DISCLAIMER: This entire story is Copywrite. MINE. Got it? World of Warcraft, however, is NOT. Most characters are my own, except characters like Thrall and such. The world, too, belongs to Blizzard.
In between chapters, you should stretch to keep good circulation!
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Chapter 7: Independence and Incivility
The holding cell was cold and hard, as to be expected. I was chained up against the wall, which I found unnecessary, seeing as how I made no attempt to struggle at all. I was given a few pieces of odd flavoured bread to eat in the middle of the day, and that was it. I didn't eat it anyway. The only words I spoke were utters of gratitude when the Orc came by with food and drink. It was the same one every time, and he seemed rather upbeat, a harsh contrast to the way I felt right now. The ground was stiff and uncomfortable, but that was the least of my problems. To be honest, I didn't want to be anywhere warm or comfortable anyway. I wanted to sit here and suffer, maybe then I'd learn my lesson.
I don't know what it is about me that I don't like, but right then I really, really didn't want to be near me. I hated myself. I was stupid, I know I was. To honestly believe that in a situation where a Blood Elf was to risk him life, that he would. Blood Elves aren't like that. Even some Humans aren't like that. Maybe only I was like that, and it was a really stupid quality. "Stupid... but brave," Kujajin had said to me once. I didn't feel brave any more. I felt like I had been cheated, abandoned, and it was all my stupid doing. No, I wasn't brave. I was just plain old stupid.
Oh God, was I ever stupid. For the beginning of my time locked in that cell, all I thought was stupid thoughts. I kept thinking things like, "He's still in the city, he'll come and rescue me," things like "He's not like everyone else, he'll show up, I know he will." But he didn't. This was no fairy tale, I was no Princess, and he was no Prince Charming. He was the betrayer. And this is what I get for being so stupid. Stupid to trust an Elf, and stupid to keep thinking he'd come back for me. This is not that kind of story, I suppose. It's not one of those stories where the hero comes and rescues the girl, no, this was realistic. I was my own hero, I guess, I was always getting myself out of shit. And this hero was stupid as hell.
It was long past dark out when that same Orc came to my cell to fetch me, not that I had been paying attention to the time of day. He took me by the wrist shackles and guided me down a long flight of stairs, into some kind of war hanger. He took me to the biggest, and obviously the most dangerous, wagon in the whole hanger, where we met another Orc. My cell attendant Orc passed me off to the next one, and he shoved me harshly as I climbed inside. I sat in the far corner, by myself. I heard the angry grumbles as the men scurried around preparing for leaving. I'll bet this is how all races are, I mean, if I had been born an Orc, or a Troll or whatever, and I had been sitting in on a meeting of Humans, I bet the same thing would have happened to me. We're all hypocrites and savages.
I didn't look up as the curtains at the back of the wagon lifted briefly and someone entered. I focused on a knothole in the wood between my feet, tracing its curves with my mind's eye. It looked like a bullet hole, or a crater. I raised the side of my mouth at it in a scowl, as if it were the source of my Rage. That very someone who entered stood over me, and I hesitated looking up. I didn't want to give them the satisfaction. But they weren't about to let up, nor leave, so finally stole a glance.
"You're a brave being," Thrall spoke seriously, a complete contrast to my own perception of myself, "unafraid of us. Unafraid of death, and all this trouble."
"Yeah well," I scuffed my foot over the wood imperfection, "What do I have to stay in this world for anyway," I murmured cynically, though in my heart I knew it was bull. I wasn't brave, I just had nothing better to fear than my own lack of ability to judge.
"Hm." That must have been an approving smirk, or a thoughtful grunt. He crouched in front of me and looked at me with his cracked and ageing eyes, "That doesn't mean I'll spare you so easily."
"I never thought you would," I turned my head away and tried to look uncaring as I leaned my head on the wall behind me. I didn't want to look at him, he might see through me.
"Fair enough," he straightened and began leaving, "You cause any more trouble and I won't hesitate to change my plans by killing you."
