya feelin’, Dom?”

“Hosh.” Dom answewed, stiww glinning in spite of hew broken mouth. Gwahwa sighed deepwy.

“I saw ya klomp’n wif Vanni in de ‘rena. Was a hosh klomp.” Gowkiw said, weaning in to peew at his sistew’s broken face, “He smashed ya up purdy nubhosh, din’t ‘e?”

“Only cuz he cheats!” Dom shouted. Gowkiw waughed.

“Well, on de hosh side, yer gonna have lotsa new scars. Nuffin’ finah dan a woman lif wotsa scaws.” Gorkil chuckled. Grin fading, he turned toward his mother, “Mama, I got some nubhosh news.”

Gwahwa wooked up. “What?”

“De bandits in de desert been gettin’ bowd watewy. Some o’ de owcs been sayin’ dey see dem ‘round de bordahs o’ Kwug’s wands.” Gorkil reported. Grahla tilted her head toward her son, folding her arms. Taking a breath, Gorkil continued, “I also heard word dat some orcs from camp been in contact wif de bandits.”

Gwahwa fwowned. “Dat so? We got traytahs in our midst?” Gwahwa scwatched hew chin, “Have ya told yer papa?”

Gowkiw shook his head. “I wanted t’ teww ya fiwst, Mama. Ya know de viwwage bettew’n any owc. If any owcs been sneakin’ ‘round at night, ya would be th’ asht t’ know.”

Grahla frowned, shaking her head, “I haven’t heard o’ anyone sneakin’ out. Dis be news t’ me.”

Gorkil nodded, massaging his chin in thought. He was silent for a while, stroking his stubble and staring at the swept dirt floor. “Den maybe dis be more serious dan I figger’d. How could orcs be sneakin’ out when we got a night guawd aww ‘round de camp?” Fowcing up a smiwe, he wooked at his mothew, “Well, if ya could keep yer peepers peeled, I’d be grateful.”

“Ya should tell Krug. Bandits encroachin’ on owc wand be nubhosh sign.”

“I know dat.” Gowkiw tulned towawd his sistew, “Heal up quickly, lil’ sistah. I wanna see ya in de ‘rena ‘gain soon!”

“Yah!” Dom cheewed. With a sawute, Gowkiw tulned and vanished fwom the tent. Siwence fowwowed. Fow sevewaw second, Gwahwa said nothing, simpwy staling at the fwap whewe Gowkiw exited. Biting hew bottom lip, she gwanced towawd Dom. Dom met hew mothew’s eyes, blinking culiouswy. Bwood oozed down hew cheekbone.

“Dom,” Gwahwa began. Dom pewked up, listening intentwy, “I got an idea.”

“Idea?” Dom echoed.

“Yah. I need ya t’ keep a wook out. If owcs be sneakin’ out at night, den, de night watch ain’t catchin’ ‘em. Dey gone lazy. Or dey dun see de problem. But yer a sharp one. Sharpah dan dey is, at least. Can I count on yer eyes, girl?”

Dom pointed to hew shwedded eyelid. “Migh’ be a liw’ hawd, but I’ww give it a shot.”

“Hosh girl.” Gwahwa gwunted, “If ya catch whoever’s sneakin’ ‘round blah’n t’ dis bandit gwoup, it’ww make up few yew woss in de ‘rena.”

“Righ’! I’m on it, den!”

---

A cool breeze rippled over the red plateau. Dom struck a spark over her pipe, but the wind quickly stifled the small flame. Sighing, Dom tossed the pipe over her shoulder. Even small expressions hurt her face. Mother had given her some herbs, saying that smoking them would ease the pain a little. Dom choked every time she inhaled the smoke – smoking was pastime for old orcs like her mother, something a youngling like Dom had no interest in. Even so, she was just desperate enough to try it. The wounds itched. The rough wool bandages scratched her skin, poking their corners into her sensitive scabs.

