Night shrouded the land as Thrall marched silently down the road cutting through the human village. The pure light of the stars and full moon revealed how very desolately charred and ravaged it was around him. A vanguard of orcs–his orcs–had just sliced their way through it earlier that day. There'd been a contingent of human soldiers stationed there, with the intent of preventing the orcs' movement through the area. His grunts had returned to camp proud, and at that very moment, the entire hold was no doubt enraptured in "celebration" of their victory.
Thrall stopped, gazing solemnly down at the ruined child's toy near his armored boot.
Victory…but at such a cost…
The young warchief heaved a great sigh, his face contorted in pain–one that echoed from his heart. It grieved him for such monstrosities to be necessary; war was messy, it was tragic. But they needed to leave. Why wouldn't the humans just let them leave? Thrall looked up and around again, taking in the sight of the ruined village once more. With one more sigh, the Orc turned to leave and return to his camp.
But a sound halted him: a child's cry.
Thrall turned slowly, scowling as he struggled to pinpoint the source of the cry. Luckily, not only was his hearing strong, but more cries came. He followed the sorrowful noises as they led him to one of the less damaged buildings. For whatever reason, this one was all but spared from the ruin.
The humans must've kept my orcs away from it, Thrall mused.
The warchief entered slowly, so as not to let his armor–a gift from an old friend–clang against itself. He would rather avoid frightening whatever youngling hid within the building. It was not long before Thrall found the child: they lay huddled and crying from beneath a bed. He took one, gentle step–but the armor of his boot betrayed him, the resulting clunk making the cries cease. The shuffling that followed was undoubtedly the youngling hiding deeper beneath the bedframe.
Thrall cringed. "Easy now, easy. I am not a threat to you."
At first, there was no response but a sniffle. Then he heard more scuffling, followed by a fearful squeak.
Thrall sighed, "I know, I know what I am, but I will not hurt you."
"Wh-why n-not?" The child stuttered. The voice was so small and frightened, Thrall's heart all but cracked.
"Because…" He hesitated. What should he tell the child? Why was he even speaking to it? He had no reason to, and it was not his business. But…the child was now doubtlessly an orphan–and it was his fault.
Thrall took a deep breath and tried again. "Because I cannot leave a small pup like yourself all alone."
At first, he was met by silence–sniffling silence, but still. Eventually, however, the child emerged. It was a young girl, much too young to be parentless; her hair was brown and shaggy, as well as dirty, along with her round face (possibly from ash and soot). Bright blue eyes shone past this, though, and met his own.
Thrall knew his face would not be the most friendly-looking, not to a small human girl. But he tried for a gentle smile anyway, lowering himself onto one knee. He held out his arm like he'd seen young squires do for the ladies, as he'd spied during his slave years. It did not occur to him, however, that a girl as young as this one would be unfamiliar with the gesture.
But that didn't matter, as she crawled out from under the bed, ran past his offered arm and leaped to hug his armored chest. Thrall gaped at the wee lass, taken quite aback as he fought the urge to pry her off. Instead, he reasserted his smile, and moved his held out arm to instead hold the child against his chest plate. With her secured by his arm, and with the tight grip on the armor that she had, the girl clung tight and refused to budge.
Thrall stood slowly, then turned and left the building. But just as he took one step beyond the threshold, the girl's head came up.
"Wait!"
He stopped and looked inquiringly down at her. When it seemed she wanted down, the young Orc complied, and watched in confusion as she scurried back in. Not a few moments later, the child emerged with a blue, fine twill blanket and a small, stuffed toy dog clutched to her chest. Without hesitation, she stood right at his feet held up one hand, and flexed her fingers expectantly. Thrall smirked as he picked her right back up again, and the girl seamlessly resumed her previous, all but cuddled position, toy dog and blanket now in her possession.
The warchief gazed uncertainly at the human pup nestled against his armor. He wasn't sure what to make of the situation, and was still hesitant of the wisdom of his decision. After all, what Orc would dare take in a human child as he just had?
…perhaps an Orc who'd lost his parents to the other race as well?
Thrall held the young girl gently and he returned to camp; he also made sure to keep her out of sight as he arrived. Luckily, the festivities had ended, and most of his orcs were either too exhausted or too drunk to notice. He entered his private sleeping quarters, then slowly removed the human pup from his armor and laid her–blanket, dog, and all–on his own bed. After he detached the clasps of his armor and placed the individual pieces back on the mannequin in the corner, Thrall then plucked his fur blanket from his bed and made himself comfortable on the floor.
Imagine the young orc's surprise when he awoke the next morning to find the girl cuddled him against him.