The fire in the upper rooms of the keep have been extinguished just in time for the clerics to ignite funeral pyres downwind of the keep. The ashes of good men and dead orcs alike slowly waft upward, toward whatever the hereafter provides. The land will need a good, hard rain to wash the stench away. Even miles from the keep, the animals are driven away by the smell. Perhaps they have more sense than I, abandoning this place.
While the men tear down the charred roof and begin hewing new wood for repairs, I have set about using my own skills to track the orc army and ensure they are not preparing for another immediate strike. My stride is long and their trail clear through the forest. These orcs were driven hard and fast. I have followed their markings for ten miles with no signs of their pace slowing. There is some comfort in the thought that we have time to prepare and tend to other threats. Starvation, chief on my list.
I head back to the keep, by an indirect route. Identifying natural landmarks and learning the lay of the land. In the woods I have set snares to catch small game, should they return. In a clearing, a deer and I locked eyes. With a start he ran, I in pursuit. Gracefully he cleared fallen trees and low branches, weaving a convoluted path through land he knew well. At the next clearing, my arrow caught him between the shoulder blades. I hold his head, thanking him for his sacrifice, and end his struggle. Flora and Fauna be praised, the men will eat well tonight.