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Old 03-27-2007, 01:07 AM   #362
Child of the 7th Age
Spirit of the Lonely Star
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With the moon high overhead, Makdush had meant to take off from the camp and head back across the plains to the rock strewn cove where they had bedded down for the past few days. The Uruk had expected Ishkur and Gwerr to do the same. To his surprise, that had not happened. The two orcs had stubbornly decided to hang out inside the camp. They showed no signs of leaving, though it was now only a few hours more until the sun would rise.

Somehow Makdush could not bring himself to head out on his own. He kept his distance from Ishkur and Gwerr and sat by himself at the central campfire, occasionally peering over in their direction. This was more from curiosity than any feelings of anger or hostility. He had also kept away from the other Uruk-hai. He had even thought of hunting out a few of the women to find out what was going on with them. But the females and younger orcs were nowhere to be seen. He hoped they had not totally disappeared. Sometime after midnight, a few more horses had come straggling back into camp and Makdush had managed to snag one of these for his own. The horse was a rather ungainly creature, stocky and battlescarred, lacking the grace and power of Ishkur's mount. But at least the creature provided him with a way of getting around. The horse was brown in color with a thick black mane and tale daubed with mud and dirt. The Uruk had started calling him 'Grunge'.

Makdush still could not shake the feeling that someone would be coming back to the slavers' camp sometime later that day. He decided to go out and have a look. Mounting up on Grunge, he kicked the horse in the flanks and sent him galloping out of camp. He rode off in a westerly direction while keeping a sharp eye on the distant horizon.



Lindir rubbed his eyes, stretched, and sat up in his bedroll. They had talked about leaving later in the morning, but several of the riders had expressed a desire to get on the road early, while there was still some cover of darkness. He gulped down a hurried breakfast of spring water and a small square of bread, girded his sword to his side, and quickly made his way to the eastern edge of camp where the riders had gathered and were now mounting up.

Lindir glanced apprehensively around the group. Several of the scouts still looked tired, wearing bandages, favoring an ankle, or rubbing at a nagging injury. Even the horses did not seem to be up to their best. The Elf gazed over at Azhar and Carl who had stopped to talk with each other. Both of them had strained expressions on their face, as if they were in pain or worrying about something. The girl was riding behind Kwell. He hoped the boy had learned his lesson, and there would be no more instances of someone running off without letting anyone know. Now, however, was not a time for lectures. Once Lindir had made sure they were all there, he beckoned with his hand that they should follow his lead. The group trotted out onto the plain, heading slowly but steadily towards the slavers' camp.

Last edited by Child of the 7th Age; 04-07-2007 at 08:29 AM.
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