Make a plan to escape.

A cuff from one of Brogar's warriors reminds you that you are overheard, and your father falls silent until you are secured to a thick post behind the pens that hold the rival tribe's riding beasts.

When he is certain you are alone, your father speaks again.

"This feast will take time to prepare, and require many hands. We must use it. They did not search us, as they should have, and there is a hunting knife in my boot. Our collars are leather - tough, but not as tough as Orcish iron. I will free us. Be still, be quiet, and be ready to run. We must be far away by nightfall. "

You nod silently, and try to sit still as your father draws a rough hunting-blade, and begins sawing your collar free.