Obligatory disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, or I would have gotten more of the details right.
Ga'vik led them in a northwesterly direction, hugging the rim of the crater. They were headed toward Silithus. Another loa-forsaken desert crawling with bugs was the last place he wanted to go, really, but the options were limited. He had considered heading for Marshal's Stand, but the human might be recognized by the goblins there, even if they didn't yet know about the attack in Tanaris. What's more, Ga'vik himself was likely considered MIA by his Horde superiors at the moment, and was disinclined to let word reach them of his true, AWOL status.
The troll had been mulling over his options in that regard. He had doubts about the war, certainly, and he had made himself unpopular with his tribe, his comrades, and his chiefs, but he had no intention of becoming a deserter. Where would he go? What would he do?
As a hunter, he enjoyed long stretches of solitude. He could live off the land for weeks or months with no friendly contact beyond the non-judgemental companionship of his pet and his mount. Actually, Lujin clearly did judge him, but at least she couldn't put her derisive thoughts into words.
At some point, though, Ga'vik would want to head into town for supplies, a drink, for a conversation or a fuck. He could imagine being sentenced to death for his actions, but that thought was not as daunting as being exiled from all of civilization. If the Horde wouldn't have him, the Alliance certainly wouldn't welcome him with open arms.
No need to get ahead of himself, though. There would be plenty of time to consider his new, lonely life, once he was actually alone.
Resolutely, he forced himself to consider the human, and her future. If he were able to get her into Silithus, he could deposit her at Cenarion Hold. Eikahe had (or had had) friends among the druids, there. The troll could recall a few names. He wondered if they would be able to remove her collar, or if they would have qualms about freeing a slave. Eikahe had been a sentimental sort, even a romantic, in his celibate way. Other druids might not be so indulgent.
How had she come to be a slave, anyway? An attractive young female in slavery was little more than an unpaid prostitute, as far as Ga'vik understood. He scowled and clicked his teeth at the thought of goblins… ugh. Why would she put herself in that position, unless she were already a prostitute, perhaps with great debts? An addiction of some sort? Ga'vik rubbed his hair uncomfortably at the thought. Maybe she had sold herself to pay for the misdeeds of a loved one? That was a more charitable explanation, though it still didn't feel right, to him.
The troll considered what he knew of the girl. She was tough, that much was clear. She seemed unfazed by her own change in circumstances, his acquisition of her, or even by her own defenseless nudity. She could be stubborn and independent, and this morning had insisted on climbing onto Jozala unaided, though it had taken much scrambling and reopened a scab on her burnt leg. Her eyes held grief and grim acceptance, and spoke of untold horrors witnessed and withstood.
Ga'vik appreciated these aspects of her personality. Her grit would make it easier for him to get her to safety, and complete the implicit quest from Eikahe.
There was another side to her, though, that left him confused and uncomfortable. He had been on the receiving end of sexual advances before, but never from a human. Troll females were direct to the point of aggression. Ga'vik might have been less confounded if Litha had pursued the same tactic. Instead, she flirted endlessly: dancing and touching, fluttering her eyelashes, feigning innocence even as she provoked him, and generally projecting an air of sensual naiveté. It left the troll feeling both aroused and thoroughly disarmed, despite himself.
The conflicting signals screamed of a trap, to Ga'vik, though he wasn't sure if it was intentionally set by the human, or if he was misreading her. He considered himself experienced with females, but had always known sex as a simple give-and-take: it was desired by both sides (with or without the added tenderness of romantic love), agreed upon after a brief negotiation (verbal or nonverbal), and undertaken with enthusiasm. He was not sure if the human desired him, or merely wanted him to desire her.
The troll had decided that either Litha did not know what she desired, or that human sexuality was impossibly complex. Probably both.
Ga'vik cast a glance at the human from the corner of his eye. She was riding Jo as he walked, sitting straight in the rough leather saddle he had fashioned. She was gazing around with wide eyes, their lush mixed gold-green-brown flecks even brighter than the foliage around them. She had been giving a running commentary in her own tongue, as far as he could tell. He had not acknowledged her Common babbling, but had felt a little slighted when she had switched her attention to Lujin and Jozala.
The human seemed taken with the scenery, and Ga'vik could not blame her. The occasional vicious reptile or bloodpetal aside, he felt much more at home in the wet, green crater than he ever felt in the desert. The density of life provided both shelter and sustenance for a hunter. He kept the pace steady but not rushed as they traveled. He and Lujin hunted leisurely, collecting meat, skins, and anything else they found.