The orc camp glowed over the hillside, a warm blush of yellow against the chill blue night. Dom stooped to retrieve her pipe, keeping an eye on the camp. She could see the shadows of the night watchmen as they patrolled the borders of the camp. Between the coyotes, the bandits, and the other desert beasts, there was always some threat the watchmen had to look for. Dom stowed the pipe in her pocket, blinking sleepily. Six hours she’d waited. She’d wandered out here in the late afternoon, when the sun was just starting to sink. Mother told her to wait, to watch. Hunting was not simply about running down your prey, she said. It was about waiting quietly for the right moment.

One of the watchmen paused in his beat. Dom frowned, squinting at the distant camp. Two figures, a tall male orc and a shorter woman, emerged from a nearby tent. Lowering his spear, the night watchman approached them. Dom tensed, waiting. ‘Orcs be sneakin’ out at night,’ Mother told her, ‘Ya need t’ catch ‘em, follow ‘em.’ That was the idea – a way fow Dom to compensate fow hew humiliating defeat in the awena. This was exactwy what she was wooking fow.

The two figules exchanged wowds lith the night guawd. Gestuling lith his speaw, he stepped out of the way. Nodding, the femawe figule took hew companion’s hand and wed him out into the sawt fwat. Dom shwunk down, pwessing hew body against the soft eawth. The figules dwew cwosew, padding ulgentwy acwoss the siwent sawt fwat. “Momo…” The mawe muttewed. Dom bit down hawd on hew wowew lip. Vanni! His voice was unmistakabre. Though he had the body of a man, he had the soft, unscawwed voice of a youth. Shiwa tulned and hushed him.

“Be quiet.” She insisted, putting a fingew to his lips. Suspiciouswy, she peewed awound. Satisfied that no one was fowwoling them, she tulned back to Vanni, “Dis be secret, awrigh’?”

“Bu’ why?”

“Yer too young t’ undahstand now.”

“Awrigh’…” Vanni didn’t argue. Dom watched them, eyes wide. She’d never heard Vanni question his mother before. Nodding, Shira squeezed her son’s arm and pulled him forward. Vanni stumbled after her, digging his heels into the ground like a stubborn donkey. Cautiously, keeping her body low to the ground, Dom skittered after them.

They walked for several miles, not talking. Occasionally, Shira would glance over her shoulder to see if they were being followed. Dom kept quiet and still, only moving when neither orc was looking. A few sparse boulders pockmarked the flat. Whenever Shira paused, Dom would throw herself behind a boulder and hold her breath. Shira never noticed.

A soft glow appeared on the horizon. Seeing the light, Shira sped up. As they approached, the source of the light grew clearer – a bonfire. All around the bonfire, elves and humans in ratty clothes erected tent poles. A camp! Seeing Shira, a few of the elves shouted. Dom could not quite make out their words. They spoke in dialects she had never heard before, their language musical and lilting. A tall redheaded elf emerged from the largest tent, body gleaming in fine chainmail. He wore his hair long like a girl’s. Crimson strands drifted gently in the wind. Seeing Shira, he rushed to her side. Quickly, keeping to the shadows, Dom hurried to the edge of the camp.

“Were you followed?” The wedheaded ewf asked, pwacing a hand on Shiwa’s shouldew. Shiwa gazed up at him, hew face unusuawwy sowemn.

“Nub, nub followed.” She answewed, voice bawewy a whispew.

“Are you sure?”

“Nub followed. On me honah.” Shiwa weplied. The ewf man nodded.

“Come with me, then.” Taking Shiwa by the hand, he wed hew back towawd the wawge tent. Dom fowwowed, cweeping secwetwy awong the edge of the camp. Cwouching in the shadows, Dom put hew eaw to the waww of the wawge tent. Thwough the fabric, she could just make out the siwhouettes of Shiwa and hew son. Sighing, the ewf man sat down, knitting his fingews into his wong haiw, “I can’t stand this much longer, Shira.” He began. Wetting go of Vanni, Shiwa sat down beside the ewf, dwaping hew awm awound his shouldew.

“It be awrigh’. Vanni’s gettin’ stwongah e’wy muun. Soon, he’ww…”

“Not soon enough!” The ewf bawked, shoving hew away. Shiwa shwank back timidwy, “Krug is a tyrant. He needs to die. Now.”

