I felt Tomm’s hot tears on my forehead and held him closer.
There were few animals among the dead trees. Few insect, few birds. It became hard to hunt.
The next day brought more slaughtered trees. Slain oaks, ash and pine. But no more Orc camps.
No animals too, until we came across a wounded boar. He staggered towards us in a grim clearing, bleeding from his strong left shoulder.
We ate him.
Then we respectfully placed his head atop an oak sapling which had been spared.
Tomm was recovering well, but I feared for the health of our brother aurochs.
The following dawn, I woke up cold and damp, curled up beside brother auroch, with Tomm in my arms.
I wish now that I had never let him go.
The rest of that day was filled with terror.
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