They had already been walking for quite a while.
The narrow mountain path continued further north, steady and unwavering, while beneath them the vast plains lay like an endless sea of green and gold. Gustov and Samuel walked side by side. The crunch of their steps on the rocky ground mixed with the distant clatter of wagon wheels behind them.
"Isn't this world beautiful?" Gustov suddenly began, his gaze drifting across the landscape.
Ahead of them stretched a vast meadow that seemed to extend almost into eternity. Scattered groves interrupted the open land like small dark islands in a sea of grass. In the morning sunlight, countless flowers shimmered in all kinds of colors. Even from this distance, it looked as if they were glowing.
Samuel lifted his gaze over the vastness.
The wind moved through the tall grass far below them, making the landscape seem as if it were slowly breathing. For a moment, he almost forgot everything else. The fear. The confusion. The strangeness of this world.
And yet his previous experiences kept him from fully embracing this beauty.
"It is beautiful," he finally said.
His voice sounded honest, and yet there was something half-hearted in it that he could barely hide himself. His eyes remained fixed on the distance.
Gustov exhaled in satisfaction, almost proudly, as if Samuel had just realized something that had long since become self-evident to him.
Then their gazes returned to the path ahead.
For a while, neither of them spoke. Only the soft whistling of the wind and the distant calls of the others accompanied them.
Finally, Gustov broke the silence again.
"Tell me… what is your calling?"
Samuel blinked slightly.
"I don't know. I had a few hobbies here and there, but never really anything like a calling."
Gustov turned his head toward him.
"Really now? You still don't know what you want to spend your life doing?"
His tone was full of genuine surprise, as if Samuel had just said something completely incomprehensible.
Samuel frowned slightly.
"Should I already know that?"
Gustov laughed briefly and straightened up a bit more proudly.
"I already knew I wanted to be a farmer when I was just three years old."
They continued along the path.
From behind them, wild children's shouting suddenly echoed out of one of the wagons, followed by a loud thud and the annoyed shout of an older voice. Shortly after, laughter broke out again.
Gustov smirked.
"Many already know at four years old what they want to do in life. And by six, most of them already start working."
Samuel's gaze briefly drifted toward the wagon.
So young? That can't be healthy… Then again, it makes sense that everyone here has to help early.
The thought felt foreign. Almost unpleasant.
"Tell me… doesn't such hard physical work affect health quickly?" Samuel asked with a hint of compassion. "Definitely, haha!"
Gustov took it with a lightness that irritated Samuel.
"But we endure things like that. We are Orcs, after all." He patted his chest with a grin. "Our bodies are made for long and hard labor. Strength is to us like horns are to a ram."
His gaze briefly shifted to the other Orcs in the group.
Some of them tended to the horses pulling the wagons, but most of the men and women carried supplies or walked silently side by side. Despite the fatigue in their movements, there was something robust about them. Something resilient. Even the elders still seemed stronger than many humans Samuel had known.
"And we are proud of our species," Gustov finally said calmly.
Not arrogantly.
Not hostile.
Simply with a deep sense of natural certainty, as if this pride were something every Orc carried within them from birth.
Samuel looked at Gustov with a smile.
"Seems like Orcs are pretty impressive."
They both laughed now.
Gustov wiped a tear of laughter from the corner of his eye and shook his head amused.
"You can bet on it!"
He briefly spread his arms, as if he wanted to encompass the entire caravan, the mountains, and the endless plains with the gesture.
"We work harder than most other races. We carry more, walk farther, and sleep less." His grin widened. "And still, the next morning, we get up again full of energy."
Samuel laughed again.
The pride of these people did not feel arrogant. More honest. Almost contagious.
As they continued walking, Samuel's gaze again fell on the other Orcs in the group. On the strong shoulders. The heavy steps. The scars on arms and hands. Even the younger ones already seemed more resilient than many adults from his old world.
And the longer he observed them, the more he noticed something else.
The way they spoke to each other.
How they helped children when they climbed out of the wagons.
How an older Orc wordlessly took part of an exhausted woman's luggage.
The path continued upward along the mountain, and with each step the landscape opened a little more. The wind now came stronger from the plains below, brushing through the tall grass and making the vast field feel like a living, breathing blanket.
Some Orcs walked silently side by side, their steps heavy and steady on the rocky path. Others helped with the wagons, checked the draft animals, or exchanged short, clipped words over their shoulders that were carried away by the wind before they could be fully understood. Children's voices suddenly rang out, then were swallowed by the creaking of wooden wheels and the calls of the adults, disappearing again into the rhythm of the march.
Even in exhaustion, there was a clear order in the group's movement. No haste, no chaos. Only the steady advance through a landscape that seemed endlessly expansive. Above it all lay the bright light of the sky, casting the rocks, grass, and figures of the Orcs into sharp, clear contours.
Gustov noticed his gaze and smiled slightly.
"Many outsiders only think of muscles when they think of Orcs."
His voice grew calmer, less playful than before.
The wind swept through his deep black hair while the wagons creaked along the mountain path ahead.
"But being an Orc doesn't just mean strength on the outside, but also the fire and spirit you carry in your heart."
Samuel looked at him.
For the first time, he felt that Gustov wasn't just speaking about his species.
But about something he truly believed in.
For a brief moment, even the vast sky above them seemed quieter. Samuel remained silent a little longer than before. Not because he rejected anything—but because he was looking more closely.
His gaze drifted again over the caravan.
The Orcs had treated him kindly from the very beginning. That was nothing new, nothing he was only now discovering. Since he had been here, he had already felt this direct, uncomplicated behavior: a nod instead of suspicion, a hand that naturally reached out when something was heavy, a brief glance that did not judge but simply accepted.
What had changed was not their behavior.
But his understanding of it.
"I think," Samuel finally said slowly, "at first I thought that this kindness… was some kind of exception. Or maybe… you wanted something from me."
He twisted his mouth slightly, as if that assumption now bothered him a little in hindsight.
Gustov gave a low grunt but said nothing, letting him continue.
Samuel exhaled and looked forward again, where the path wound between rocks and grass.
"But you're just like this."
No surprise in his voice anymore. More like a realization that had only just settled.
After a few steps, Gustov walked silently beside him, then gave a crooked grin.
"Just like this sounds as if it's nothing special."
Samuel shook his head slightly.
"No. More like… it's stable."
That sentence hung between them for a moment, and this time it was Gustov who studied him, as if reevaluating him.
Below in the caravan, laughter could be heard. Someone shouted something unintelligible, and several voices responded at once. Not disorder in a negative sense—more like familiar noise that belonged together.
Samuel noticed that he was no longer automatically seeking distance. He simply walked along.
His steps unconsciously matched the rhythm of the path, the steady forward movement of the group. Even the sounds—the rolling wagons, the deep breathing of the animals, the crunch of stone under heavy boots—no longer felt foreign, but like parts of a greater whole.
Gustov nodded slightly forward with his chin.
"Then you've already understood it, actually."
Samuel glanced at him.
"Understood what exactly?"
Gustov only smiled.
"That you don't need to be cautious to walk here."
The wind swept stronger over the edge of the mountain, but this time it carried no sharpness anymore. Only openness.
Samuel let his gaze wander once more over the plains below them. Everything moved calmly, alive, without threat.
And for the first time, there was no inner resistance against that image.
Only a quiet sense of moving along with it.