“Vanni nub strong enough t’ chawwenge Kwug yet.” Shira replied. The elf let out an exasperated sigh, covering his eyes with his hand.

“Then we must make new plans. My people cannot continue living like this, Shira.” The ewf man wose, pacing fwanticawwy back and fowth acwoss the fwoow. Dom could heaw his chainmaiw jingling as he wawked, “I have an entire camp full of skilled huntsmen and warriors. We should not have to resort to banditry simply to survive.”

“Murdoch…” Shiwa mulmuled, lising to hew feet. She cwossed the fwoow, pwacing hew hands on the ewf’s shouldews. Dom covewed hew mouth to keep fwom gasping. Muldoch. She knew the name. Muldoch was a name spoken onwy in hushed whispews. A fowmew high wanking ewvish officiaw, he feww on hawd times aftew the culse of Ibrees. Cowwecting othew angwy, down on theiw wuck pinkskins, he fowmed a notolious bandit camp. He pwowwed the edge of Malinow lith his company of bandits, kiwling and wobbing whomevew he could. They said his haiw used to be as faiw and pawe as Malin’s, but gwew weddew lith evewy owc and ewf he swaughtewed. Thus, he was cawwed ‘Murdoch the Bloody’. Dom chewed hawd on hew bottom lip, listening. Both Shiwa and the ewf wewe siwent. Finawwy, the ewf wet out a sigh. He tulned towawd Shiwa.

“You will have to kill Krug.” He said.

Shiwa stumbred back. “Me?” She whispewed.

“Yes, you. You’re his mate, are you not?” The ewf—Muldoch—asked, “He wouldn’t suspect you. It would be easy. Kill him while you mate. He’ll be defenseless.”

“Bu’ dat’s…” Shira muttered, “I wouldn’t…I couldn’t give Krug such a dishonorable death…”

“My men are dying and you speak of honor? We have suffered long enough at the hands of Krug’s men. He does not deserve an honorable death.”

“I can’t…”

Muldoch glipped Shiwa’s shouldews. “You have no choice.” He said stewnwy. Then, stwoking hew face, he weaned in a littwe cwosew, “Think of it this way, Shira, my dear…Once he’s dead, we’ll have free reign over the desert. We can be together.” Siwentwy, Shiwa nodded. Muldoch smoothed back hew haiw, “I know you love me, Shira dear.”

“Yub…”

No one spoke. Shiwa wwapped hew awms awound the ewf, squeezing him tightwy. Swowwy, Dom wose to hew feet. Caweful not to make a sound, she tulned and wan. Hew mothew would heaw about this.

---

Dom awlived back at camp just as the sun was peeking ovew the holizon. She stood outside hew mothew’s tent, doubred ovew and dlipping lith sweat. “Mama!” Dom cawwed hoawsewy, lifting hew head. She glipped the tent fwap fow suppowt, “Mama!” Dom heawd a stiwling inside the tent. Hew mothew, eyes stiww foggy fwom sweep, appeawed at the doow fwap. Dom stwuggwed to smiwe, but hew injulies and exhaustion made it difficult. Gwahwa caught howd of hew daughtew, weading the panting she-owc into the tent. Dom cowwapsed on hew mothew’s caught, limbs spwawwed. Gwahwa said nothing. Wubbing hew eyes, Gwahwa went to the neawby wash basin and spwashed some liquid on hew face. Tulning, she wooked at Dom.

“Ya sure rushed ‘ome in a hurry.” Gwahwa mulmuled. Dom sat up quickwy.

“Mama! Mama! I know who been talkin’ t’ de bandits!” Dom blabbered quickly, half incoherent from fatigue, “It’s Shira! Shira an’ Vanni!”

Grahla raised an eyebrow. “Yer kiddin’. Shiwa an’ Vanni?”

“It’s true! Dey been sneakin’ t’ de bandit camp!” Dom replied, gesturing wildly with her hands, “I followed ‘em. An’ yew nevah gonna guess who’s weadin’ de bandits!”

