The Orc Race

The Northern Frontier, the Far North.

An endless glacier stretched as far as the eye could see. Here, there was nothing but white.

At the far end of that boundless expanse stood a towering white dragon of a wall, its height impossible to judge. It divided the world of ice and snow in two.

To the north lay a land of even harsher cold. Beneath permafrost that had not thawed in millions of years, countless caves had been carved into the frozen ground.

Those caves were home to the Beastmen driven out by Jingjihua the First.

"Mom, I'm so cold."

A Beastman child of four or five huddled in a cave, telling his mother how cold he was.

Beside him, his broad-shouldered Bear-Orc mother picked him up and wrapped her massive paws tightly around him.

"You won't be cold while Mom's holding you. Your dad's gone to gather firestone. We'll have a fire soon."

Though she said he would not be cold, her own body trembled faintly.

There were many Beastman families like hers. In the Far North, where temperatures stayed around fifty degrees below zero year-round, a source of heat was essential to survival.

Often, what a Beastman family needed to seek was not food, but warmth.

The stone blocking the cave entrance sounded with knocks in their agreed-upon rhythm. The Bear-Orc mother knew her husband had returned.

"Is that you, dear?"

She did not rush to open the cave, but called out first.

A bear's roar came from outside.

Only then did she relax.

Holding her child, she carefully shifted the great stone blocking the entrance. A Bear-Orc father more than twice her size soon squeezed inside.

He sealed the entrance again, then set down the bearskin satchel he had carried on his back.

With a clatter, he