Exhausted, Morgiir stumbled and fell to his knees in the snow. Steam from his heavy breathing rose in front of his eyes. His leggings were completely soaked through and his legs felt shaky and numb from the cold. He pushed himself up again and attempted to take another step, but fell back down immediately. Behind him the horns still sounded, but they were far away now.
The heavy snow had turned into a full on blizzard, the wind howled around him and all he could see was white. He was going to die here, this was certain, but his home was safe and that was all that mattered. His parents had taught him that death was part of life and not to be feared. A deep calm descended on him. Maybe the orcs would die from exposure too?
Behind him he heard a soft crunching sound which grew louder with ever step. He whirled to see the same orc that he had poisoned earlier, trudging towards him. "Your're in trouble youngling! Did you really think you'd be able to hide from me? I don't know what you did to me, but you are going to pay for it!" The orc's voice sounded muffled through the fierce wind. No, not like this! Morgiir's mind began to race. Why couldn't I have just fallen asleep in the snow? No! He thought rising to his feet. Those are a coward's thoughts. I will fight this orc and die as a warrior, like my father.
On his feet now he drew his sword, and held it in front of him like his father had taught him. The orc stood only a few paces away now, holding his massive axe with both hands. Morgiir tried to summon the darkness again, but it eluded him in his exhaustion. A few moments passed as either opponent measured the other. Finally the big orc broke the silence. "I am Garlug, chief scout of Bloodthorn Clan, what are you called?" Morgiir steeled himself and shouted into the wind to be heard. "I am Morgiir, son of Morgad from Ne'ernan!" He tried to keep his hands from shaking and fear blurred his vision, as the towering orc nodded, seemingly content with this information.
With a loud yell, Garlug swung his axe in a crosswise sweep. Morgiir parried the blow, but was knocked on his back by the force of it. His frozen hands felt broken. He jumped to his feet again to block another heavy swing, this time only knocking him backwards a few steps. Stand your ground and make an opening. He thought. That is how you win. That is how you survive! The axe swung again, grazing the male on his shoulder as he jumped out of the way.
Crouching down Morgiir grabbed a handful of snow and crunched it into a ball with his left hand. Garlug raised his axe to swing again as Morgiir threw the snowball, hitting the orc square in the face. Blinded by the snow, Garlug swung widly. But Morgiir easily dodged and darted in at the first opening, burying the length of his sword into the orcs side. The orc bellowed loudly, and swung the butt end of the axe down, striking Morgiir in the head. Morgiir let go of his sword and fell into the welcoming arms of darkness.