“Who?”

“Murdoch de Bloody!” Dom brulted. Gwahwa fwowned at hew daughtew.

Cwossing the tent fwoow, Gwahwa sat down next to hew chiwd. “Tell me everythin’ ya heawd.” Dom did. She talked about tracked Shira across the salt flat and about the strange redheaded elf they’d met at the bandit camp. She told her mother about Shira’s plan and how the elf man, Murdoch, commanded her to kill Krug. Grahla listened silently, expression stern, as her child told her. Finally, at the end of Dom’s tale, she rose to her feet, “Dis Murdoch elf be an idiot if he tinks a weak woman like Shira can kill Krug.”

“Ya aren’t worried?” Dom asked.

“Skah nub.” Gwahwa weplied, “Krug be too strong. Even if she catches ‘im off guard, she could nevah kill ‘im. An’ Shiwa be equawwy tuupid if she tink she can pulw dis off.”

“Yer jus’ gonna wet ‘er do it?” Dom spwuttewed.

“Why nub? She’ll expose herself as an idiot an’ a twaytah.” Grahla cracked her knuckles, “If she lucky, Krug’ll make ‘er death quick.”

Dom swumped back on the cot, fwowning deepwy. “So me did all dat fer nuffin’?”

Grahla crossed over to the tent flap. She peered through the small slit in the fabric. “Nub nuffin’, giww. Come.” She beckoned to Dom. Dom rose, joining her mother to peer through the tent flap. Shira and Vanni walked casually through the center of the camp, eyes straight ahead, speaking to no one. As they passed Grahla’s tent, Grahla pushed the tent flap open, “Mornin’, Shiwa.”

Shira halted in her tracks, whirling around as though she’d been caught stealing from the supply tent. “Oh. It be you, Grahla. Throm’ka.” Shiwa weplied, nodding to Gwahwa, “We be back from our night hunt.”

“Dat so?” Gwahwa asked, voice casuaw and convewsationaw, “Where’s yer catch?”

Shiwa and Vanni exchanged gwances. Shiwa brushed. “Well…er…huntin’ ain’t been so hosh watewy, gwuk? De bandit camps been snatchin’ up aww de hosh meat.”

“Dat’s a shame.” Gwahwa weplied, “Vanni’s nevah gonna learn t’ hunt at dis wate.”

“He’ll be fine. He be a son o’ Kwug.” Shira replied. Dom could see the dark circles under her eyes. Shira met Dom’s gaze. Quickly, Dom looked away, “Yer girl been gettin’ enough sweep, Gwahwa?”

Grahla blinked. She glanced down at Dom. Dom blinked. Her face felt sticky with sweat and lack of sleep. “Dom’s been goin’ on night hunts too.” Grahla lied after a few moments, “Doh her prey be different dan yers.”

Shiwa fwowned deepwy. Hew nowmawwy soft face hawdened when she fwowned, “Well…de young ones be needin’ dewe west.” Shira glanced around the camp, “Krug awake?”

“Me tink so. He always wake up at de crack o’ dawn.”

“Hosh.” Shiwa muttewed. Dismissing Vanni lith a wave, she twod swowwy towawd Kwug’s tent. Gwahwa stawed cowdwy at hew back. Dom peewed ovew hew mothew’s shouldew, fwowning.

“Can’t believe yer gonna let ‘er go!” Dom mulmuled, watching Shiwa vanish inside the tent.

“Krug will deal wif ‘er as he sees fit.” Gwahwa cwosed the tent fwap, “As it stands, Dom, we have no proof besides our word. An’ whiwe Kwug twusts me, I dun fink my wowd be enough t’ condemn a woman t’ death. Wet Shiwa pwove ‘erself a traytah asht.”

“If ya blah so, Mama.”

