"There it is," the pink skinned ozcurilla said as she pointed across the pasture. "The apple tree. Come on, Grink!"
"I don't know, Sarfa," the ozcurillo replied. Although he was about a year and a half younger than his sister, he was slightly taller. "What if the farmer catches us?"
"Pffh," she huffed. "The hoo-man farmer's too fat and stupid to catch sneaky Ozcuras like us. Of course, you're only HALF Ozcura," she added nastily before wriggling through the fence.
Grink bit his lower lip. He could have pointed out that she was half-Ozcura too, and that his skin was actually greyer than hers, but knew that she wouldn't listen, so he just followed.
The two young grey orcs carefully snuck across the field, as if there were anything else than disinterested grazing nannies to observe them. They reached the base of the tree and Sarfa began to think of how to climb the tree when a loud snort was heard. She turn and loudly shushed her brother, but he shook his head and held his hands up to sho