I am returned to The Angle, but it seems not for long.
On reaching one of our few strong points, I was met with a pyre of burning orcs. It reeked. By chance, another of my kin came on horseback from up river. We approached the camp within the ruins together and were challenged for our identities. The defenders here had already been attacked, and it seems may be again.
We set about to scout the orcs nearby, count their numbers. Upon our crossing of Loudwater, precarious footing caused the woman among us to fall in, stupidly I leapt after her. I think the resolve I have nurtured through solitude was broken, something I will have to keep in check. We were washed up a long way down river and the other two came in search. With all the sound and fuss, were beset by orcs in a short skirmish. The strangest thing though, was the day after when I returned to dispose of the foul orc bodies. An old man had beaten me to it. Humming and grumbling, he went about his task. I hid among the trees. These are not times for meeting strange old men abroad and in solitude. If I meet him proper one day, I will be sure to thank him for taking care of our land.
