Call Me A Pet One More Time
Hunter's Pet, Hunter's Pet!
The mocking call of the Blisterpaw Hyena hooted across the shimmering sands of Tanaris. Doc snarled back but kept his pace steady with the FrostSaber mount of his two-leg. He would have dearly loved to go after that ugly, laughing piece of offal, but a well-trained Hunter's Companion never left his post without a command to attack. No matter that he was sweltering in this heat, that his eyes were smarting from the bright, unforgiving sun or that the hyena deserved to die for insulting him – a Hunting Companion stayed at his Hunter's side.
Doc wasn't sure what his two-leg was doing. She seemed to be traveling randomly, changing directions occasionally, then dismounting and digging in the sand. She would bring up strange looking and smelling objects, stow them carefully in her backpack, and then start over again. Doc let a shrug ripple from his powerful shoulders right down his muscles to his short stub of a tail. It made no sense to him, but it didn't matter what his two-leg did – what mattered was that he stay by her side, fight when told to and defend her with his life.
Hey pet, gonna just stand there looking stupid or are you gonna fight?
Doc turned with a growl and swiped instinctively at the Scorpid who had snuck up behind them. Rage building as the scaly creature hit him, Doc growled menacingly and clawed viciously at the Scorpid's face, drawing blood. An arrow whistled by his ear and thunked into the carapace, doing some damage but not much. Doc was peripherally aware that his two-leg had backed against one of the sandstones jutting from the desert and was firing arrows methodically. A brief glow of blue light indicated that one of the arrows was going to do more than draw blood, but all of this flashed through Doc's mind without registering. His job as a trained Companion was to beat the snot out of whatever threatened their lives or whatever his two-leg decided needed killing.
That the best you can do, pet? The scorpid grinned at him as a sharp claw opened a gash in Doc's front leg and the stabbing tail narrowly missed impaling the bear's side.
I am NOT a pet, Doc snarled back, biting a chunk out of the scorpid's face. I am a trained Hunting Companion.
You're bound to a two-leg, you follow it around and do whatever it asks you to do, the scorpid laughed through a spray of blood. You fight when it tells you to fight, you eat when it tells you to eat. Doc dodged the tail again and clawed a chunk of meat out of the scorpid's side. You are a little lap-bear of a pet!
I AM NOT A PET!
Doc grabbed, bit and clawed until the arrow-studded scorpid was little more than a bloody heap of scrap on the sand. Training kicked in once the life was gone; he turned and lumbered back to meet his two-leg who was heading towards the kill. She did her usual checking of the corpse for valuables that may have gotten stuck in its scales, and then efficiently skinned it, stowing the raw leather away for later processing. Doc wasn't entirely certain what she did with it all, but since there was always plenty of food for him, he wasn't going to complain at the stench that sometimes rose from her backpack.
"Let us be off now, Doc."
Doc looked around. His two-leg had mounted the big white spotted cat that she rode and was looking at him expectantly. Hurriedly, the bear fell into place and they again began their perambulations around the desert. As the exertion from the fight wore off and the heat bore down without mercy, Doc couldn't stop thinking about the insult that had been heaped upon him. With little to do but think as they ran, Doc wondered why this particular insult would have come about. After all, there had never been any time that he could have been mistaken for a pet, could there? Doc's thoughts went back to the beginning of his time with his two-leg.
He'd been very young, not much more than a cub really, when the tall two-leg had come into his personal hunting ground in Dun Morogh. As his dam had taught him, he had charged and attacked, but the strange two-leg did not try to hurt him. Instead, despite the bloody rents he had opened in her skin, she had kept murmuring something to him, her hands glowing a soothing, attractive green. The off-white bear had grown more and more reluctant to continue attacking, slowly losing interest in trying to kill her. Finally, it wasn't worth the effort anymore – it was much more to his liking to move to her side and allow her to begin training him. He stayed with her from then on, learning everything that she taught him and it was she who had named him "Doc", after his tendency to try and lick her wounds clean the way his mother had licked his. Her own name, Linaya, was immaterial. She was his two-leg and he would obey only her for the rest of his life.
That didn't make him a pet, did it? After all, his two-leg had pets – stupid, useless little creatures that she picked up wherever she could. Birds, strange creatures he didn't know the names of, even cats from that crazy-smelling lady outside of the big city – they didn't fight; they didn't do anything except eat, make a mess and sleep. Doc wasn't even allowed to eat them, which was completely unfair since sometimes he got a little peckish and his two-leg didn't always feed him right away. No, they simply existed to be pests. Now those were pets; he, Doc, was a trained Hunter Companion and proud to be at the side of his two-leg.
