Ear-Biter coming back home for the first time in a while when his warband swings back around to his mother’s home. I don’t know if he has to go through a full cleansing ritual before he enters, him and the other boys (are they unblooded because they haven’t killed in battle yet, or just haven’t been graduated to full members?). But he definitely gets washed up with the other lads, and the grown he-orcs, and comes marching in the gate with his brothers, his fathers, his uncles, feeling nervous and proud to be partaking in the welcoming.
During the feasting, his sisters promptly kidnap him (it often happens when boys come back to their mothers’ home fortress, if there was much of a relationship with them). They drag him off to comb out his hair and poke at his new muscles and advise him on things he needs to know.
“If you tie the band like this, they’ll stick out- buuuut rearrange ‘em like *this*, and.... nice and flat. Either way, they’re under control and not hurting when they bounce.”
“Make sure you change it out every day, and wash it same as your smalls. Have you bled yet? More important, have you heated up yet? Even with the tea, you might.” “Gods, what a mess- you need a better comb, what are they using out there, fish-hooks? Just remember, a hand on you is a hand forfeit- you don’t have to give it back, no matter whose it is.” “Looks like he’s already learned that one- lookit this!” his cousin says, pointing at the pale, ragged-edged ear dangling between the subjects of her lecture on chest support. It’s been salted and clean for a couple of years now, and he keeps it oiled like any good piece of leather you’d want to preserve. “You kept it- ohhhhh, is it special?”
“Do you like someone?”
Biter is batting away their hands and their giggles and blushing furiously, “stooooop-”