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There was a knot in Grik's belly, with the situation at hand that was not to be unexpected with someone of his status. A few jitters should be expected, but it was not any jitter due working as a Rog for a caravan. It was a knot of hunger, he was able to grab a few bits of hard tack from his small travel sack. That did little for the orc as they traveled on into the darkening and further towards first light.
The travel got slightly better for the orc, other than the hunger he was beginning to understand the commands for the beast he rode. It was fairly simple and he was practicing turning the horse left and right as he was called forth by the Bolg. He shouted out instructions for both Grik and another orc to go check the road ahead.
A few seconds behind the other orc, Grik smacked his chest with a closed fist and uttered a grunt in reply then rode off. The caravan seemed to be set to camp, so they needed to secure the area. Other orcs watched the surrounding area as Grik and the other surveyed the area to the road. The two raced ahead, but Grik was slightly behind scanning around him. He wanted to be thorough so he paid attention to the detail of the woods, and once they neared the road to see if any traffic was approaching or leaving. With his battle axe upon his back he was prepared for an attack.
As he sat astride his mount he looked down to the road, and to the area right off the road. This was to be cautious of any other group passed through recently, or if any moved off the road to take cover in the bush by the road. It was a tactic that his mob had used in the past and for the unprepared it was great suprise.
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