Into the Stinking Forest
The march led them into a forest thick with twisted trees and moss-covered boulders.
The deeper they went, the heavier the air became.
A foul stench clung to everything, a mix of rotting meat and decaying vegetation.
Even the hardened Orcs wrinkled their noses and coughed, waving the air in front of their faces.
"This place reeks," one Orc muttered, his voice muffled by the stench.
"Is this where the Ogres live?" Volk asked, his sharp eyes scanning the area.
"Aye," another Orc replied, his voice grim. "This is one of their hideouts. They live deep in places like these. Places no one else wants."
Volk nodded, his gaze lingering on the trees.
Their bark was dark and sticky, oozing a black resin that added to the forest's suffocating atmosphere.
The ground squelched underfoot, every step a reminder that they were trespassing in a hostile territory.
