The scream tore through the night.
"Orcs! Orcs are attacking!"
Grey was already moving. Everyone burst from their tents at once, boots thudding, canvas snapping, a sudden storm of motion that didn't slide into chaos only because they'd prepared for this exact moment.
Weapons weren't left far away; every spear leaned within reach, every bow lay strung, and the tents were placed in an orderly grid so lanes stayed open for retreat.
Grey's axe waited where he'd set it earlier—on a barrel by his tent flap. He took it in a single, practiced motion and stepped into the ring of firelight.
Elaine was also out, bow in hand. Their eyes met for only a moment. She looked frightened but steady. That was enough. There was no time for words.
"Gather around! We form a circle!" Ray's voice cut through the chaos, commanding and sharp.
The order spread immediately. Training and instinct took over. Everyone obeyed without hesitation — not because every command would be perfect, but because disobedience in battle would cause chaos.
The camp had been built for this. Weapons were close at hand, tents arranged in lines that allowed for rapid movement. Even fear learned discipline.
Ray stood at the center, eyes scanning the treeline. He was twenty-nine, seasoned by three previous orc attacks. He knew what panic did to people and how to keep it away.
"How many?" he called out.
One of the older hunters answered, breathless. "No exact count. At least thirty."
Ray swore under his breath. Grey didn't need him to explain why. There were forty of them in total, and only thirty adults. Some of those barely knew how to fight. And most couldn't fight an orc one-to-one.
Thirty orcs would be enough to wipe them out.
"Where are they coming from?"
"The west," another voice shouted. "All movement is from that direction."
"Then we retreat east. Slowly. Children inside the circle. Lana, you stay with them. Grey—" His eyes found Grey. "—you stay outside with us."
Grey nodded. It was almost midnight; in less than an hour, he'd turn fifteen — officially an adult. More than that, he'd already proven himself by killing an orc alone. There was no question where he belonged now.
The circle shifted, shrinking as the children moved inward. Elaine was among them by design—she wasn't a grown-up yet, but as an archer she could still help from inside the circle, loosing over shoulders without compromising the line. Lana—another archer—moved inward as well at Ray's order.
The only woman who fought on the outer line carried a short sword — long blades were too heavy to use for long in a drawn-out battle.
Ray raised his voice again, projecting over the sound of clanking weapons and quickened breaths.
"We retreat together. No one breaks formation. If an orc closes in, the two nearest will step out, handle it, and return. The rest will close the gap and keep the circle whole."
He paused, scanning faces. "Use the trees for cover. Don't panic. Don't separate. Remember — no matter how slow they seem, if you're alone, you're already dead."
The words settled over them like a second layer of armor.
Grey looked at him then and realized, not for the first time, what made Ray a leader. It wasn't fearlessness. It was the ability to act despite the fear. His face was drawn tight — not calm, but controlled. Determination built from duty, not confidence.
They began their retreat eastward. Torches were kept low, not for stealth but so the light didn't blind them to the darker edges of motion beyond. Grey kept his eyes on the gaps between trunks, listening less to the shouts and more to the forest's answers.
On his left, Taek walked backward, spear half raised, doing his best to look relaxed and failing; the tip trembled a hair, not from weakness but from held discipline. On Grey's right, a farmer held his spear too high. Grey nudged the shaft down with two fingers. The man nodded once, grateful.
But strangely, no orcs came from the west, following behind them.
Grey noticed first, then Ray. The older man's brow furrowed as he glanced toward the darkness behind them.
The night watchmen had reported thirty orcs from that direction — but the woods were silent.
Something was wrong.
It didn't stay a mystery for long.
When they broke through the next stretch of trees, movement flared ahead — hulking shapes emerging from the dark. The air was filled with the stench of sweat and iron.
"East!" someone shouted. "They're in the east!"
"Damn it," Ray hissed. "We're surrounded."
The realization spread quickly. Confusion followed.
"How? Orcs don't plan like this. They don't flank!"
"They're not supposed to," another man muttered. "Not unless—"
"Unless there's a Chieftain," Taek said grimly. "We must've killed too many of their kind. They wouldn't move like this otherwise."
Though his assumption was wrong, it didn't change anything.
An orc chieftain. The words landed like a death sentence. Grey had heard of them — larger, smarter, capable of uniting scattered packs. Villages didn't fight them; armies did.
"What do we do?" someone asked. "If there's a chieftain, we'll never get out together."
Ray didn't answer immediately. His eyes moved across the faces in the torchlight — young, old, terrified, stubborn. Grey recognized that look. It was the face of a man already choosing who would live and who would die.
When he spoke again, his voice was steady, but quieter.
"Change of plan. Taek, Grey, Mark, Lana — protect the children. We'll open a path. You take them and run east. Don't look back."
Lana stepped forward immediately. "What? No. You can't—"
"Stop," Ray said sharply. "That's an order."
The silence after that was heavier than the forest.
Their connection wasn't something they announced, but the look that passed between them said enough: trust long-earned, affection, and the knowledge that one would go forward while the other did not.
The formation shifted again. Those assigned to the rear gathered around the children. Grey took his place beside Taek, axe ready. The orcs hadn't closed in yet, but their growls were moving closer from all sides.
The retreat began again, slower this time. The ground was uneven, littered with roots and the half-burned remains of old stumps.
Behind them, Ray and the others held the western line. Ahead, shadows shifted through the trees — the rest of the orcs blocking escape.
"They're trying to stall us," Taek said quietly beside him. "Hold us long enough for the others to close in."
Grey nodded grimly. "Then we have to move before they do."
Ray fell back for a moment, walking beside him. His spearhead was dark with blood from the earlier fight, his expression grim but oddly calm.
"Do you know why I'm sending you with them?" he asked.
Grey kept his eyes forward. "No." But he had a guess.
Ray exhaled slowly, voice low enough that only Grey heard. "Because I don't think we're getting out of here alive."
Grey said nothing. There was nothing to say.
"This iswhy," Ray continued. "You didn't argue. You didn't say something foolish like 'No, I'll stay with you,' or 'No, you can't!' You think before you speak. You're level-headed. You can lead." His gaze lingered, heavy. "Also, you are one of the stronger ones. You have potential. It will be hard, but you need to survive so that the village can continue to exist."
Grey didn't answer right away. He understood what those words meant — and what they cost.
Most of the adults here wouldn't survive. The children would. Maybe. But if the adults died, the village itself would wither.
Of course, there were many other grown-ups in the village. But most of those who could fight were here.
That was why he didn't object. Even though being a leader would mean that Grey would never leave the village to realize his dream.
If he were to become the leader, he could only stay here, leading the ceremony each year. He didn't want that, but he couldn't reject Ray's determination.
He couldn't save them. He had no great Art, no strength beyond discipline and control.
"I understand," Grey said finally.
Ray's expression softened, almost a smile. "Good. Then live, Grey. Be strong enough to make this mean something."
He turned and walked back toward the front line. The noise of movement grew thicker — guttural roars, the thudding of heavy steps, the sharp ring of steel.
Then came the clash. Metal met bone, shouts broke through the trees. The line had engaged.
Grey tightened his grip on the axe and turned to face the east.
"Move!" Mark shouted. "Now!"
The children ran. The forest swallowed them.
Behind them, the battle began.