"Yes sir." I mocked quietly.
"Though I hope it won't come to that." He looked back at me, and I took the instant to turn my eyes to his. Buried deep inside the rage and despising glare, I felt a pang of sympathy. It almost made me jump, the feeling of mutual respect I had with this man, my own enemy.
I turned my eyes away again and looked out the small window near me. The curtain flapped open again as he left. I almost smirked. I, a mere Human, impressed big high-and-mighty Warchief Thrall. If I were to live to enlist again, I'd put that on my damn resume. I heard voices getting louder and footsteps stomping around near the exit as nearly a dozen people entered. Two Blood Elves, one Troll, an Undead, and six Orcs entered casually. I assumed the Tauren were in the larger wagons a little ways behind us. God, there were a lot of Orcs. They sat down around me, almost ignoring me for the moment. Or perhaps they didn't even notice me, not until someone spoke up.
"'Ey Mon, we get to share teh' wagon with teh' 'uman." The Troll cackled lightly.
"I don't know if that's much of a privilege," a Blood Elf remarked roughly, casting me a condescending gaze from the saddle of his high horse.
"I do," The second Blood Elf retorted, "She's a female, isn't she?" He looked over at me, and though it was hard to tell with his glowing eyes, I was sure his eyes were lingering South of mine.
"Take a screenshot, it'll last longer." I muttered angrily, not wanting to bother.
"Feisty," the same Blood Elf smirked, "yum." I wasn't sure if he was mocking me or if he was just horny.
"…" I grimaced and averted my eyes, really wishing that I was back in that cell.
"This will be fun," the Blood Elf flipped his hair, "a Human to terrorize all the way there."
"I heard they're really good at the exotic arts," One Orc grinned, and I was suddenly very uncomfortable. Most men had a one-track mind, I swear they do.
"Oh come on," The first Blood Elf rolled his eyes, "Don't be stupid, she'll bite you, Kharn'A'Lei."
"Not with a fucking gun to her head." He retorted, almost seeming defensive. He must have been rather concerned with what these other men thought of him.
"Want to bet?" I glared at him. I didn't care what any of them thought of me, not at that moment, but I really didn't want them thinking they could do something with me like that.
The guy stood up and walked over to me. I looked up at him with a harsh glare and a scowl, but didn't move an inch to retreat. He towered over me like a monster, with a firm frown on his face. I snorted, showing him that I was not afraid. He reached down and grabbed the shackles on my hands, and I made no move to counter it, I thought perhaps he was just trying to make me more uncomfortable. Harshly, he yanked my arms down, pulling me off the bench and slamming me into the floor. I caught myself with my hands, on my knees now, my eyes hidden but wide with shock. He was far stronger in brute force than I was, and everyone knew that.
I stared down at his feet, which were just a short distance ahead of me. Through the guffaws of everyone else in the wagon, I heard him let out a huff of a laugh, arrogant and harsh. God, it killed me to feel so useless. Not wanting to sit any longer as if afraid to look into the eyes of those before me, I raised my head slowly; my eyes trailing up his feet to his legs. And from his legs to his stomach, to his chest, and up to his face, which seemed like it was miles away; Seeing as how I was on the floor.
He reached behind himself and retrieved a great mechanical advancement. One of the worlds most devastating inventions, his gun. My heart rate sped up without my consent, and I hoped to God he didn't know. He pressed the cold metal barrel to the side of my skull, my temple to be specific. I clenched my teeth and held my eyes locked with his. I wouldn't have him know that I was any scared of a man like him. That he even affected me at all.
"You'll do exactly as I say," The Orc began, his hand rested on the hem of his pants, threatening at any moment to pull them loose and let them fall to the ground.
"Make me." I retorted through my teeth, though my rationality and emotional vulnerability were not present in my lips. It was a habit of mine, to act so strong and fearless. Most of the time, I really wasn't.
"Or I'll blow your fucking brains all over this fucking wagon," He warned, his eyes becoming greyer with distance.
