Garuk likes fighting. He liked fighting when he was a youngling, at least. Now he has a nest of younglings of his own, and he finds the axe and sword are less light in his hands than they were before. But, the thrill of the battle, that still sings in his blood. The thud of his axe in the enemy’s neck, that still spurs him forward. The thought of these creatures and what they would do to his younglings… that keeps him going when all else fails him.

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