Skirmish (Fangdarr): Sleep

Skirmish (Fangdarr): Sleep

Follow along each week for Skirmishes of characters of the Orcblood Legacy Series. These are real events that take place during the story’s timeline but are not detailed in the book.

He was exhausted. It had been days since the night the trolls had attacked him in his camp. Sleep had not come easy since, with his sense always keen on edge, even while drifting to the brink of slumber. Fangdarr’s body was weary and slow. He walked through the forest, aimlessly, as if his feet were thick in muck. The orc had no direction in mind. No end mark of destination.

The lack of sleep weakened his resolve. It was becoming harder and harder to stifle his trapped emotions regarding Vrutnag’s passing. But still he forced them deeper, hidden beneath the growing frustration of his journey alone. He missed his brother and the old dwarf who had become his mentor. He missed the things he had taken for granted. Sleep. Shelter. Warmth. Yet, his stubborn pride demanded he press on and never look back.

Fangdarr walked through the Lithe in a daze as his body begged for sleep, but his mind spewed rejection at every turn. Finally, on the fifth day since the attack, the orc collapsed onto the rough ground.

Waking abruptly, he scanned his eyes groggily around his surroundings. Immediately he was in a defensive stance, expecting some enemy to be on his peripheral. But after many moments, none came. Fangdarr slowly began to collect his thoughts. Last he remembered, he was lumbering through the woods in the early afternoon, just after mid-day sun’s peak. Now, the sun had just started its ascent for the following day, peeking barely above what little of the horizon he could see through the lattice of trees. He cursed himself as he realized sleep had taken him nearly a full day. Never before had he slept so long.

With luck, he had not been harmed during his unconsciousness and Driktarr remained in place across his back. The orc held no faith in the gods but wondered if he had been watched over or simply spared misfortune by luck. In either case, Fangdarr breathed a sigh of total relief as his arms stretched high in the air, no longer encumbered by fatigue.

His renewed vigor had been more than one of body. Now, his mind was set to task. He would not be ambushed nor caught without shelter and sleep until the weight of exhaustion crushed him into the dirt again. Fangdarr needed to find a suitable home.

Traveling farther south toward the mountains, Fangdarr had settled on the decision to find a cave. If he could manage to find one well-hidden, or at least defensible enough to allow him to repel intruders, he would be safe enough. After all, the cave his family lived in for his entire life had never once been discovered. Though, perhaps being between the Zharnik clan and nearby human villages to the north had dissuaded any of either race from trespassing. Part of him urged to consider returning home where he knew it was safe, but he cast the thought aside. It was time for Fangdarr to forge his own path.