Chew Toy

“I grow bored, Grek. Bring me the human girl again,” the huge orc grumbled, tossing aside his empty mug.

“Ah… you had me throw her to the wargs last night, Warchief,” the goblin said, wincing a little in expectation of the beating to come.

“Did I? I don’t recall.”

“Yes, oh Violent One,” the goblin answered, “…it was rather late, and you had consumed nearly all of that captured dwarven ale.”

“Yes, I remember now,” the Warchief chuckled, “So the wolves have had their breakfast then?”

Grek winced again. “Not exactly,” he said.

“Huh?”

“They didn’t eat her after all.”

“She yet lives?” the orc demanded, incredulously.

“Yes, oh Furious One,” Grek said, bowing as low as he could manage.

“Then bring her to me at once!”

Grek was trying to find a way to bow even lower than ground level now. “There’s a problem with that,” he mumbled into the blood-stained dirt at the foot of the Warchief’s travel-sized throne.

“What?”

“The wargs, Master,” Grek sighed, “I think they wanna keep her.”