"Sir, what should we do? Should we turn around to face the orcs?" The soldier with the wild brown beard asked. His body was covered in the blood of his enemies as he ran alongside his commander.
Frigs looked at him and shook his head, "No we shall not, I am not an orc and I am not stupid. Keep running, once you can spit on the back of the wounded comrades of yours, we'll turn around and hold the orcs,"
The soldier nodded, Frigs smiled back, and they continued running and running and running. A hundred metres were met in an instant. He felt only seconds have passed as they ran toward the direction of safety.
"They will give up soon, I'm sure of that. They won't chase us without food on their stomach and I know that they have marched all the way to the town," Frigs said as he kept running.