It wasn't long before the random criss-crossing of the desert turned purposeful and Doc and his two-leg were headed in a fairly straight line. They avoided some enemies, killed a few more that they couldn't avoid, but eventually a large structure appeared on the horizon. As they drew close, Doc saw that outside of it were some dead two-legs and three live ones waiting. Doc sniffed gingerly at the living ones – these two-legs certainly came in all sizes! One tall, like his own two-leg, a silver wolf sitting by its side; one medium sized with a red bandana covering the lower half of its face; and one very short one with green grass-like fur springing straight up from the top of its head. Doc didn't think he'd get more than a few mouthfuls should he eat it, but he knew this particular short two-legs and in fact still had the singed fur on his rump from the last time he'd tried to bite it. The short two-legs with grass fur on his head made fire come out of his hands at Companions who took umbrage at smart mouthed comments.
Doc also knew the tallest of the three waiting. The silver wolf Fenrir's two-leg and Doc's own had hunted together many times. Fenrir was a laconic Companion, but good in a fight – Doc had been proud to share kills with him before. The wolf's two-leg was also always courteous to him, something that Doc appreciated. Far too many two-legs weren't.
Doc didn't know what to make of the medium sized one. He'd hunted with Doc's two-leg before, but didn't seem to have much to distinguish him. Oh, he was all right in a fight; almost as ferocious as a Companion, Doc admitted privately to himself, but not nearly so sane. Other than that, the bear wasn't sure what to make of him. Doc decided to ignore him; he grumbled a greeting to Fenrir, who lolled out a tongue in a wolf smile, and then cocked a sweating furry ear at the conversation going on over his head.
"We wondered when you would be arriving, Linaya," the tallest said, removing his helm and letting the long ears that marked him a Night Elf free.
"My apologies, Bedoran, I was delayed," Linaya replied, her own long ears twitching. "Goren, Kynkade, thank you for coming."
"No problem, babe," Goren replied airily, and then leered at her. "I'm always happy to help a sexy night elf chick like you."
Kynkade's hand twitched and Goren jumped as a small gout of fire was applied to his rear end.
"If you keep that up," the little gnome advised calmly. "I will be happy to BBQ you for the pets."
Doc snarled at Kynkade but when the gnome lifted an eyebrow in his direction, the bear subsided and carefully looked away. He had no desire to have more fur removed from his rump.
"Keep what up?" Goren inquired, rubbing his rear end and trying to inconspicuously put Linaya between himself and the tiny mage. "Just appreciating the sexiness of the lady here."
Kynkade didn't bother to reply. As the leader of this little party, it was his job to try and keep his group members alive. As the only magic user, he was unfortunately also the most vulnerable. But he figured with the two hunters shooting, the animals as front line attacks and the rogue helping where needed, they should be able to take out the trolls and undead that infested the ruins of Zul'Farrak without too much in the way of damage or death.
He hoped.
And if that bear snarled at him again, a before fight meal would be on him and he would be apologizing to Linaya for her having to train a new pet.
After outlining the basic plan of attack, and getting promises from the rogue to pay attention, Kynkade took a deep breath. "Ok, let's go."
Bedoran and Linaya loped side by side into the ruins so Doc found himself next to Fenrir. He glanced sideways at the wolf who appeared calm but radiated a tense expectant energy. Fenrir cocked an ear at him and sneezed at some sand the rogue kicked up.
Got a problem with the mage? Fenrir inquired in his slow drawl.
He called us pets, Doc replied, snapping at a scarab that scuttled too close. The scarab clicked insultingly but continued on its way.
And? Fenrir stopped when the two-legs did, crouching, ready to spring forward when given the command.
We're Hunting Companions, not mere pets, Doc tried to explain, imitating the wolf's stance, enough of his attention on his own two-leg to ensure that he was ready to attack whomever she indicated. Pets are those useless little creatures that do nothing but take up space.
They're edible, Fenrir barked a laugh, but further conversation wasn't possible as the commands to attack were given and both animals surged forward towards their chosen opponents.
The trolls were tough and Doc sustained injuries while taking down the first of the enemies his two-leg directed him to. As per their usual procedure, once he was done with that one, he surged into the fray and ended up pulling the attention of a troll off of the little gnome mage. Clawing and biting his way through the troll's sand-toughened skin, Doc was helped along by gouts of fire bursting around him. He didn't understand how, but he appreciated the fact that the fire never touched him, only the troll it was aimed at. The troll gave out his death cry and collapsed – Doc quickly checked around for more opponents. Finding none, he loped back to his two-leg's side.
"Ok, that was pretty easy," Kynkade commented as he swigged from a sweet smelling container. "Goren, you've got to stop getting their attention. Your job is to slash and dash."
"I do slash and dash," Goren protested. "But I gotta get in there, let those trolls feel the awesomeness of the mighty Gor!"
Kynkade sighed. "You are not a warrior, you are not covered in metal to protect your squishy, dangly bits. Why do you persist in forgetting this?"
"Come on, little dude, I can take them on! I gotta impress the ladies you know."
