“Everything alright here?” Lagat’s voice purred from behind her. The sound distracted her, and Durash leaned back. She hadn’t even realized her knife was pressing so hard into her father’s throat until she saw the line of red that was sluggishly welling blood.

“It’s fine, we’re going Lagat,” Durash snapped, her challenging gaze never leaving her seething father. She didn’t trust him with her back, not for a moment. She took Lagat’s bag as well, and the both left under the hard gazes of the entire stronghold. The other orcs grumbled, swore, and cursed them as blasphemous when they left, but none were brave enough to try and stop them. That said enough to her about their assembled cowardice. They would make a better hold, a stronger hold.