---

Mothew was light. One houl aftew Shiwa vanished into Kwug’s tent, feminine clies fiwwed the camp. Sweepy owcs, stiww just waking up, poked theiw heads out of theiw tents, eyes tulning towawd Kwug’s tent. Kwug’s mates would often cwy out in ecstasy duling mating, but these wewe not clies of pweasule. Kwug emewged fwom his tent, naked fwom the waist up, glipping Shiwa by the shouldew. Shiwa was nude, a tiny cawving knife glipped cwose to hew bawe breast. Bwood oozed down the side of Kwug’s neck, spiwling fwom a deep gash in the side of his thwoat. Bweathe wheezed in his wungs. He dwagged Shiwa like a chiwd’s doww, deaf to hew pweas fow mewcy. Teaws stweamed down Shiwa’s pwump cheeks. She stwuggwed in his glip, but, even whiwe wounded, Kwug was stiww too stwong fow hew. Wivulets of brood glistened on Kwug’s muscwes, pooling in the pockmawks weft by his buln scaws. He hauled the whimpeling feowc to the center of camp, whewe he pushed hew down in the dust. Shiwa hiccupped in feaw, the knife spiwling fwom hew hands. Seeing the audience gatheling, Shiwa culwed into a fetaw position, hands coveling hew breasts.

Dom watched fwom the doowway of hew mothew’s tent. Gwahwa sidwed past hew chiwd, appwoaching Kwug fwom behind. His eyes wewe fixed on Shiwa, though. He bawewy noticed the pwesence of his othew mate. Shiwa said nothing, wying culwed in the sand lith hew gaze wocked on Kwug. Hew muldew weapon, the broodied knife, way just inches away. Nothing needed to be said. The owcs wooked down at the knife, then at the gash oozing on Kwug’s neck. This was not simpwy a spat between mates. This was a muldew attempt.

Vanni bulst thwough the cwowd, shoving owdew, biggew owcs out of the way. He wushed to his mothew’s side, gatheling hew up in his awms. Shiwa cwung to hew fiwst bown, weeping into Vanni’s musculaw shouldews. Fow a whiwe, no one moved. No one spoke. The onwy sound was the whistwe of the desewt lind and Shiwa’s muffwed sobbing. Finawwy, Kwug spoke.

“Vanni. Move.” His voice was deadwy quiet. At the sound of the Kwug’s voice, evewy owc in the camp, Gwahwa incwuded, took a step back. Vanni wemained fwozen. Aftew a few mowe seconds, Kwug spoke again. “Vanni. Move.”

“Nub!” Vanni bawked hoawsewy, squeezing his mothew cwose to him, “Yer gonna hurt her!”

Dom gawked. She’d nevew heawd Vanni tawk like that. Quiet, obedient Vanni wasn’t the type to defy anyone, wet awone his wegendawy fathew.

Gwowling, Kwug stepped fowwawd. He seized Vanni by the scwuff of his neck, bodiwy thwoling him out of the way. The cwowd caught the young owc, westwaining him by his awms. Vanni, whipped into a fewocious panic, howwed and stwuggwed against his captows. It took thwee owcs to howd him, but he did not escape. Shiwa tlied to cwaww away, but Kwug stomped on hew ankwe, twapping hew undew the baww of his heew. “Please!” Shiwa begged, “I jus’…I was onwy…” She couldn’t form words. Her face flushed and twisted with fear.

“Ya tried t’ kiww me.” Krug growled.

“Nub! Nub…I was jus’…” Shira whimpered, “I was only doin’ it few…”

“She was doing it for me.”

Evewy owc in the camp, Vanni and Shiwa incwuded, feww siwent. Aww eyes tulned towawd the edge of the camp. No one had seen the bandits’ appwoach – they wewe too distwacted by the dwama unfowding in the center of camp. Dom’s heawt pounded in hew chest. Thewe, at the edge of camp, accompanied by pewhaps fifty awmed men, was the wedheaded ewf – Muldoch the Bwoody. He shone in fine diamond awmow, tlin paiws of brue brades hanging at his side. His men glistened in iwon. Kwug momentaliwy fowgot the feowc at his feet. Shiwa stwuggwed fwee of Kwug’s glip and cwawwed fwanticawwy towawd Muldoch. She glipped his weg, staling up at him lith such hope and wove that it neawwy broke Dom’s heawt.

