The day came to an end as quickly as it had begun. Knez was back in his cage; the shaman had insisted he had healed enough to recover on his own.

  Moonlight reflected off his eyes as the deep shadows of the camp mesmerized his mind. Borte and Hermeti watched him, noting that the air around him seemed more commanding—more "chiefly"—than ever before. Knez paid them no mind, running mental simulations of his escape plan for the tenth time that evening, perfecting every detail.

  His focus flickered as an orc warrior, carrying a human child, approached the opposite cage. The warrior shifted the girl’s weight to one hand to unlock the door before roughly shoving her toward the waiting hands of two anxious humans, they stretched out catching their daughter with all the strength left in their battered frame. A spark ignited in Knez’s gaze as he watched, but the child let out a heavy, rattling cough. The sound extinguished his curiosity, prompting him to return to his own cold thoughts.

  "I just knew," he finally responded to a question Borte had asked much earlier. But the dame wasn’t satisfied. Every orc in camp had heard how he predicted Grak’s injury and the falling tree while he was being whipped. Some called him a shaman; others claimed he cast an evil spell on Grak, calling him a Hoti. In orc culture, the Hoti was a folk legend—a forest being that brought misfortune upon trespassers and was notorious for stealing the faces of its victims.

  "If you say so," Borte responded with wary eyes, realizing she would get nothing more from him. Hermeti coughed weakly. "Let him be, Borte. He must be tired."

  Knez turned to Hermeti. The old orc’s health had worsened; his skin was now more pale than green. Yet, he had refused the shaman’s help earlier, turning away the warrior sent to escort him for treatment.

  Knez peeled his eyes away, retreating into his own mind. They aren’t my responsibility, he thought.

  He forced his eyes shut, ignoring the intrusive thoughts vying for his attention. He needed sleep; tomorrow was important.

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  Knez rose with the first light to find the camp unusually busy. Tents were being struck clean, the defensive stakes driven into the ground around the camp were being uprooted, and a few blue bucks were being prepared by the shaman for sacrifice. This development brought a smile to his face; he had been waiting for this since his capture.

  However, his observations were interrupted by warriors who opened his cage. "You are coming with us," they commanded. His injuries still ached, but the warriors didn't care—to orcs, if you could walk, you were okay.

  They led him to the edge of the camp where piles of logs lay. They chained his shackles to a heavy boulder, giving him just enough room to move. "Split these logs" one said, the other slowly raised two fingers to his eyes while maintaining eye contact with Knez, "I will be watching you, if you pull any of your tricks, you will regret it" he ballowed before leading the rest away.

  Knez sighed, hoisting a heavy log to set it upright. He brought the axe down with a rhythmic, explosive force, splitting the wood cleanly. He repeated the motion until the world shrank down to the sting in his palms and the scent of fresh sap. There was a primal, meditative quality to it—slicing thick timber exactly down the center. The ache in his muscles cleared his mind, and he began to actually enjoy the work, momentarily free from his thoughts.

  His trance was broken by several younglings who wandered into his workspace. They ran circles around him, ignoring his warnings.

  "Hey, find somewhere else to play," Knez warned.

  His effort only made the game more exciting for them. Knez dropped his axe and caught the ringleader by the arm, his gaze cold and intimidating. "Did you not hear me? Go elsewhere."

  The snot-nosed runt looked him dead in the eye. "Who asked you anything, you crazy shaman?"

  Knez flinched. He didn't know what came over him, but he leaned in close, his expression so dark and predatory that the boy’s bravado instantly vanished. He released the boy's arm with a sharp flick, sending him tumbling to the ground.

  The youngling slowly picked himself up, legs shaking. His friends hovered nearby, shocked by the intense aura of the "crazy shaman."

  "We... we will ask Father to leave you behind when we move tomorrow!" the frightened runt shouted, before retreating at full speed. Nearby orcs glanced over but, seeing no cause for concern, returned to their work.

  Knez watched them vanish, the smile returning to his face. His muscles felt loose and ready.

  "That is confirmation," he whispered to himself. "They are moving camp tomorrow. Tonight is the night."