Obligatory disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, or I would have gotten more of the details right.
The lines between consciousness and unconsciousness seemed increasingly blurred, and Litha drifted gratefully between them. She had learned to live with uncertainty and fear during her time with the goblins, and her emotions tended to veer wildly between anger and acceptance, but apathy was new to her. It was relaxing.
She knew the apathy wasn't entirely her own. The tauren, a looming black beast that stunk of cow dung, had healed her, at least somewhat, and then poured a potion into her mouth that deadened the pain, as well as all other sensation.
She was vaguely aware of being with the troll, because he smelled of something more foreign than cow dung; something sharp but not unpleasant. It reminded her of the smell of elves, in a way, but earthier. Like the woods after a rain. But sweaty.
She was being bounced and jostled against him as they moved, and she knew that the movement was causing her blistered leg to ooze and hurt, but though the pain was there, it came to her quite neutrally. She observed it as one might observe the difference between two shades of beige. It did not feel to feel, right now.
Occasionally she was aware of the press of a water skin against her lips, and she drank obediently. She thought she felt the pressure of the troll's gaze, as well, but it did not bother her, and she did not open her eyes to it. She was riding child-like in his lap, her legs draped limply to either side of his hips, and she felt the impression of chain mail making a pattern on her cheek, the rhythmic movement of a hard, flat chest beneath it. A heavy leather-clad arm was bracing her there, a thin cloak draped loosely to keep the sun from her face. He spoke sometimes, his voice low and rough, but she did not think he was speaking to her.
After what seemed a long time, she noticed that they were no longer moving. In fact, she was lying down, on a bedroll, under a tarp. She could still sense the troll, and when she shifted, her foot bumped against a hard shape beside her. She turned and saw the troll sleeping next to her. He was stretched on his back on the bare earth, an arm draped across his eyes. He had taken off most of his armour and slept only in leather trousers. Although he was slim compared to the orcs and the tauren, his heavily muscled shoulders were twice as broad as her own. His lean chest gleamed in a pale mint green, with a tuft of black hair in the middle, and a more noticeable line running from his navel down. It had never occurred to Litha that trolls would have belly buttons, and she found it oddly... humanizing.
Glancing down at herself, she saw her injured leg and hand were wrapped snugly in herb-scented bandages, and when she brought a hand to her throat, she felt bandaging there as well, twining under and over the metal collar. The suppressive power of the runic collar must have prevented the tauren from healing her wounds entirely, though it was not actually designed to prevent magic from being done to her. He was using the potions and salves to try and bridge the gap.
Outside, the glaring sunlight caused the ground to shimmer and blur... or maybe it was still the effects of the potion. She could make out a few burly figures shuffling back and forth, tending the camp, punctuated by Orcish grunts and mutters. As she watched, they drifted off into other simple tents or out of her field of vision until the camp was still. The party must have stopped to avoid traveling in the baking mid-day sun.
Her head still felt woolly, but her wounds were beginning to throb painfully, as was her bladder. She could not remember when she had urinated last, and now that she thought of it, she could think of nothing else. She waited as long as she could, listening for any further sounds of movement in the camp, until she thought she would burst. Then, slowly, she levered herself into a sitting position.
When she crept out from under the tarp, she looked about again for anyone left awake, but decided any lookouts must be outside the ring of tents. Nearby, the immense hairy black shape of the tauren was unmistakable, taking up the whole space under another tarp and even sticking out slightly.
With great effort, she managed to drag herself upright just outside the tent, but knew immediately that she couldn't go further. The pain was growing more intense by the minute, and her head was spinning from the effort of getting this far. After one last, helpless glance around the campsite, she dropped into a squat, her shift dress hiked to her hips, and simply peed in the dirt in the bright sunlight. The pain from bending her burnt leg was almost worth the relief she felt.
When she tugged her shift back down and glanced toward the tent, she was shocked to see the troll propped on one elbow, watching her. His eyes were a dark cobalt blue - the colour of the deep sea. They were startling on his scarred green face, tusks curving menacingly from the corners of his lips. She was not used to reading the expressions of trolls, but she thought his look was... a question. When he started to rise, she stopped him with a short shake of her head. She had pride. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself back into a standing position and walked (staggered) the few steps back to the bed roll before collapsing.
When he offered her the numbing potion again, she accepted.
Days or years may have passed. Litha wasn't sure, or sure that she cared. She existed in a series of repeating moments: the dusty, noisy times when she lay dozing against his chest as they traveled under the stars or early morning light, the baking hot afternoons when she would find herself on his bedroll under the tarp, the boisterous sound of singing and laughing in Orcish, the quiet rumble of the troll's voice when he spoke, the surprisingly delicate furry touch of the tauren, a wide black face with brown eyes, a whiskered black face with golden eyes, a tusked green face with blue eyes.
Sometimes she would flit into consciousness when the troll or the tauren would pour some water, potion, or broth into her mouth, and once she woke with a cry when they were changing her bandages. The tauren moved hastily to give her more potion, and for once she pushed it away, trying to sit up and see the wound for herself.
Her hand was healed now with puckered scar tissue stretching tightly across her palm, and they no longer wound bandages around her neck. The wound on her leg had contracted as well, but a jagged red and yellow crater still ran from her hip to her knee, and the bandage had stuck to it as the tauren tried to peel it away. It smelled of rot. Litha prodded it experimentally, and a spike of pain shot up her leg. She looked up at the troll and the tauren, who were looming over her. They both looked grim. She thought perhaps that was their usual expression.
"When... will I die?" asked Litha, finding her tongue thick and slow. Then she tried in her meager Orcish, "Die?" She looked pleadingly at the tauren. His horns were intimidating, but his large brown eyes seemed honest.
"N... no," said the tauren, and rambled on in Orcish for a little while, of which Litha could only pick out "die" again, and then "fix" and "try."
That wasn't helpful; she already knew they were trying to heal her. She wanted to know why. What did they plan to do with her? Her knowledge of the Horde suggested they would most likely rape, kill, and then eat her. She wondered how much longer they would try to heal her before that would happen. She hoped she would still be given the numbing potion. In the next instant, she vowed to stop taking it. She licked her lips and felt consciousness slipping away.
Desperately, she turned to the troll.
He was scowling, lower lip jutting upward between his tusks. As she stared at him, he ruffled his hair with one hand and clicked his teeth. He looked furious.
"Why are you healing me?" she gasped, racking her brain for a useful Orcish word. It was hard to think. Whenever the potion wore off, she felt too cold and too hot at the same time. Feverish. "What do you want with me?" Then, blackness crowded her vision and she let it take her.