Nug's breath came steadily as he pressed onward, the memories flooding back like a rushing river. The forest around him seemed to pulse with life, the whispering leaves echoing stories of days long past. He closed his eyes briefly, recalling the Boy's Army, the ragtag group of children, united by their courage and hope. They had faced and defeated terrible evil, a darkness that threatened Midgard itself, and Nug had been part of that victory.
His mind drifted to Avcoor, the leader of the boys' army, a person he considered the biggest influence on his life. He was the Dovakhin of Midgard. This meant he was part man, part ogre, and part dragon. Avcoor had been their leader, their protector, their teacher. He had taught Nug how to navigate these woods, how to pick up the scent of a trail, how to listen to faint sounds. As Nug trekked through the forest, it was Avcoor's lessons that guided him. He trusted his nose, read the broken bracken and scattered leaves for signs of the missing.
Nug remembered, vividly, how Avcoor could blend in with people. He had five fingers, one more than a typical Half-Orc, which allowed him subtle gestures, disguises, and a breath of humanity that made him harder to read. Nug clenched his fists, anger flickering in his chest. Because of his own odd hands, he felt like an outsider, unable to truly belong. "Because of this," he muttered under his breath, "I could never fit in."
But then, Gaia's voice, like a gentle wind passing through the canopy, soothed him. Her words echoed in his mind, soft yet firm. "You were never meant to fit in," she whispered. "You were meant to stand out. You were meant to forge your own path." A vision unfurled before him: a memory of Nug, as a child, pulling Avcoor from a rushing river. He had been wounded, fighting to save some of the Boy's Army. Nug, trembling but determined, had dragged him out of the water, risking his life.
In that moment, Avcoor had blessed him, whispering words of destiny. "You are my guy," the boy had said softly. "You will be the second Avcoor to the Orcs, the one who carries my legacy forward. Even if I do not survive the coming darkness, I trust you."
Hope, tinged with a deep sadness, welled in Nug's chest. The realization that Avcoor, who had always seemed invincible, had confided in Nug the possibility of not surviving the great evil. That even then, he'd seen Nug's potential and understood his own mortality. That path of hope pulled at him, fueling his resolve.
But anger flickered again. It was anger at himself, at the world for forcing him into this role. He had always felt like an outsider, always fighting just to find his place. Gaia's voice returned, tender yet resolute. "Avcoor will return," she whispered, "for the evil he fought, and for you. He has served me well." The words seeped into Nug's soul, filling him with a renewed sense of purpose.
Joy flared briefly, dissipating as his senses sharpened again. His focus snapped to the present, the faint scent of Daku's orcish blood mingling with the smells of scorched earth and burnt wood. A distant movement caught his eye as a shadow moved among the wreckage.
He froze. There, amidst the debris of the burned remains of fleeing humans, was Daku. He was struggling in the clutches of some remaining humans' desperate debris. Their figures crouched, weapons glinting in the weak forest light, hands reaching for the young half-orc. Daku's eyes widened with fear and fury, and Nug's heart clenched as he saw the boy's helplessness.
Without hesitation, Nug drew his bow. The hunt was not only to save Daku but to find purpose in every step he took. Gaia's voice echoed again, whispering reassurance and strength: "You are more than what you believe. Fight not just for Daku, but for your destiny."
Nug moved swiftly, knowing that every step was a test. A trial that would define him. With Avcoor's teachings guiding his hands, he prepared to strike, to save the boy and face whatever darkness awaited him.