Obligatory disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, or I would have gotten more of the details right.
The little human was unflappable; he had to give her that.
With her wide forest-coloured eyes, the smattering of freckles across her pert little nose, and her pink bowed lips, her appearance reminded him more of a delicate blood elf than the stinking, stubby humans he'd met in battle. The blood elves were a volatile and narcissistic race, but this human sat calmly astride his lap, accepting sips from his water skin even after he'd told her they were returning her to slavery. She seemed to accept the situation as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
She'd fallen asleep, now. She was curled limply against his chest, her tiny pink fingers twitching and flexing in a dream. The runes of her slave-collar glimmered and flickered, as if her magic flexed in her dreams as well.
What did humans dream of, anyway? Was she a simple civilian, bustling about in a stone castle, shoulder-to-shoulder with others of her kind, little humanlings dashing over the cobbles at her feet, some burly male at her side?
Or was she a warrior, reliving past battles lost and won, as he did?
Eikahe had carefully braided her singed hair, one short piece on either side, to keep it off her face in the tauren tradition. One of the plaits flopped across her eyes now, and Ga'vik tucked it carefully back behind her pink shell ear before wrapping his thin desert cloak more securely around her. Her eyelids fluttered as she squirmed and then settled against him, sighing.
He stared at her a while longer before realizing that the spreading heat in his lower belly was taking on a more solid shape. Worse, he could feel Eikahe's amused brown eyes on him. His tusks felt suddenly hot and he snapped his teeth together to relieve the sensation. Eikahe was convinced that Ga'vik was attracted to the little human with the irritatingly unpronounceable name. It was true, of course, but there was no need for the tauren to be so smug about it.
"You look uncomfortable, my friend," Eikahe said now, his broad face as solemn as ever. "Do you want me to carry Lissa for a while? Does she grow heavy?"
"She is getting heavier," snapped Ga'vik, though she was still light enough that it made little difference to him or to Jozala. The goblins must have fed her dreadfully little, if she filled out on the meagre diet of broth and potions they'd been able to get into her.
Eikahe held up two broad furry hands, but Ga'vik only huffed and edged Jozala away from him.
"Leave off. I'm fine."
Eikahe let his hands drop. "I think she's out of the woods, now, though there's nothing I can do about the scars." Besides her puckered right palm and the thin pink ridge around her neck, over half of her left leg was a whorl of irregular, shiny pink tissue. They only bandaged the middle section of her thigh, now, where the infection had taken hold and lingered for days. Ga'vik thought she felt cooler than she had before, and she looked peaceful as she slept.
"By your scars, the loas will know you," Ga'vik said. It was a troll proverb. He himself carried many scars. Some were tribal markings; others simply battle wounds that had been left to heal on their own.
"...and know that your healer isn't very good." Eikahe replied with a frown.
Dawn was approaching, and Ga'vik could see the sand dunes beginning to glow in the distance as the sun hit them. They were only three or four more days from Gadgetzan, even at the slow pace they kept. The party meandered this way and that across the Tanaris wastes, the lack of a road slowing their progress even more than the shifting sand. Tacking north-northeast and then east-northeast, they had hoped to cast a wide net over the unmarked route from Un'Goro. They had found three more sacked caravans, but no more survivors, and no hint of their quarry. In every instance, the bodies were already mangled or picked clean by scavengers, any evidence of their killers destroyed. No enemy weapons or bodies had been discovered, unless the attackers were goblins as well. They had left the corpses and burnt wagons to be buried by the dunes. It wouldn't take long.
"Do you think she knows who attacked them?" the troll mused, turning again to his tauren friend.
"Lissa?" Eikahe, like Ga'vik, could only lisp over the unfamiliar "th" sound, but he insisted on trying to say it all the same. "If she does, I'm sure the goblins will be grateful to hear it. The route from Un'Goro to Gadgetzan is rapidly becoming impassable, and they're losing gold every day."
"Grateful, sure," Ga'vik grunted. He did not think this was an emotion the goblins were capable of. Although technically they were neutral, fleecing Alliance and Horde alike, Ga'vik felt it was more true that they were on the war's side. The war, after all, was a profitable endeavour. By aiding both sides, the goblins kept the heads rolling, and the gold flowing. Even now, he and the rest of the Horde party were charged with finding (and preferably, executing) the culprits behind the caravan attacks. When the mission was completed, the goblins would be donating a small army's worth of rations and steel weapons to their cause. On paper, he, Eikahe, and the orcs had "volunteered" to help in exchange for "friendship and goodwill." He did not know if the goblins would hand over the "friendship and goodwill" so readily when their party returned empty-handed.
Empty-handed but for her, of course. The loas only knew what she was worth to the goblins. They didn't keep many slaves anymore, so she might be worth a great deal. Obviously, the Alliance frowned on the practice, though the goblins were always able to produce copious documentation indicating the "indentured workers" had signed themselves away.
