[Arry]

Gromwakh stepped close to Snik and elbowed him hard in the ribs. The fool was staring open mouthed at One-Eye as he walked away from the crumpled body. Snik’s face had turned a decided shade of grey and he was gibbering in fear. ‘Shut yer gob!’ he hissed at his companion, his own eyes cast down at the ground in front of him in an attitude of submission. ‘You want to be next, do you?’

The little group of Orcs fell silent then, as Thrákmazh marched on, his servant trailing like a whipped dog. Out of earshot, the muttered imprecations began low, picking up in intensity. The hiss of anger flew round them, coiling like a snake in their hatred.

‘Quiet, you sheep-brained fools!’ growled Gromwakh, bringing his club down hard on the ground to gain their attention. ‘We’ll all be food for maggots if he hears us and comes back.’ He went quickly to where his ragged leather stuff sack was stowed and knelt down by it. ‘Come on! Make like yer doing something. Look busy like the . . . Captain . . . said.’ He spat out the Uruk’s title with loathing.

Orcs scurried like great dark ants to fumble with their own packs. Their belongings were few, and their weapons were always about them so it didn’t take long to make their preparations for leaving. Once done, they huddled about in little groups, silent and sullen beneath the darkness of the trees.