"Call me 'little dude' one more time…"
"Ok, ok, Kynkade then," Goren hastily backpedaled. "But seriously, I can do more than slash and dash."
"Maybe in a one on one situation you might – and I stress MIGHT – be able to, but here you are drawing the attention of far too many of them at once," Kynkade told him evenly. "You are not here to pull the weight of the damage down on yourself. Let the pets take the brunt of it, they can handle it."
Doc growled, his temper rising. I am not a pet!
Linaya soothingly scratched his ears. "Do not worry Doc, we will slaughter them all in time."
Doc snarled and pulled away from her, padding a few feet distance. Not being able to communicate properly with his two-leg was one of the things he hated the most. He understood almost everything she said to him, but she often misunderstood what his own issues were no matter how hard he tried to communicate them.
Issues, hell, Doc grumbled under his breath, I don't have issues, I have subscriptions.
You have what? Fenrir inquired, his sharp ears picking up the barely audible comment, as the two-legs continued their conversations above their heads.
Nothing, Doc growled. I'm just sick of being called a pet!
What does it matter what they call us? Fenrir asked reasonably, scratching behind his ear with an energetically pumping hind leg.
Would you like to be called a nightsaber? Doc inquired sarcastically. Or better yet, a stinking hyena?
Fenrir stared at him, his yellow eyes narrowing. Try it, bear.
It's the same thing, Doc explained, as soothingly as he could with his own temper simmering. We are trained Hunting Companions, we do an important job and we deserve the respect that our position entails. We should not be called such a degrading name as 'pet'.
The command was given to attack and Doc spent his rage on several trolls. It didn't eliminate his anger, but it served to blunt it a bit. His training put it aside for now; there were enemies to destroy.
Another breather came between battles. Doc panted in the heat that the sands radiated from the brutal sun above. The healing touch of his two-leg took care of his injuries and a snack was offered. Doc was too angry to eat, so he simply slumped in what little shade he could find. He looked up briefly when Bedoran and Fenrir approached.
"Linaya," the tall night elf nodded to her, his glowing eyes gleaming brighter with the adrenaline of the fighting. "Our pets are doing a good job aren't they?"
Doc's anger rose again but he was too hot to do more than let out a half-hearted growl in Bedoran's direction. Fenrir growled back warningly.
"I admit that I am a bit worried about Doc actually," Linaya replied, turning troubled luminescent eyes towards the bear. "He has been much more agitated lately than usual. In general he is a fairly calm beast."
"Aw, he's just cranky in the heat, babe," Goren advised her from where he was feinting dagger strikes at inoffensive shadows. The rogue never seemed to stop moving, Doc observed, and it was frankly irritating in this heat. "Take him to Ironforge after this; give him some time to roll around in the snow."
"Do you think that will work?"
"He's from there, isn't he? Hey, every pet needs some time in their home territory."
Had someone been in reach, Doc would have been sorely tempted to take a chunk out of whatever body it was. Would no one understand the dignity and responsibility inherent in the job that Hunting Companions did? Was there not a single other companion who believed as he did? Was he truly the only person who found the appellation 'pet' offensive?
The trolls came at them and there was a scramble to get into position. Doc's mind gnawed at the appellation of pet even as his powerful jaws gnawed at the trolls. He couldn't shove it aside anymore; each time anyone addressed him or Fenrir the label 'pet' was used. The heat was intense, the glare from the sun was blinding, but Doc didn't care. He ripped through the trolls with an almost mindless rage, tearing and shredding each enemy with a ruthlessness he had never exhibited before.
We are not pets! We are not pets! WE ARE NOT PETS!
The mantra carried Doc through every blood filled battle until they finally took down the huge hydra that awaited them at the end. Spattered with gore, tired but triumphant, the entire party trooped back to the opening of the ruins where they rested in the shade before the long journey back to Gadgetzan. Doc was too angry to settle; instead he paced back and forth through the two-legs as they lolled on the sands with snacks.
"A good victory for the Alliance," Bedoran said quietly, nodding sharply to emphasize his words. "We have definitely struck terror into the hearts of the enemy." He scratched Fenrir behind the ears. "And we couldn't have done it without our faithful friends."
"Yeah, they did good," Kynkade nodded. "You all did." He glared at the smart mouthed rogue who sat on the other side of Linaya. "Even you."
"Thank you again," Linaya nodded to each. "I appreciate all of the hard work everyone did to clear out this Goddess-damned infestation."
"Hell yeah," Goren nodded vigorously. "We rocked! And you know, I really don't think we could have done it without Doc and Fen." He reached a hand out towards Doc who was passing him. "Come for well deserved ear scratches, boy! You're an awesome pet!"
PET THIS!
The hand was re-attached by a priest in Stormwind and Doc spent three weeks in the stable while Linaya earned the gold to pay for it.