There were Horde individuals in servitude, as well, and Ga'vik had seen a similar magic-suppression slave collar on a troll, once. At the time, he'd been scornful. What kind of troll would turn his back on his tribe, and sell his services off to others? Ga'vik felt more forgiving, now. His own life-changing decisions were nothing to crow about.
"When we set up camp, you should give the human some more of that potion to keep her quiet."
"I will, if she wants it," Eikahe said, in a mulish tone. Taurens were all stubborn, but Eikahe was downright obstinate when he wanted to be.
"I'm serious, Eik," Ga'vik ground out, "If Gurk notices that she's lively enough to fight back, he'll be even more interested."
Eikahe only harrumphed and walked on in silence.
The human was still asleep when they stopped to make camp at mid-morning. Ga'vik started to lift and pass her down to Eikahe, as he usually did, when she stirred and began to squirm. Reluctantly, he shifted his grip so he could set her down on her feet. She swayed only slightly, favouring her injured leg, before straightening and turning to survey the camp.
The rest of the party had already begun to set up their simple tents, and Ga'vik watched them watching her. When she had turned fully away from him, he peeled his lips back to show the orcs his canines in warning. He hadn't realized he'd growled as well, until Litha spun back to look at him. He deliberately relaxed his face into a nonchalant expression, glancing casually in the tauren's direction.
Eikahe had dumped his pack out and begun to lay out his tarp. They were all anxious to get into the shade before the sun reached its zenith.
"Keep her here with you," Ga'vik said firmly. After several gesticulated attempts between them, they managed to convince the human to sit in the sand by the tauren, on the far side of his tent from the rest of the camp. Ga'vik took Jozala over to the other mounts to unsaddle and groom her, glaring fiercely at several orcs along the way.
"The human girl is getting better," said Umog, Gurk's second in command. She was female, and Ga'vik did not think she posed any threat to the human beyond a quick death. He did not want the news of Litha's recovery to spread, though.
"Eikahe says, dat's a bad sign – infection so bad she don't feel it no more. She prob'ly contagious," he added, for good measure.
Umog followed his gaze toward Gurk, but only grunted in a neutral way. She was not stupid. Neither was Gurk, for that matter. He was not even particularly cruel, for an orc. He just did not see humans as creatures worthy of empathy, or even pity.
Ga'vik had always felt an affinity for living things. He had felt it in his earliest memories, as he trailed after the elder hunters. As he learned to both kill and tame animals, he became aware that they had emotions and desires. They sought pleasure and avoided pain… they dreamt when they slept, too. Simple emotions and simple dreams, but a certain presence nonetheless. They lived, and therefore they deserved life, when their death was not required. Ga'vik was a hunter and a leatherworker, so many animal deaths were required, but he never relished the killing. In those heady days, before he had been old enough to go to war, he had thought this must be true for all hunters who lived and died alongside their pets.
Once he joined the war, he climbed the ranks quickly. His status in his own tribe played a part in that, of course, but he himself was an efficient killing machine. Every blow he struck was potentially lethal, and every arrow aimed at heart, or jugular, or skull. Ga'vik saw that his comrades did not always do the same, but he did not question their technique. The Alliance members were less than animals, he told himself. They were The Enemy. Women and children of the Horde had suffered rape and torture at their hands, and The Enemy would reap what they had sowed.
He had been in the midst of a raging battle when his world had shifted. He had been crouched over an injured dwarf, his knife in hand, when he saw… it in the dwarf's eyes. There was an awareness; the presence that spoke of loving, and being loved. He had killed the dwarf, but found the disturbing feeling wouldn't leave him. Increasingly, he saw it in night elves, gnomes… and even in humans. They were The Enemy, still, but somehow they were also people.
He began to have doubts about killing those who were not actively trying to kill him. About putting himself in situations that would cause them to try and kill him, especially avoidable situations.
He began to have doubts about the war.
Expressing the doubts, unfortunately, had been a terrible idea. Then there had been the whole unpleasant business with his tribe… Ga'vik cursed himself for following that train of thought. He was here, now. He had not been condemned to death or exiled entirely from the Horde, so he should try to make the most of it. Even if it meant dragging his poor raptor through the drifting silicate wastes of Tanaris, on a "diplomatic" mission for the goblins, traveling with a rag-tag group of green orcs (literally and figuratively) and a smelly tauren druid.
In truth, Eikahe was the best part of being an outcast. Ga'vik had met him a couple of years ago, not long after the whole unpleasantness. They made a good team: Ga'vik killing swiftly and skilfully – Eikahe healing any injuries before Ga'vik even noticed them. They did not actively seek out conflicts, but defended themselves easily on the low-ranking missions they were assigned.
