Warcraft: Durotan

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The crimson trail steamed in the snow, and Durotan, son of Garad, son of Durkosh shouted in triumph. This was his first hunt—the first time he had hurled a weapon at a living creature with the intent to kill it—and the blood proved his spear had found its mark. Expecting praise, he turned to his father, his narrow chest swelling with pride, and was confused by the expression on the Frostwolf chieftain’s face.

Garad shook his head. His long, glossy black hair fell loose and wild about his broad, powerful shoulders. He sat atop his great white wolf Ice, and his small, dark eyes were grim as he spoke.

“You missed its heart, Durotan. Frostwolves strike true the first time.”

Disappointment and shame brought hot blood to the young orc’s face. “I… I regret that I failed you, Father,” he stated, sitting up as straight as he could atop his own wolf, Sharptooth.

Using his knees and hands in Ice’s thick ruff to direct him, Garad brought the beast alongside Sharptooth and regarded his son. “You failed to kill with your first blow,” he said. “You did not fail me.”

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