"I dare you." I said, almost smirking when his expression changed from menacing and pleased, to angry and ominous. I was almost impressed with myself, for once. I don't even know why I was acting like this, maybe I was just acting out. I was angry, and hurt, and just wanted to pick fights.
"Stupid bitch," He commented with a sharp tongue.
The loud bang ringing through my ears almost made me flinch, or jump clean out of my goddamn skin. I felt a quick burst of heat, followed by a cool wind whiz past my ear. Slowly and carefully, though trying not to show it, I turned my head back and let my eyes trail down to the floor and slightly behind me until they locked on to a small, fresh bullet hole in the floor. My stomach twisted uneasily as I gave my eyes back to the Orc reluctantly.
"Next time," He started with a tint of pride, "that'll be you," He spoke dangerously, probably feeling as though I'd be his slave suddenly, "Now," he tugged at the hem of his pants, dropping them just enough to expose something not meant for my eyes. I cringed and almost submitted to closing my eyes, "Show me your magic."
"…" I glared up at him, not daring to move a muscle in any direction, partially because I was almost frozen stiff, "Repulsive."
"Quit bitching, open your fucking mouth, and suck." He grinned a yellow toothed smile as he slid the barrel of the gun back and forth over my forehead, as if it would turn me on or something. It definitely didn't, well, not while he was the one doing it. Not that I was in that kind of mood anyway.
"…" I scowled, hating the position I was in.
I let my eyes fall from his face down his waist a ways to the sight I dreaded. I didn't want to look at that at all, not even in my imagination, much less a few inches from my face. I wanted to throw up or something. But instead, I figured that perhaps I would have a little fun. I moved forward slowly, parting my lips slowly. The Orc leaned back casually, moving his pelvis outward. I let my eyelids droop in a way to seem as though I was almost pleased. I let my jaw open further, breathing a warm breath. I almost let my lips touch his raw flesh, when I suddenly veered right and sunk my teeth into his lower thigh.
"Youch!" He yelped in pain and jumped nearly out of the wagon.
He smashed his gun into the side of my skull, sending me tumbling across the wooden floor onto my side. I felt like giggling madly; just listening to the sound of his pained howling echo through the hanger. The others were engulfed in laughter, smacking their hands on the seats and clapping in enjoyment as the Orc ran around frantically. I didn't know why I felt so satisfied, but it was in an empty way. I felt like I had hurt someone as much as I had been, but somehow it wasn't a very good feeling. Perhaps misery likes to be alone.
"You fucking bitch!" He shouted through his teeth he stormed over to me and kicked me in the head.
I rolled over, landing on my back in shock. I repressed a cough as my fingers trembled at the furthest end of each arm. He raced over to me again and stepped on my stomach, knocking the air clean out of me, as if it wasn't already. He continued his brutal attacks, stepping on my neck and tossing me around the room until someone else had to step in and pulled him back. I had barely begun to bleed, and my smirk of triumph was apparent, though it faltered through the numbness of my face. As my mind began to blank and my vision went black, I let out a few huffs of snickering, watching his tantrum. As I blacked out, I felt the wagon shutter roughly before quickening its pace, as we began to leave the hanger, and little rays of morning sun came through the curtains.
I groaned when I felt my head pounding. It was a really bad migraine, I could tell, and my eyes weren't even open to the light yet. Those kicks to the head definitely didn't help the situation. My stomach hurt like a son of a bitch, and it almost seemed foreign to move my arm to touch it. I stared up with half open eyes at the ceiling, feeling the gentle rocking of the wagon over unfamiliar grounds threatening to lull me to sleep. I always get tired when I'm on transportation, especially when it's dark out, and from what I could tell, it was. That was strange, I must have been out for a while, or perhaps we were under some kind of overhang or something.
"Try not'a move s'much," A heavily accented voice advised me, though I could hardly make out the words.
"…" I remained silent, tilting my head to the side to catch the eyes of the man comforting me.
