Azug paused a moment. The biting winds of the Reach roared down from the mountaintops, but for a brief instant he thought they carried a new sound with them.
He crouched low, hoping the sparse shrubbery of the rocky crags would give him just enough cover to avoid detection as his ears strained to find the sound again. The winds whistled past, uncaring. Trying to quiet his breathing and still the sound of his pounding heart, he thought he heard the noise again: a single, solitary howl.
Now he relied on his eyes. There was only one direction the beast could have fled, and... There. Pacing back and forth under the cover of a trio of boulders, jagged rocks like orc-sized talons reaching out of the ground, was the wolf. It was a big one, its dark mangy fur giving it away against the backdrop of the gray rock. It hadn't noticed Azug. Yet.
For once grateful for the cold winds whipping through the peaks ---  it would be almost impossible to find a position that actually was upwind of the animal --- Azug silently raised his bow and drew an arrow from the quiver slung over his back. Flinching at the thin scraping sound made by the iron head as it ran along the leather quiver, he hoped the mountains wouldn't choose that moment to catch their breath. His luck held though, and the breeze remained constant. He raised the bow - inhale, exhale - notched the arrow - hold the exhale - drew the string towards his body - deep inhale - and took careful aim - slow exhale, then hold it. He let his shot fly.
The arrow cut through the air in a gentle arch. Following its path with his gaze, Azug felt his spirit soar. Now that it wouldn't affect his shot, he couldn't help but revel in his racing pulse, his rapid breathing. The time for stealth had passed, no matter what the arrow decided to do.
He let out a whoop when he saw it pierce the wolf right behind its left shoulder. The creature went down with a yelp. Azug drew his dagger and closed the rest of the distance between himself and the wounded animal, still exultant with the thrill of the hunt. The wolf looked up at him as he approached. It attempted to stand, its hackles rising and a snarl crawling its way out from between its bared fangs, but collapsed back down into the blood-stained mud.
Reverently and cautiously, Azug paced closer. A wounded animal could still fight. This wolf, it turned out, wasn't going to, and Azug finished the job quickly and as cleanly as he could.
"Nice shot!" came the call, shattering the sacred moment. Azug looked up as his older brother, Nagrub, worked his way up the hill. Behind him lumbered Ghorbash, their uncle.
"I know it was," Azug stated plainly when his brother was close enough to hear without having to shout.
"It could have been better," Ghorbash chastised. "But it got the job done," he conceded with a smile. Â "Nagrub, go tell your mother that we found the beast that was giving the goats a hard time."
Nagrub obeyed his uncle, and dashed off again.
Azug and his uncle skinned the wolf together in silence. It was Azug who eventually spoke first, after the work had been done and they stood up to stretch their knees out.
"I'm leaving tomorrow."
His uncle didn't even look up, but took a second before he  responded.
"Are you sure that's what you want?"
"I am. There's no place for me here," Azug said.
"That doesn't have to be true, and you know that."
"I'm not as strong or as good with a hammer as Umurn. I'm a better shot than Nagrub, maybe, but he's much faster with an axe. We both know Shel's son, if she ever conceives, will be the one getting all the special treatment, anyway."
Ghorbash frowned at his nephew. "Murbul will not be pleased with your decision. She sought the guidance of Malacath for days when I returned from my travels before she would even let me back inside the walls of our stronghold. If you leave, as long as she is the wise woman and her son, your father, remains chief, you will never again have a place here."
"I know. And my decision stays," Azug insisted.
Ghorbash didn't say anything after that, just lifted the pelt over his shoulders and took the lead back down the hill towards Dushnikh Yal.
Quiet minutes later, they heard the pounding of feet, and Nagrub came soaring down over their heads, leaping off the boulder to their left and landing roughly, but standing, a few feet away. The sounds of more footsteps drew near.
"I figured you'd be angry at me if I didn't share," was his only explanation as he drew his bloodied axe and took a few steps back.
Several bandits came running around the rocks. Imperials and Nords, they wore thick furs to keep the cold at bay. They stumbled a little, unsure about whether they wanted to take on the three orcs, but the decision was made for them when Ghorbash and Azug both drew their own axes and charged.
The fight was over quickly. Ghorbash shrugged off blows as though they were water, and Nagrub dashed in and out of reach quicker than the bandits could react. Azug, wishing he'd worn something heavier than the furs he'd put on that morning, pulled his own weight by going after the bandits near the rear that attempted to turn and flee.
