The air in the smelled of rusted iron and wet fur. If I didn't move now, I’d be just another skeleton decorating the Orcish larder. This is it—the final leg of the escape. The Break for the Surface
They burst through the final curtain of thick foliage. The ground disappeared beneath them. The ravine opened up like a jagged wound in the earth, a sheer drop into the misty grey water below. Escape from Orc- Fleeing -Final-
They had escaped.
Now, in Final, there is nothing left to flee with. Only the fleeing itself. The air in the smelled of rusted iron and wet fur
Behind him: the guttural roar of Grushnok the Skinner and his twelve remaining orc trackers. They’ve been hunting Kaelen for three days—ever since his company was butchered at Thornwood Ford. They don’t want him dead quickly. They want him tired. Broken. Screaming. The Break for the Surface They burst through