Deep inside the acursed northern forest,
Tyron found three orcs, and beside them was the boy he'd heard yelling a moment ago, his leg was injured, probably broken, he had no chance to escape.
The oldest of the orcs was holding a bloodied club, he must have hit the boy with it just a moment before but didn't seem like he was finished. He was tall as two men and had a bear's stature, and so were the others beside him. White pointy canines stuck out from their mouths. That was enough reasons already why fighting them didn't seem to be a very good idea.
But he couldn't let the boy get killed either. He had to act fast, he'd think of a plan later. In a breath, he jumped in sight, yelled to draw their attention to him, picked up a log from the ground, and threw it straight at the first orc's head. It hit with a loud bang, causing the orc to roar in pain.
"This should be enough to distract them from that boy," he thought.
The orcs shifted towards him, visibly discontent. One held out his massive club and the others picked up short axes.
"Or that might have been a tiny bit too much after-"
Before he could finish his thought, the older orc dashed straight at him with his club above his head. In a blink, Tyron and he were face to face.
He only dodged the club descending upon him by an inch, making sure his head stayed attached to his shoulders, but felt a jabbing pain in his ear.
He jumped out of reach before the orc could land another blow, and started running towards the forest to lead them away from the injured.
But the other orcs looked hesitant and turned back to their first prey. Tyron picked a rock and threw it at one of them.
Great. Now he had three bloodthirsty orcs chasing him in the middle of nowhere. He'd better hatch a plan now, and quickly.
At first, he tried to lose them in the forest but quickly realized that it just wasn't an option right now.
The forest was covered in snow, which cracked and crisped beneath his feet. There wasn't any other color to be seen, other than the white of the winter, the dark brown of the three barks, and the red blood dripping from his rucksack. This wasn't ideal for an escape, but he'd find a way out somehow, he had to.
If outrunning them wasn't possible, he'd fight. He took an arrow from his quiver and held his bow forward.
Thud, they were coming closer. Thud, orcs... Of all the creatures in this bloody forest, he had to find himself a group of orcs. Thud, thud, but those weren't running that fast, or they were just taking their sweet time chasing him, either way, this couldn't go on for much longer, they seemed to never tire, and he was out of strength. He couldn't lead them to his home either, even if it would be safer for him, and facing them head-on would guarantee him being on their menu for dinner.
At last, he found a plan. It wasn't very likely to succeed, but it would have to work.
He used what was left of his forces and ran as fast as he could, he only needed to be out of their sight for a few instants. Thud, thud, they had accelerated their pace too.
Still, he continued to try and widen the gap between them. Not long after, he found what he was looking for. A few meters ahead of him lay a ravine, it didn't look like much from here, but he knew that it would guarantee the orcs' death would they fall in it.
He kept running straight till he was but a jump away from the deadly gorge. There, he turned to his right and in a blink, sprang and hid behind the nearest tree.
Orcs were known for their bad sight, especially at a distance. Tyron counted on that, he hoped that they hadn't seen him turn and hide behind the tree and that they wouldn't see the crevasse. Thud, thud, thud. He held out his bow, ready to shoot if one of them stopped before falling.
As expected, they came sprinting, without a clue about the trap in front of them. The first one only saw it after noticing the lack of ground beneath his feet, he turned backward and tried to grab onto something to stop his fall, but only found snow. He let out a big yell before falling into the chasm.
The second orc stopped himself just in time, after seeing his friend disappear. He looked right and left, searching for this troublesome prey. He found it beside a tree, pointing an arrow at him in his bow, he saw a green light coming from the boy's hands. The arrow flew, and he saw it getting bigger and bigger. Then it seemed like it diverged in two for an instant, and then everything went blank.
"What was that?" Tyron looked at his hands with a confused frown on his face.
It wasn't there anymore, but he was sure to have seen a faint greenish light emerging from his hands when he banded his bow. His hands were shaking at first but became steadier when the light appeared.
Wait, something was off, weren't there three orcs at first?
Tyron looked right and left in panic, searching for the third one. He was nowhere to be seen. He must have stayed behind with the boy!
Tyron sprang up the hill, coming out of his hideout.
He thought he heard a voice from the other side of the ravine warning him about something. But before he could make out what it said, a giant hand grabbed him from behind!
It lifted him from the ground, and Tyron lost hold of his bow at the same time.
It was the third orc, he had crawled behind Tyron while he was busy with the other two, and attacked him from behind.
Tyron tried to fend him off as well as he could, but the giant was unshakeable, and firmly held him by the collar, choking him out of breath.
In a final effort, Tyron gathered in his legs all the strength he had left, and struck him just bellow the ribs. If the creature had any sort of liver, it wouldn't resist this blow.
As expected, the giant crumbled in pain, and lost its footing. He began to roll down the hill, heading straight towards the chasm, and taking Tyron down with him.
That wasn't part if the plan. Tyron tried to grab to any rock of branch he could find, anything that would help him slow his fall, anything but this cursed snow.
There was a shock, then everything went black.