And the alarm sounded in the encampment. Shouts,insults and confusion broke the quiet of the night,as the Orcs rushed to take their weapons and their equipment.
The Hunter stepped back and found shelter in a bush,then waited for his next prey,which did not delay. A brutish Orc,clad in rusty iron armor,stepped outside the camp of his kindred,yelling insults at the night and gripping his sword-hilt nervously. He walked away from the camp,searching for any clues regarding the death of one of his own tribe,but he did not realize that he was the next in the list. For the Hunter nocked another arrow on his bow and stepped outside the bush,now standing up with his bow fully drawn,aiming for the Orc's head.
And then the bow sang for the second time,again felling an Orc,the arrow sticking in the head of the creature,who fell to the ground,exhaling his last breath.
The Hunter approached the corpse of the Orc,making sure that the enemy was dead. He then stowed away his bow and turned his gaze towards the encampment. It was time to leave,before the Orcs could have a chance to discover him.
