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Orc's Best Friend The Orcs hate the stars, but their mounts do not. The Wargs watch for the Hunter and the Great Wolf passing overhead; they sing to them and to the waning Moon in voices as cold as their pale eyes. The Orcs shiver and slacken in their drinking. Vark walks over to kick his steed in her slatted ribs; Warg and rider snarl at each other. "Shut up that yowling! D'you want those juicy little pullets to know we're coming?" She falls silent, but her eyes shine brighter corpse-green as she promises herself One day my cubs will feed on Orc-flesh. [One for Khazar, who wanted to see "the bad guys in action."]
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