When the last of the bandits was slain and the orcs finished cleaning their axes, the three started on their way back once again. The wolf pelt, cast onto the ground at the beginning of the fight, was sticky with mud, but none of the them cared. They had enjoyed the fight too much to.
Arob, the mother of Azug and Nagrub, was waiting for them at the gates of the wooden wall around the stronghold.
"What took you so long?" she complained, reaching out to take the pelt from Ghorbash, obviously unhappy with its quality.
"Nagrub found bandits," Ghorbash said, smiling and stretching.
Arob raised her eyebrow. "Did you get them all?"
"Of course," answered Nagrub, still flush from the struggle.
Ghorbash pushed past the three, leaving them to talk.
"Which of you slayed the beast?" Arob asked.
"I did," Azug claimed, a hint of pride in his voice.
"It was just a wolf," Arob remarked. "At least the goats will probably keep quiet for a while, now. Here," she continued, handing the pelt to Azug. "You killed it, you can go clean it."
Azug took the pelt from his mother, his good mood ruined by the wounding of his pride. He carried it up the hill to the small hut near the forge, where his father's forge-wife and one of her sons were working on hammering out some new blades.
His half-brother looked up at Azug, grunted, and looked back down at the hot metal he was working on bending into shape.
"Wolf hide," Azug explained to Gharol, his half-brother's mother. She only nodded, and they both let him have a little space to work on it in. The process took the rest of the afternoon, but by the end of it Azug was feeling better. Having something to keep him busy, especially if it pertained to the fruits of his hunts, always made him happier. Throw a good fight somewhere into the mix, he figured, and you'd had a pretty damn good day.
Azug took his time in heading back to the chieftain's longhouse, knowing that if there was any room at the table for him, it would be at the very end, cramped just a foot or two from the heat of the fire. Part of him was going to miss Dushnikh Yal, he supposed. But the other part of him, the part that sang with the twang of the bow and swish of the axe, was glad to be leaving. The stronghold felt like a cage, and had for quite some time. His only regret was perhaps taking so long to leave in the first place.
He considered again telling his mother that he was planning on leaving. He wasn't sure whether she would be happy or sad at the news. Nagrub, her oldest, had always been her favorite, even though she'd tried her best to hide it and probably didn't even know it herself. If one of them were to become chief after their father had grown old, Azug knew she would prefer if it were him.
Azug finally gave into his hunger, and went into the longhouse. Sure enough, there wasn't any space left at the table. Not even bothering to feel offended, he grabbed a piece of the goat meat they'd prepared for the meal, and took it outside to eat.
Early the next morning, Azug rose from his bed. Taking only his furs and his axe, he snuck past the sleeping forms of his family. He stuffed a cheese wheel and a dried pheasant into the cloth bag he'd had ready for this, and quietly left the longhouse of his father.
The sky above was filled with dark clouds that blocked out the stars and would have hidden the sun if it wasn't still several hours from rising. The air smelled like rain, but Azug was committed and wasn't going to let a drizzle keep him from following through on his choice.
Oddly enough, he noticed, the fire in the central yard still burned.
"Are you still sure about this?" his uncle asked, emerging from the shadows around the well to Azug's left and taking his place by the blaze.
"I am," Azug answered quietly, lest he wake one of the others and spoil everything.
Ghorbash beckoned Azug over to him. "Then here," he said, pointing at a chest he had moved next to the fire sometime the night before.
Opening it, Azug hesitated. "You can't be serious," he muttered, peering at the chest's contents.
Inside rested a full set of orcish-styled armor. It had obviously been kept in good condition.
"I am. I insist that you take it. It saved my hide out there more times than I care to remember," Ghorbash said. "If you don't take it," he went on, seeing the denial on Azug's face, "then I'll start making noise and wake everybody up."
"What do I care? Let them know, I'm still leaving," Azug defiantly whispered.
"You think I haven't been right where you stand now? That I don't know what's going through that head of yours? Please, just take the blasted armor. It's too good to be left to rust here."
Azug's blue eyes met his uncle's. They locked gazes for what seemed like an hour, but Azug finally looked away. "Thank you," he muttered.
"Bah, thank me by taking care of it. So help me, if you put a hole in her, you can bet I'll know about it, and I will find you."
Azug smiled and, with some help from his uncle, managed to work his way into the armor. It fit surprisingly well, if a little tightly in the shoulders and calves. It had recently been oiled, and Azug was able to move almost silently in it. With one last expression of gratitude, Azug turned his back to the stronghold, and started walking.
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There will be more, though.