I was met by the sight of a Troll by my bedside, doing something I had rarely seen. I wasn't used to being healed by priests, so it was almost awkward to sit still while he fixed me up casually. It probably wasn't weird for him, he does it all the time, but I guess that's just how you feel when you're a patient. His eyes were focused on my wounds, and it seemed as though he intentionally avoided my gaze. He probably didn't want to associate with me either.
"Are you finished yet?" An Orc groaned impatiently from a little ways away.
"No mon, the cer'mony takes time," The troll rolled its eyes, and I almost laughed at how real they seemed to me right now, bickering like that.
"Everyone else is outside, hurry up you slow fuck," He grumbled, tapping his foot on the ground, "I'm hungry."
"Ya' don't have to stay n' wait, Juz'kar." He replied swiftly, not even casting a glance at his associate.
"I have to make sure that Human doesn't jump you when you're healing it," He said coldly, not even looking at me like a person, "it's got a record for biting the shit outta guys."
As I watched the two fight and argue, I kind of felt a little closer to them. It was always said to us that the Horde were just mindless killing machines, angry and violent, but as I lay there, listening to them, they suddenly felt more... Human, to me. They became a little more, well, mortal. I guess it felt odd to me, being here, with my enemies, and they're healing me. They're keeping me well and alive, I guess it just means something to me. In a weird way.
"Nah," the Troll ran its fingers slowly over my forehead, and I wasn't sure if it was a part of the ceremony or a comforting gesture, "She wouldn't do that."
"Whatever you say, I still have to wait here for you," He grumbled, "It's my job."
"An' that's why you're a good partner, mon." He smirked as he closed his eyes and continued the ceremony. These two seemed awfully close. I guess even my enemies can have close relationships, they're creatures after all.
I don't remember much of the treatment, nor do I care anyway. It's never been an interest of mine to wonder why we bleed and why we don't or anything, all I need to know is that we do. It didn't take too long, and before I knew it, I was feeling refreshed and as good as usual. It must be nice to have healers around, to make you better so quickly. I'm used to just waiting the pain out. I was dragged from the wagon outside, where a few wagons had parked close to each other and started a camp fire. I didn't know what time it was, or how long I was unconscious for, but it was pitch black around us. I'm sure that the other wagons had stopped along the way too, and were somewhere around.
The rough Orc shoved me down the ramp hurriedly, causing me to almost stumble over my shackles. I murmured a curse under my breath and followed his orders. The others bid no welcome to me; not that I expected one. He sat me down on a rock a little ways away from the rest of them, far from the fire, and drove a large, metal spike down through one of the chain links of my shackles; pinning my feet to the ground as to not let me escape. I thought it was excessive, he thought it was necessary.
I watched the Orc turn around and walk away, leaving me in the cold, darkness alone. I faintly heard the echoes of their Orcish laughter as they celebrated and feasted on some kinds of wild animals. I noticed that the trees here were much more lively and green than those around Durotar. Perhaps, was it possible we were back on the Eastern continent? I had probably been out for nearly the whole day, which meant it was entirely possible we had sailed over the ocean already. I was angry, wondering what I had missed, being unconscious and all. I wondered if perhaps something other than being healed had happened to me.
My mind drifted back to Kujajin as I stared down at my feet, and I wondered where he would be now. I frowned angrily and tried to occupy my mind otherwise. I didn't want to think about him, he had no right to be in my head. I had to get passed him, get passed all this. He wasn't coming to save me. I felt like I was being watched suddenly, and I looked up to meet the eyes of an Orc staring over at me. I couldn't really place him in my mind, but most Orcs look alike so I didn't linger on the thought. But he seemed to linger on me. He was kind of staring at me with an intrigued look. I shuttered and looked away. I hated when people stared at me, it was like I was being objectified. He stood up suddenly and walked over to me. I watched him approach, hoping he'd make a turn or something, but instead he came right up to me. I leaned away suspiciously as he knelt in front of me.