On occasion, Eikahe's mercy took a different form than Ga'vik's, as was the case with the little human. The troll sighed. Eikahe had once carried a panther cub around for weeks, bottle-feeding it some nasty druid concoction until it was old enough to nibble at bits of meat.
Look how well that had turned out. Lujin was a spoiled and wilful pet. Some days, Ga'vik felt certain that she considered him to be her pet.
When Ga'vik returned to Eikahe's tent, the tauren had given Litha some broth with a few small pieces of meat, which she was picking at slowly.
"She ate the first bit too quickly, and brought it up again," said Eikahe, beaming down at her, "but she insisted on trying again. The solid food will help her heal faster."
Ga'vik accepted his own dinner from the tauren – blackened basilisk. Again. They had brought some rations on the trip, but had been subsisting mainly on any animals brought down by the troll or the other hunters. He ate it quickly before moving to set up his own tent.
When he was done, he came back to stare at the human, who was still finishing her broth. Her tiny pink tongue darted out for the last few droplets. He found himself staring in fascination. Even Lujin, who had been so scornful of the filthy creature at first, seemed taken with her now. He often found her touching the human lightly with her delicate whiskers, which was as close as she came to showing affection. Lu lay in the sand at her feet even now.
Finally, Litha finished her meal. Eikahe took the bowl from her and Ga'vik cleared his throat, indicating the tent with a large, three-fingered hand. He had never gone to bed with her awake. He felt incredibly awkward.
"We change your bandage, and go to bed," he stated, in Orcish. The human only stared at him with wide, hazel-green eyes until he clicked his teeth and looked away. He ruffled his hair and said more forcefully, "Come."
She followed him slowly to the tent. She seemed determined to use the damaged leg, though it clearly pained her. Ga'vik resisted the urge to pick her up again, remembering his last attempt to restrain her. It had been entirely too enjoyable to feel her squirm against him. As she limped through the deep, unforgiving sand, he ground his teeth impatiently and scanned the campsite for anyone watching, though most of the orcs had already crept into their own tents.
When she managed to drag herself onto the bedroll at last, Ga'vik gathered the bandaging supplies and sat cross-legged at her side. They had come across very few humanoids in Tanaris, and bandages were in short supply. Initially Eikahe had been cleansing and re-using their meagre stock as best he could. When it became clear the wound was badly infected, the tauren had thrown out all of the used bandages and torn his own linen shirt into strips. Fortunately, the enormous shirt had provided a sufficient number of them. With the wound shrinking at last, they needed fewer each day.
Keeping his eyes averted from hers, Ga'vik pushed her thin dress slightly up her leg to uncover the whole of her thigh. The shapeless dress, still a dirty grey but even thinner since Eikahe's vigorous cleaning, barely covered her as it was. The original burn extended slightly above her hip, and Eikahe had been surprisingly clinical about shifting her as needed to bathe and bandage her, so Ga'vik had been able to admire her fully from several different angles. He did not feel so at ease now that she was looking at him.
He put a finger behind her knee to lift it slightly, and unwound the old bandage as quickly as he could, reciting Eikahe's instructions in his mind. A few drops of precious water were used to lightly clean the wound; then, sparingly, a fresh layer of herbal balm. Lastly, a snug wrap of fresh linen, the ends tucked neatly to hold it in place on her slim thigh.
He would not linger to trace the swirls of fresh pink scar tissue along the outside of her thigh, or to admire the smoother, unburned skin that ran up the inside. He would certainly not let his eyes trace upward to where her thighs met…
Actually, Eikahe had not given him those last instructions, but Ga'vik recited them to himself anyway. As he worked, he realized that the human was speaking to him. Her voice was hoarse from disuse, but grew smoother each time she spoke. Startled, he jerked the bandage more tightly than he intended, and her tiny scarred hand fluttered down to stay his own. When he stopped, she moved her hand away just as quickly. She did not speak again, but clutched a bit of the bedroll in her fist. Ga'vik cursed Eikahe for assigning this duty to him tonight. He would much rather have prepared the food.
Litha continued to stare at him as he carefully tucked the supplies away. After a moment's hesitation, he forced himself to go through his usual routine of unbuckling his simple leather armour, peeling off his chain mail shirt and the sweaty linen shirt underneath, and stretching in the sand beside her with a leather bag as a pillow. He had been leaving his leather trousers on since she'd been sharing his tent, but he felt as naked as a newborn now, with her eyes burning into him.
As casually as he could, he rolled onto his side to hide the effect her gaze was having on his trousers. Even after her soft breaths had slowed in sleep, Ga'vik lay awake for a long time, watching the shadows shrink and disappear against the sand outside. When Umog kicked the sole of his foot to wake him for the evening watch, Ga'vik felt as if he'd just closed his eyes.