"Grath," Ludwig locked eyes with the massive orc.
The burning settlement sat behind them like a wound that refused to close. Smoke rose in a steady column that leaned with the wind, and even from this distance, Ludwig could taste the ash in the back of his throat, a dry bitterness that clung to the tongue.
The grass around the blackened ruins had been trampled into muddy paths by fleeing feet and pursuing feet, and the air carried that faint, sick mix of scorched wood, cooked fat, and damp earth trying and failing to smother the smell.
Ludwig's new orc body registered it all differently than his usual one, the scent sharper, the heat of the fire more present, but he kept his face flat. The Tower wanted a reaction. Ludwig preferred information.
"Yes, chieftain," The burly creature replied, all too eager to be given a task.
Grath's eyes were bright, the kind of brightness that came from a warrior being offered direction after wandering without one.