"Here," He held out a piece of raw meat to me, "Thrall says you have to look well, and you look sick and famished."
"Is that why that Troll healed me? So I'd look good for this whole invasion plan?" I asked, my eyebrows lowering, already knowing the answer.
"Yes." He nodded slowly as he placed the meat in my hands and stood back up, "We can't let you ruin this, I hope you understand."
"I understand," I repeated with a shrug. It wasn't as if I was surprised or anything anyway.
He turned around and walked back to the camp fire with the others, giving a wave over his shoulder at me. I didn't want his wave, though. I grumbled and flipped him the finger. I stared down at the raw piece of meat in my hands with a blank expression. It smelled quite rank, as most meats did before they were cooked. I didn't know why Orcs ate such vile things, but I suppose that they probably think the same of what we eat.
I snapped my head up when a heard a loud bellowing laugh in my direction. Another Orc was holding his stomach laughing. I watched for a few seconds in wonder, until I saw that his obnoxious chubby finger was pointed in my direction. I raised an eyebrow at the man and waited for an explanation for his behaviour. Though I didn't really need one, I've noticed that some simple creatures find amusement in the stupidest things.
"Ah, the Human needs fire!" It gargled through chuckles, and I was almost embarrassed to know that he knew such a thing, perhaps he read it on my face or something.
The whole lot of them lit up with laughter. It must have really knocked them out, damn near the funniest thing they'd ever heard I'll bet. I lowered my eyebrows again and glared at them. One of them stood up and ripped a large stick from the fire, still blazing. I thought for a second he was going to throw it at me, for he waved it around like crazy. Instead, he ran over to me and waved it in my face, as I backed away slowly as to not be burned. He really was loose with his arms, he might have clubbed me, had I not been paying attention. Perhaps he had been drinking.
"You want fire? Do you?" He mocked me, waving it around faster, so it looked like a streak of burning light before me.
"…" I bit my tongue and kept my thoughts to myself while the rest of them laughed uncontrollably. Had I been able to use my hands properly I would have shoved the burning club down his goddamn throat, I swear I would have.
"Well," He tossed it on the ground and stepped on it, immediately destroying the heat and light, enveloping me in the darkness again, "Make it yourself you stupid creature."
The guy laughed and walked away from me, joining his companions once again in their spews of laughter. I snorted again at their rudeness. I looked down at the large piece of still warm wood at my feet. I kicked it lightly and it rolled over. I grunted angrily. I did need fire, to cook my meat, else I get sick or something. Not that I honestly would mind being sick, I just didn't want to lose my strength around these savages. So, as I sat in the cooling darkness by the dead and rotting fire, I began to wrap my mind around possibilities as to how to revive it. I was never a person to let something so brilliant die out, now was I.
I placed my meat on the stone beside me and plucked strands of grass from around my feet. I put them all in a pile around the spike between my feet. I gathered the odd twig and piece of moss from my seat, also dropping the strategically around the base of my confinement. I moved my feet a little farther away, to make more room. I put the chain of my arm shackles around the spike, slipping my hands on either side of it; the chains linking them in front of it. I pulled hard so the chain was forcefully pressed against the metallic pole, and began scraping the chains up and down quickly.
I focused on grinding the chains against the spike, the creepy scraping noise making my skin tingle. I felt my skin heating from movement even in the cold air, as if I were sitting on a beach in the sun somewhere far away. A spark shot out from the friction, snapping me back to attention. I moved my hands more quickly, causing the sparks to fly faster. The grass sizzled and burned lightly. I leaned down and blew gently on it, like breathing life into the mouth. Again I let out a slow and steady breath, until the flame burst from the grass like a miniature explosion. I put more grass on and let the fire catch bigger twigs until it was large enough to consume the stick that the Orc had left me. I glanced around and found another rather large piece of wood, and placed it alongside the first.
