I walk on a dirt road under trees.
Sunlight falls through the leaves.
The road is thin and hard, pressed flat by many feet that are not mine. I have been walking for a long time. My legs feel heavy. My arms feel loose. My stomach makes a low sound.
I am hungry.
I stop and look around. Trees stand close together. Bushes grow thick at their roots. Birds move in the branches. Small things run in the grass. I know I should eat, but I do not know how.
My brothers and sisters could hunt. I am slower than them. My eyes miss things. My hands miss strikes. If I chase an animal, it is already gone.
I look at plants. Some have red berries. Some have wide leaves. Some have sharp thorns. I do not know which ones hurt and which ones help. In the clan, I never chose food. Food was thrown to me. Tough meat. Bitter soup called golp. Sometimes, after a raid, there was much food and loud eating. I only took what was given.
Now there is no hand giving me food.
My stomach hurts more. My mouth is dry. I sit on a fallen log and hold my staff across my knees. I think of the kneeling man on the wall. He had nothing in his hands. Still, he looked full of something.
I do not feel full.
I feel small in the forest. The road does not tell me where to go. I am alone, and I am dumb, and I am hungry.
I stand up and hold my staff. It is only wood now. No sharp end. It feels light in my hands, but it is all I have.
I hear a sound in the bushes. A small sound. Scratch. Scratch. I crouch like I saw my brothers do. My knees bend too far and I fall onto one knee. The sound stops. I wait. My breath is loud in my ears.
The sound comes again.
I move slow. I try to put my feet down soft, but dry leaves crack under me. I freeze. My back hurts from bending. My arms shake.
I push the bushes apart with the staff.
A small animal jumps out. Brown fur. Long ears. It runs fast across the road.
I shout meaninglessly. My voice scares it more. It is gone.
I feel heat in my face. I do not know why. I try again.
I see a bird on the ground pecking at seeds. I lift the staff high. My arms feel slow. I step forward too hard and slip in dirt. The staff hits the ground with a loud knock. The bird flies up into the trees.
I look at the empty place where it was.
I try to copy hunting like the clan did. I walk low. I watch the ground. I sniff the air. All I smell is trees and old water. My nose is not good like theirs.
I see a hole near a rock. I think maybe something lives inside. I poke the hole with my staff. Something bites the wood. I jump back and fall on my back. My heart beats fast. Nothing comes out.
I sit up slowly.
My hands shake. My stomach hurts more now. I am tired from moving and have nothing to show for it.
I am not a hunter.
I look at my staff. I look at the trees. I look at the dirt road.
My brothers would already have meat. They would laugh and tear it apart. I only have dust on my knees and fear in my chest.
I sit down against a tree.
"Orc C is dumb," I say to the air.
So I stand up again, slow and clumsy, and walk deeper into the forest, hoping my feet will find food before my body gives up.
I walk back onto the dirt road.
Then I see a big shape move between the trees.
It is a brown bear.
It steps out onto the road. Its fur is thick and dark. Its back is high like a small hill. Its mouth opens and closes as it breathes. I stop at once. My hands grip the staff. My heart jumps hard in my chest.
I do not shout.
The bear turns its head and looks at me. Its eyes are black and wet. It stands still. I stand still.
Then another shape comes out from the trees.
A small bear. A cub.
It walks close behind the big one. It bumps into her leg and makes a soft sound. The big bear moves her head down and touches the cub with her nose.
They do not run. They do not charge.
They walk onto the road.
They walk the same way I am walking.
The big bear goes first. The cub follows. I stay where I am for a moment. My legs feel tight. My chest feels full of air.
Then I take a step.
I walk behind them, many steps back. I do not raise my staff. I do not make noise. My feet touch the dirt slow.
The bears walk in the middle of the road. Their bodies move heavily. The cub trips and the big bear stops until it stands again.
I watch them.
The big bear does not hunt me. She does not fear me. She only walks and keeps the small one close.
I think of my clan. They walked with weapons up. They did not guard small ones. They made small ones run or die.
The bears walk and do not look back.
I follow them.
I do not know why. My stomach still hurts. My arms are still weak. But my feet keep the same path as theirs.
I walk behind the mother bear and her cub on the dirt road, quiet as I can.
The dirt road ends at water.
A river cuts across it, wide and bright. The sun sits on the surface and breaks into many pieces. The water moves fast in the middle but slow near the edges. It is not deep. I can see stones under it.
The bears walk into the river. Water climbs up their legs. I follow after them. Cold bites my feet. but I feel good.
My throat burns. I kneel and drink. The water tastes clean. I drink until my head feels light.
When I lift my face, I see shapes moving in the river.
Fish.
They flash silver and dark under the water. I do not know what kind they are. I only know fish is food.
The big bear steps into the shallow part. She stands very still. The cub waits on the bank and makes small sounds.
Suddenly, the bear strikes.
