The air was thick with muggy dampness, almost like fog.
Lying on a pile of straw topped with a soft bearskin pad, Vorgan kept twisting and turning, unable to sleep. Darkness filled the tent patched with linen cloth.
The events of the day kept replaying in his mind. As a Gnoll, Vorgan had never considered himself stupid. On the contrary, he was a clever Gnoll. His eyes glimmered in the dark. It was precisely because he was too clever that he did not fit in among this tribe of foolish Gnolls.
He sighed and shifted on the bearskin pad. This was so unfair.
Someone as clever as me wasn't even the chieftain of the Wolfhowl Tribe. Only I have the brains to lead the Wolfhowl Tribe to greatness and restore our ancestors' glory. His mouth opened slightly, exposing sharp teeth. No matter who they are, everyone is food for Gnolls.
Clutching his jaw, Vorgan's eyes filled with resentment. The mighty Gnolls are descendants of the Wolf God. Yet we couldn't beat those green-skinned monsters, and now we can't even defeat a pile of bones.
He reached over and gently stroked his left arm. A stabbing pain pierced him. It was a blade wound, its flesh torn open, but some time had passed, and it had mostly healed. We can't go on living like this. Every day is harder than the last. Always fleeing, always running. If that damned useless chieftain keeps leading us, sooner or later I'll be finished.
I should do something. This can't go on.
Vorgan sat up, restless inside. He rose and walked naked out of his tent, lifting the entrance flap. Compared with the darkness inside, the world outside was bathed in hazy moonlight. Though the moon was only a crescent, it had lost none of