The bilker thudded down on to four legs. It gave a watery growl and resumed lumbering. Trampling shrubbery, grating bark from trees it rubbed against, it began moving along the bottom of the valley.

Stryke and Haskeer emerged from the undergrowth, spears in hand, and followed stealthily. They were downwind, catching the noxious odour the beast exuded.

The orcs and their prey meandered for some distance. Occasionally, the bilker stopped and clumsily turned its head, as if suspecting their presence, but the orcs took care to stay out of sight. The creature gazed back along its wake, sniffed the air, then trudged on.

Passing a small copse, the bilker waded a pebbly stream. On its far side was a broad rocky outcrop, dotted with caves. To carry on the pursuit, Stryke and Haskeer had to break cover. Keeping low, they dashed for the shelter of a lichen-covered boulder. They were within five paces of it when the bilker swung its head round.

The orcs froze, mesmerised by the beast's merciless, fist-size eyes.

Hunters and hunted stood transfixed for an age. Then a change came over the creature.

" It's bilking! " Haskeer yelled.

The colour of the animal's skin started to alter. It took on the hue and mottled appearance of the sandy granite wall behind it. All except its swaying tail, which aped the green and brown of an adjacent tree. With increasing rapidity the bilker was blending into the background.

" Quick! " Stryke shouted. " Before we lose it! "

They ran forward. Stryke lobbed his spear. It struck square in the creature's flank, drawing a thunderous bellow from the wounded beast.

Camouflage was a bilker's principal defence, but far from all it relied on.