Crog Skull-splitter...new chief of the Broken-bone tribe. Yeah, I knew the clever bastard. I'd followed him into battle on the day he became the new boss. He'd grabbed me by the back of my armor and nearly yanked me off my feet when I'd tried to charge up the hill during the opening fight with that White Haired Man leading the rest of the Meat.
I'd snarled and lashed out at him, he'd blocked my swing with the shield he'd picked up and backhanded me to get my attention, pointing up the hill as we heard those he hadn't had time to stop get slaughtered.
Still angry, I'd snarled again, earning a second smash from the flat of his blade as he urged the rest of the tribe to flank the enemy. As the rest of the clans nearby started joining the battle, I followed his example and pointed the way around the hill ahead on either side.
Later, after the fight was done and those too wounded to survive were in the cooking pots, I sat with four other of the meanest, biggest warriors of the tribe watching while Crog ranted and raved, spittle flying from his fanged maw. Behind us, the survivors of the different clans and tribes who'd been smashed were now being absorbed into the Broken-bone tribe.
Those first few who had been reluctant were added to the cooking pots, ending the debate quickly and efficiently. Finally, Crog stopped raving and the silence grew as he glared around the small circle of the five of us, finally resting his beady, blood-shot gaze on me. Tensing, I shifted my grip on my sword and prepared to fight or flee until he spoke.
"Kughan! Take a dozen scouts, follow as close as you dare...do -not- let the White Hair meat or his warriors see you. Make no attacks or I will use your skin to line my new armor. Find out where he goes and if he has more warriors waiting. We paid in blood because we did not know enough. The next time we meet him, it will be his turn to pay in blood."
I jumped to my feet, smashing my clenched fist to my chest armor in salute and dashed to where the warriors lazed about to begin gathering the war party, silently exulting in being chosen for the work ahead. If things went well, not only would we have a chance to pick the White Hair's bones clean, but I'd be in a position to someday, accidently-on purpose, slide a blade between Crog's ribs and take over the tribe for myself.