I smirked in triumph as the flame grew bigger. The laughter of the other Orcs began to die down, as more attention drifted to me a short distance from their festivities. The flames grew big enough to sustain themselves, though it was indeed hot on the sides of my feet and legs, and I picked up the meat once again. I tossed it in the air and caught it on the chains linking my wrists, balancing it carefully. I leaned my hands forward, resting my elbows on my knees for support as I held it over the fire. I looked up and locked eyes with Thrall from across the way.
He was sitting on a long, like any other of his subordinates, on the other side of the bonfire, staring at me intently. I found it an admirable quality of him to make himself seem more approachable by levelling himself with those around him. His expression was amused and intrigued, which made me smile back at him, a sly kind of daring smile. It was odd, it was almost as though Thrall and I had this weird connection, a kind of mutual respect almost. Almost. The meat began to sizzle and steam, taking my attention back to it. It didn't take too long to cook, the fire was warm and the meat was fresh. The sides of my legs, also, were pretty nicely cooked. The meat was tasty, whatever it was. I wasn't about to ask; food was food.
Currently, I was lying on my bench in the wagon. I got my own bench because no one wanted to sleep or even sit next to me, so I was pushed off into the corner by the front. But as I lay in this small, closed off vehicle I found that the snoring of the nearby Orcs, Trolls, and Elves was almost comforting. Though, the Orc that had tried desperately to pick a fight with me was nowhere around any more. They had probably moved him to another wagon. I didn't quite feel so alone, or so lost, for I was with life, and with those who might have somehow in their way felt love. My hands were behind my head casually, though the chains were uncomfortably digging into my scalp. I didn't feel the need to move at all.
But finally, from the pull of curiosity I looked to my left and saw the strange creatures roll around in their sleep. I retained my calm exterior and kept my eyes open, watching them as if they were the words in a book. Like something to watch, something that never could come and hurt me. From across the wagon and between the barrier of consciousness I was safe from them. Still, however, I couldn't let myself relax enough to sleep again, especially after already being knocked out for so long. I was never good at sleeping around people I didn't trust, but at least I was a very light sleeper, so if they tried anything, I'd know it. But that wasn't the only reason I couldn't quite enjoy a pleasure such as rest, there was this vacancy, this feeling of apathetic vulnerability. It was as though I was unable to do anything at all except wallow in such a feeling as sorrow.
As I watched the skipping of the moonbeams as they flashed through the cracks in the ceiling, my mind wandered aimlessly. I don't recall a time when I had felt that utterly miserable. My eyes half-open and my heart half-beating in a strained, broken way. My mouth formed an even frown, with the air of lacking enthusiasm. I was sure I lay as still as a statue, as a sculpture. On the outside, I remained calm and uncaring, a stone; while on the inside I was burning with rage, regret, and emptiness. That happens to me sometimes, when I just get so frustrated and tired that it just festers into almost a kind of physical ailment. I closed my eyes and let out a breath quickly. Within a few more minutes of indeed needing to force myself to sleep, I finally managed to do it.
It felt nice, for once, a little bit of rest. But it's hard to gauge how long you've been out when you finally come to, especially when it happens by surprise. My wrist twisted in pain and my eyes snapped open. There were probably four or five of them standing over me, their faces unlit and dangerous. It was barely light out, and I could hardly make out the faces of my attackers as they stood over me, it was as though I was in a grave hole and these men were burring me shovel full by shovel full. Before thinking, I let out a cry and attacked.
"Thunder Clap!" I shouted as I sent them flying to other sides of the wagon, every one of their nerves twitching with electric energy. The weak frame of the wagon lurched with agony and cracked in a few places. They remained stunned for a few seconds as the others, who weren't affected or threatening me, went to their aid.
I sat up abruptly, as I had still been on my back, and looked around at the various separated offenders. I didn't know what they had been planning to do to me, but right now I didn't really want to know. I rubbed my aching wrist, from where one had held it tightly, and tried to look less threatening. I pressed my back up against the wagon's side and curled myself into a defensive kind of posture, watching carefully. I sat calmly until everyone had finally regained themselves and began running around chaotically, in anger and confusion. In the midst of this, I didn't notice Thrall and the Warlock arrive to see what the commotion was about.
