The mine came into view just as dawn broke. Thulga pulled her horse to a stop at the ridge, raising one hand to signal her sisters. Below them, the settlement sprawled across the valley—crude wooden structures clustered around the main shaft, smoke rising from forge fires.
"There," Roktha said. "Kragg's territory."
Mazga shifted in her saddle, her missing arm making balance difficult. The wound had been cauterized and wrapped, but pain still radiated through her shoulder. "Let's get this over with."
They'd never seen Kragg before. Why would they? The western orcs were a joke—weak, disorganized, barely worth acknowledging. Kraghul's strength alone exceeded all of them combined. The sisters had never bothered to learn their faces.
As they descended, Thulga felt something wrong settle in her gut. The settlement was too quiet. No pickaxes striking stone. No shouted orders. Just silence.
"Something's off," she muttered.
