It had been almost another day's journey when the orcs finally arrived at their stone house in the mountains. The orcs had walked side by side, while Lokka stayed a small distance behind. Barely any words were spoken while they journeyed. Lokka said nothing, but thanked Lash when he gave her a piece of cooked meat for breakfast.

The most that was said between Canohando and Lash, though, concerned Lokka.

"The woman will not leave me."

"If you ask of me what to do about her, I already told you to deal with her as you may."

"I do not want her to leave."

Canohando only nodded, and Lash knew then what to do with her.

It was dusk when they entered the stone house. Canohando went in first, but stopped in the doorway. He tried desperately to leave the anger and grief of Yarga's death from his thoughts, but entering the house had spawned a new wave of pain. He stood for several minutes, peering around the dirt-floored house. Never again would Yarga set foot in there. Slung at his side, Canohando's hand rested on the drum Yarga so cherished. Never would he hear the pulsing beat his friend played.

That was enough. He dropped his gear and quickly left with only Yarga's drum.

Lash watched until Canohando was out of sight. He hung his head. He was afraid, unsure whether his friend would even return, but knew better to go after him. All he could do was wait.

But, not alone.

He saw Lokka waiting on the path. He gestured for her to come, and she did.

"Will he return?" Lokka asked as Lash closed the door.

"I do not know" he replied, searching for a distraction. He found one with the hearth. "I will start a fire and cook the remaining meat for dinner."

Lokka stopped him before he went to collect wood from the outside woodpile. "You build the fire; I will cook."

Lash nodded then stepped out.

Fifteen minutes later, a fire was roaring and Lokka was standing over a pan - a ladle spoon in her hand. Lash sat on a low, skin-covered stool near the hearth carving new arrows. All was quiet save for the fire crackling and the scrapping of the knife.

The pounding started. It was low and distant, but they could hear it, feel it. Canohando wasn't too far away. Lash breathed in relief.

As the sad beat pulsed on, the sorrow in Lokka's heart became heavy and she put down the pan. Lash did not expect it, but he was not surprised. A piercing scream full of agony and rage tore through the stone house. Lokka bent over, face in hands against the dirt floor. She sobbed deep from her chest. Lash watched her, knowing inside him that he felt the same as she did, though he did not show it openly.

Lokka stayed with her face to the floor. The meat that had been cooked was now cold. Lash had gotten up, but quickly returned with his most prized possession - his flute. He began to play a soft, melancholy tune that sunk into the bones. The tune faded after a while, and Lash opened his eyes to find Lokka on her knees before him. Her eyes were red and cheeks wet with tears that still streamed down.

"You and your companion, you mourn through music" Lokka said, sadness but also wonder on her face.

"We find peace in it as well."

Lokka rested a hand on Lash's knobby knee, but said no more. There was silence for a little while longer until Lash asked, "Woman, may I take you as a wife?"

"Yes" Lokka answered with hesitation.

Lash had expected a different answer, and was nearly speechless by the one he received. "You will be my wife in every way even though I am an orc?"

"It is tradition among my people for a widowed or unwed woman to be taken as a wife by their brother-in-law. Because my sister was killed, I was to be taken by her husband. He is a crude man, like most all men in my village. None of them would help when I was being dragged away. But, you saved me. You have been so kind to me, I do not care if you are of the orc race. I will be your wife in every way."

Lash lay a hand upon her head. This time it was a gentle stroke instead of piercing claws running through her hair.