"What's going on?" The Warlock spoke up as the curtain flapped closed.
"That—that Human!" One began, "She can use Warrior techniques!"
Everyone was silent at that, and all I could hope is that I wasn't sweating or turning bright red with all these eyes looking through me. Thrall over questionably, and gestured for the Undead man to get closer with him. He nodded and obeyed, walking over to me and kneeling down to stare into my eyes. I held the stare; using all my courage to retain it. That was hard for me to do, hold eye contact, unless I really needed to. I had a good poker face, but usually only when I'm lying. He cocked his head slightly to the left and continued to stare. I returned his confused and questioning look as if implying I were studying him. Even in these tense situations I liked to poke at people.
"Is that true?" He asked me calmly, eager to study my reaction.
"No," I denied it, with as straight a face as he had, "That's stupid. I can't use Warrior techniques, obviously."
"I agree," One of the others spoke up, "I didn't see it clearly, it could have been anything."
"Yeah," Another added, "and that'd be just freaky, y'know."
"Well then what was it?" The first one asked, to everyone in the wagon, who again put their eyes back on me.
"The real question was," I turned the subject in my favour, "what were you trying to do to me?" I countered, giving my slick glare to the few I recognized as the aggressors.
"Yes," Thrall agreed, turning to them, "What were you trying to do?"
"It's not as if she's one of us, boss," One replied shakily, "We just wanted to have a little fun, y'know? It gets boring in a wagon all night and day."
"I don't care if she's one of us or not," Thrall looked dangerously at them, "Having her with us means having a whole other wagon to attack from, as well as an actual Human who knows colloquial Common, who can talk us out of any trouble and possibly be the key to the success of this mission," He said in an almost shout, causing everyone in here, including me, to straighten, "She is as important as any of my soldiers right now, whether I care about her or not."
"Oh," They all looked at their feet awkwardly, making sure not to draw any further wrath.
I hadn't known I was that important, but I suppose I save them quite a bit of trouble. I was still on the fence about whether I should help the enemy or just get myself killed, but really, I had no reason to do either. So why not just stay alive a little longer, maybe I could fight my way out in the end. Maybe I could run away, and actually end up becoming a hermit or whatever I wanted to be. I smirked and stuck my tongue out at one of the Orcs in a rude gesture. He grunted and scowled at me.
"Don't push your luck," Thrall said without having seen the gesture, and turned to glare at me.
"Being locked up in a wagon full of Orcs and Trolls doesn't actually make me feel all that lucky anyway." I turned my head a bit away from him but kept my eyes locked.
Thrall held his remark, I presumed, as he left the wagon once again. I had a feeling that I was given special treatment for some reason, maybe I had made an impression on the guy. Yeah, right, I'll bet he just wanted a safety net in case things went wrong inside. I sneered and turned away. The others began to calm down after a short while; although everyone sat as far away from me as possible. I wasn't really surprised, of course. I didn't know whether it was because they were afraid of me hurting them, or afraid of snapping and killing me.
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Preview of Next Chapter:
"Ah," He grinned as he lifted me off the ground by my neck and released my wrists, for a heap of dust, he was very strong, "The little Warrior girl."
"That's right," I growled out, my voice more hoarse than I had intended.
"You had us all fooled," He said simply, not looking at me with any scrap of seriousness, "We were oblivious.He sure liked to talk down his own people, "Duel spec is one thing, but dual class? I never would have guessed."
"Damn-" I choked a laugh, "Straight," I managed through my coughing.
"Right now, Thrall is waiting patiently just outside the city for my command to come in and claim it as our own," He went on, as they always do when they think they have it all in the bag, "And you've been making him wait."
"An impatient guy like him," I agreed, "He'll blame you for it," I concluded through my struggle.
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