Her paw hits the water. It is fast. She pulls up a fish that twists and shines. She bites it once and tears it. She drops pieces in front of the cub. The cub eats and makes wet noises.
I try to do the same.
I step into the water and raise my staff. I swing it down at a fish shape. The water splashes. The fish is gone.
I try again. I use my hands this time. I grab at the water. My fingers close on nothing.
I growl low in my throat. The river does not care.
I watch the bear.
She does not chase the fish. She waits. Her eyes look into the water. Her body does not move. Only when the fish comes close does she strike.
I try to be like her.
I stand still. My legs shake. My arms feel heavy. The cold water climbs higher on my skin. I see a fish pass near my feet.
I strike too early. It slips away.
I try again. I wait longer. My breath goes slow. The water moves around my legs. A fish comes close. I move my hands down fast.
I miss.
My chest feels tight. My stomach hurts more.
I try again.
This time, I do not shout. I do not rush. I watch the shadow under the water. I wait until it is close to my legs.
Then I grab.
My hands close on something wet and strong. It jumps and bends in my grip. I almost drop it. I squeeze harder. The fish hits my arm with its tail.
I lift it out of the water.
I stare at it. My hands shake. The fish opens and closes its mouth. Its body shines in the sun.
The bear looks at me. Then she turns back to her cub.
I hold the fish and feel happy.
I am dumb. My actions are never planned. But I watched, and I waited, and I learned with my hands.
And now I have food.
I kill the fish with a hard hit on a stone. It stops moving. Blood runs into the river and fades away.
I sit on the bank. I tear the fish open with my hands. The skin is rough. The inside is soft and warm. I pull meat from bone and put it in my mouth.
It tastes strong and wet. It is cold and sharp on my tongue. I chew slow. My teeth work hard.
I eat until only bones and skin are left.
My hands smell fishy. My mouth feels full. The pain in my belly grows quiet.
The bear and her cub move away down the road. I watch them until they are only brown shapes in the trees.
Then I remember the kneeling man.
I stand and walk a little away from the water. I put my staff on the ground. I bend my legs and lower myself like before.
My knees touch dirt. My hands come together in front of me.
I do not know words to say. I do not know who to speak to. I only know how to sit.
I think of the fish. I think of the bear. I think of the man I killed. I think of the quiet in the old church.
My head feels less loud.
I stay like that for a while. The river moves. The forest breathes. Birds make small sounds.
I am still hungry. I am still dumb. But I have learned one small thing.
When I stand again, the road is still there.
So I walk.
I walk again on the dirt road. My belly is not empty now, but my head is full.
I think about the fish.
I think about the man.
The fish was in the water. It did not run from me. It did not raise a blade. It only swam. I took it because my body needed food. When it died, the river stayed the same. The trees stayed the same. The bear fed her cub.
The man was on the ground. He tried to run. He tried to live. He had hands like mine. He had eyes that looked at me. I put my spear into him because I was told to. Not because I was hungry. Not because I needed him.
What is the difference?
The fish fed me.
The man fed nothing.
The fish did not scream.
The man made a sound that stays in my head.
The fish became part of my body.
The man became part of my memory.
I do not know the right words. I only feel that one death made my body live, and the other death made my chest hurt.
The clan said all killing is the same. Kill to be strong. Kill to be feared. Kill because you can.
But the kneeling man did not kill.
The bear did not kill me.
The fish did not try to hurt me.
I walk and think slow.
Maybe not all killing is the same.
I do not know what is right. I do not know what is wrong. I only know the fish made me less hungry, and the man made me less quiet inside.
I hold my wooden staff and keep walking down the dirt road, trying to understand a world where some lives are taken to live, and some lives are taken for nothing.
I walk and think more.
I try to weigh the lives I took, like stones in my hands.
Fish in one hand.
Man in the other.
I ask which is heavier.
My head hurts when I think this way.
Who am I to say which life is worth more?
I am Orc C.
I am dumb.
I forget things.
I make wrong steps.
The fish had a body and a path in the river.
The man had a body and a path on the road.
Both wanted to keep moving.
Both wanted to stay in the world.
I stopped them.
The clan said some lives are small and some lives are nothing.
They said orcs are big and others are for cutting.
But the bear did not think this way.
She thought of her cub.
The kneeling man did not think this way.
He only thought of something I cannot see.
I look at my hands while I walk.
These hands took food.
These hands took a life.
I do not feel like a judge.
Judges must be smart.
Judges must know rules.
I know no rules.
Only hunger.
Only fear.
Only the quiet that comes when I kneel.
So I stop trying to count worth.
I stop trying to make one life heavier than another.
But I know that some life are heavier than another.
When I killed the fish, the world kept moving.
When I killed the man, the same cannot be said.
Maybe that is the weight.
Not in the body.
But in me.
I walk on the dirt road with this thought.
I do not have answers.
On the dirt path I go.