The Rescue A Short Story

The orc stepped forward through the forest, careful not to snap a single twig, pushing her skills acquired from years of tracking to the limit. The slightest noise would alert the guards to her presence, jeopardizing the whole mission. The 27-year-old orc paused and took a deep breath. This was it; the nightmare was almost over. The 8-foot stockade wall that surrounded the encampment was within her view through the trees. She continued on her way, now navigating toward the entrance of the circular stockade fence. She stayed within the shadows of the forest as she made her way around.

She could not see her comrades in the darkness of the forest, even with night vision superior to humans, acquired by her kind from generations of nocturnality; the dark skin of her people melting into the darkness of the night. She could still sense they were nearby.

Coming around the curve of the stockade encampment, the guards came into her view. The three humans had pale skin that shined in the glow of the torch light. Two held spears while the third had a bow on his back. She could feel it in her tusks, this was where they were holding her son and the others captive.

The thought of simply sniping the guards with her bow passed through her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. Killing the guards would do nothing to help her…(Killing was not the way of her people). This was a rescue mission, not a revenge quest. She had her part to play. The orc huntress pulled the blowpipe from her side and pushed the sedative-dipped dart into it. This task complete, she closed in for the shot.

With the silence of an owl the dart flew through the night air and landed in the exposed neck of the guard leaning against the edge of the stockade. As he slid down, his two comrades looked to him, likely believing that he had simply fallen asleep on the job. Two more darts flew in quick succession and hitting the other two guards in the neck. As the men slumped to the ground, the orc huntress quickly moved into the light of the torch. Three of her comrades crept out of the woods from her left and right.

The orcs leaned the unconscious guards against the wall and then quickly moved through the encampment. The area inside the stockade was still, with the three guards at the entrance the only sign of life. Passing through the collection of wooden houses and huts, she noted that this settlement seemed to be more permanent than they had thought.

Reaching the back of the encampment, the orc rescuers spotted the prisoners. The prisoners’ feet were bound with their hands bound to a poll in the ground behind them. The orc huntress spotted her three-year-old son tied to the left-most post and wanted to burst into tears.

The saviors quickly cut the prisoners of their bindings and the group silently ran through the base into the woods and began the trek back to their village.