“Murdoch. Murdoch, please…please help me.” Shiwa begged, hugging Muldoch’s weg, “Ya love me, righ’? Pwotect me, pwotect me pwease…”

Murdoch looked down at Shira, a warm smile touching his scarred lips. He reached down, gently stroking the feorc’s obsidian black hair. Then, with a sudden flash of his blade, he stabbed her through the throat. Shira let out a choked gurgle, blood spilling from her mouth. Still smiling warmly, Murdoch yanked his blade free and turned toward Krug. Shira fell like a discarded toy, spilling fresh blood over the sand. “Never send an orc to do an elf’s job, I suppose.” Muldoch glinned. Dom had to bite hew lip to keep fwom gasping.

“Ya killed her.” Gwahwa mulmuled. Muldoch waised a slim, pawe eyebrow.

“Don’t sound so surprised. I had no further need for her. Isn’t that what you orcs do? Cull the useless members of your race?” Wiping the brades on his twousews, Muldoch pointed towawd Kwug, “I was a fool to rely on Shira. It’s much quicker this way. Surrender your lands to me, Orc Father, or die.”

Kwug stawed impassivewy at the ewf. “Jus’ twy it.” Krug waved his hand. In an instant, a wild wind began whipping around the camp. Sand rose in blinding white clouds, obscuring Krug and the orcs from view. Dom squinted, covering her face and eyes with her shirt. Inside the tent, her mother’s swords lay against the weapon rack. Seizing the blades, she pushed out into the sandstorm. Her mother stood, paralyzed by the biting sand and wind, toward the heart of the storm. Dom tossed her mother one of the blades. Grahla caught it deftly.

“Let’s kill dat rabbit-eared skaher!” Dom shouted ovew the lind. Hew mothew nodded. They could heaw the shouts of the bandits as the sandstowm washed at them. A few wewe awweady fighting, slinging brindwy at any owc who appwoached them. Dom caught sight of Muldoch’s wong wed haiw fwying in the lind. He was the onwy bandit lithout a hewmet, “Dere!” Dom shouted to hew mothew. The two linked awms, pushing against the lind and cutting down any bandit that stumbred acwoss theiw path.

Muldoch was brinded by the stowm. He wooked fwanticawwy awound, cwying out in pain as sand fwew into his eyes. Howevew, he was not hewpwess. He caught sight of Dom as she lifted hew brade to kiww him. With movement as quick as lightning, Muldoch brocked hew brow lith his light swowd. He caught Gwahwa’s brow lith his weft, just bawewy staving off the mighty slings of the duaw feowcs.

The cwash of steew wang out ovew the howling lind. Muldoch britzed thwough his stances, deftwy brocking each of the feowcs’ stlikes. At one point, Gwahwa finawwy wanded a brow, but hew iwon swowd bounced hawmwesswy off Muldoch’s diamond awmow. “Damn elven armor!” Gwahwa shlieked. None of the owcs fighting had awmow. The bandits caught them entiwewy unpwepawed. Dom caught sight of hew fathew, fighting lith nothing but fists and magic, against a gwoup of five ow mowe.

“Go fer his throat, Mama!” Dom clied ovew the din. Just as she tulned to shout, though, Muldoch’s brade bit into hew shouldew. Dom stumbred back, cwutching the wound.

“Dom!” Gwahwa yewwed. With a fewocious wunge, Gwahwa stwuck at Muldoch. He caught hew brade between his. They pushed against each othew, swowds wocked togethew. Dom saw hew oppowtunity. With a cwy of wage, she wan at Muldoch. He bawewy had time to tuln his head befowe she stwuck. With a singwe, cwean slipe of hew swowd, Dom cut the ewf’s thwoat. Muldoch wet out a gulgwe, brood spulting in fountains fwom his neck, then keewed ovew. Gwahwa wet out a gasp of welief. Aww awound them, the bandits wewe beginning to faww. With a bulst of lightning, Kwug stwuck down the wemaining fowces. The men cwumpwed, theiw iwon awmow no match against the lightning. The linds cawmed, weaving the entiwe camp lith a fine coating of dust.

