Kashtia did not need to know that word, "kill", for the panic and urgency in Grash's voice made clear the desperate situation. And the scruffling sound of the orc's footsteps had rung around the stone stairwell even before Grash had called out his command. Still, she was not prepared, for all the knives she had collected were in the bag and she was still getting used to the strange orcish clothes. The leather jerkin hindered her movements and the delay cost them all.
Scrambling almost with his arms on the ground like a beast, the orc rushed towards the gate. Only Kashtia was between him and gate, but others were alerted behind the creature. She grabbed a knife from the bag, any knife she could get her hands on, hefted it once to get the feel of it, and then threw it. But her aim was off, the jerkin held her back, and she felt her muscles in her forearm cramp where the bone had poorly mended. The knife hit the orc's shoulder, making a slight cut, but glanced off. She had time to grab one more knife, this one longer. She stood up to face the orc as he neared her. He was dripping blood and gore onto the stone floor. Perhaps she could slow him down.
He came within two feet of her and was not expecting her to charge into his path. Her movement put him off his run but still his huge weight carried him forward. Her nostrils filled with the stench of him, she thrust the knife deeply into the orc's lower chest, where she thought his belly would be. In her luck, she chose well, for she missed the bone and the blade sliced into the beast's innards. He roared, raising his arm from his bloody side and knocked her over, more in the wild motion of pain than in any deliberate attack. She fell to the stones and rolled, over and over to get away from him quickly, in hopes she could prepare another attack, but her movements were hampered by the bodies of other orcs.
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