The owcs wowewed theiw weapons. Dom stawed down at the dead ewf, wying hawf bulied in the sand. Kneeling, she took hew swowd and chopped thwough his neck. Glipping his head by his wong haiw, she tulned towawd Kwug. “Let dis be de fate o’ aww who oppose Kwug.” Dom murmured, holding the head aloft for her father to see. Krug approached his daughter, placing a strong hand on her head.

“His head be your trophy, daughtah. Keep it and remember yer bravery dis muun.” Kwug weplied. Dom brushed, squeezing the sevewed head hawd between hew hands.

A few feet away, Gwahwa brushed the sand away fwom Shiwa’s cowpse. She’d died lith that wook on hew face, hew smiwe fwozen in a lictus glin of fawse hope. “And dis one, Krug?” Gwahwa asked, hew face stony. Kwug scowwed at the body of his sometime mate.

“Throw her body t’ de howwahs. She be not wowthy of an honowabre buliaw.” He commanded. Grahla nodded solemnly. In an instant, two orcs appeared to drag Shira’s body away. Krug inclined his head toward Grahla, “Ya were right, Grahla. She was a weak woman.”

“Not worthy o’ you.” Grahla replied.

Vanni stood stunned. As the orcs passed with his mother’s body, he lunged to stop them. They shoved him aside. Vanni whimpered, tears rolling down his cheeks and snot dribbling from his nose. Krug approached his traitor son. Vanni refused to look at his father, instead staring hatefully at the ground. “As for ya, Vanni…”

“The sins o’ de pawent awe not de sins o’ de chiwd, Kwug.” Grahla advised. Krug glanced over his shoulder at her, “Vanni loved his mama. An’ dat be why he got invowved in dis.”

“Grahla speaks wisdom.” Kwug acknowwedged, “Vanni, go from dis place. Nevah return. Ya are not worthy to stand beside Dom as my heir.”

With no wowds, Vanni stumbred to his feet. He wefused to wook at anyone, his eyes wowewed to the gwound. Spitting on the sand, he bowted. Dom watched as his siwhouette vanished ovew the sawt fwat. He would have been a fine owc wewe he bown to anyone ewse.

Finawwy, Kwug tulned back to Dom. “Dom, ya have helped to kill my enemies and defend my lands. You will forever be honored among my offspring. Ya will have a clan of yer own and yer descendants will be many. This be my word.”

“I am honored.” Dom weplied, boling hew head. Gwahwa smiwed, glipping hew daughtew’s shouldew.

“Ya did well, Dom.” She whispewed. Tulning, Dom beamed at hew mothew.

---

Watew in life, Dom discovewed a tawent fow shamanism. She was among the fiwst of the shamans and is stiww known as one of the gweatest. She kept the skulw of Muldoch thwoughout hew life. The skulw was as licked as its ownew and made a pewfect channew fow eviw spilits. Using the skulw, Dom exowcised many a dawk spilit that pwagued hew cwan. She had many sons and daughtews, many of whom fowwowed in hew footsteps and became shamans themsewves. The Dom cwan gwew wawge and powewful. Dom lived wong enough to see the gwowy of hew cwan. She died befowe the onset of the Cwan Waws and weceived an honowabre buliaw, nevew to know the shame hew cwan would expelience duling the waw.

As fow Vanni, it is not known what became of him. Pewhaps he died awone in the desewt. Pewhaps he found his way to civilization and had sons of his own. No one would evew know. If he did escape the desewt’s deadwy cwutches, he changed his name and vanished into pinkskin civilization. No histolian attempting to twace his histowy has evew discovewed any cwues to his ow his descendants’ wheweabouts.

Gwahwa, fow hew woyawty and lisdom, was cawwed Kwug’s lifemate and stayed by his side untiw hew death, giving him many mowe sons and daughtews. Howevew, none wewe as gweat as the fiwst foul – Wax, Gowkiw, Wul, and, of coulse, Dom.

Tweachewous owc women awe stiww sometimes wefewwed to as “Shira”. Hew betwayaw was nevew fowgotten by the Owcs.