He had fled the camp site in Tanaris with little more than his weapons and the clothes on his back, and the human had not even had that much. By the time they reached Silithus, Ga'vik would have plenty of skins, handmade leather goods, and other trinkets to sell. Once he had sent the human safely on her way, he could replace most of the things he had lost.
Other than Eikahe, of course. That loss could not be replaced. It would heal, but would leave a scar.
"By your scars, the loas will know you," Ga'vik murmured to himself, brushing his fingers over the stippled bear shape on his forearm. He glanced again at the human, eyeing the mottled pink swirls of her left thigh, visible through the lacing of her leather pants.
He did not really believe in the loas, of course - another of his failings as a troll. As a child he had expressed his doubts to his older brother, who had advised him to keep them to himself, though he had not seemed as perturbed as he would later, when Ga'vik admitted to his political beliefs.
You worry things with your mind like a pup with a bone, until a thing that was smooth and solid is splintered and broken, his brother had said, and then you cut yourself with the shards. Ga'vik knew it was a warning, but could not help but respond, How else to reach the marrow?
Still, he had taken some of the religious teachings to heart. Scars were a source of pride among his people: hard-won, even more so than among the Orcs and the other slow-healers.
Litha's scars had been hard-won as well. Ga'vik had watched in awe as her body had fought for every inch of thin, newly-formed skin.
If the loas were out there, they would surely be impressed.
Ga'vik had begun looking forward to the evenings.
In the mornings, he would would wake in the dim predawn light, well before the human. She would not open her eyes until the sun was up, and would remain sullen and groggy for hours. After a little hunting or fishing, Ga'vik would would ply the female with a bit of food and weak tea. Eventually, she would rise from her sleeping skin, yawning and tousled, and grudgingly allow him to boost her onto the raptor, or follow him on foot for a ways, if the terrain was not too rough.
In the evenings, Ga'vik felt tired and sluggish. The human, though, would be perky and attentive. She had taken to cooking their evening meals, and never seemed to burn anything. She would chatter endlessly in her smooth, lyrical way, occasionally including an Orcish word he recognized.
"Good, yes, Ga'vik?" she would ask, holding out a second helping of baked salmon. Or, "Water, Ga'vik?" while offering the water skin. It still unnerved him when she spoke his name, and she seemed to use it at every opportunity. "Stop, Ga'vik." "Thank you, Ga'vik." "Goodnight, Ga'vik." He thought perhaps she was teasing him, because he was unable to pronounce her name.
She would often help with Jozala, tossing down the saddle and pile of collected skins before scrubbing the raptor's scales with a handful of moss. Jo would chirrup and nuzzle at the human as Ga'vik rested his feet by the fire. The panther, too, was on the receiving end of coddling and petting from the human in the evenings. Lujin tolerated it with surprising self-restraint.
Often, as they were settling down for the evening, Litha would hum or sing the song he'd taught her. It made him smile every time, which he was sure was encouraging her, though he felt a queer sense of guilt as well. "Raca and the Boar" was a bawdy drinking ballad about a huntress and her pet. He had been surprised with how quickly she'd picked up the tune, and even though she stumbled a bit over the unfamiliar words, they were clear enough in all their ribald glory.
"Raca was a youngling when she tamed him, and he, a piglet at the teat," the human would croon as she was grooming Jo, "Raca was a woman when she took him, and he, a boar in heat."
One warm, misty afternoon as Ga'vik fished in a small stream, she'd sat beside him, dangling her toes in the burbling water and plucking the petals off a flower. The sight of her wholesome expression, lashes brushing her rosy, freckled-smattered cheeks as she sang, "Long and hard were his tusks, spearing his prey for Raca. Long and hard was his cock, spearing Raca as his prey," had Ga'vik heaving with suppressed laughter.
Finally, as Litha reached the part of the song where Raca has piglets, Ga'vik was unable to contain himself.
"Stop," he begged in Orcish, shaking his head wildly and choking with laughter. She stopped immediately, and looked up at him, wide-eyed, as he gasped for breath.
"Stop, I be teachin' you som'ting else, girl," he got out at last.
He looked down at her dainty, upturned face, and his laughter died as abruptly as it had started. Suddenly, he could think of nothing but love songs and the soft, full curve of her lower lip. It was no longer cracked and raw as it had been in the desert, but silky smooth and perfect. Ga'vik's tri-fingered hand itched to reach out and feel the texture of it.
"Stop," he said again, suddenly breathless for a different reason. He felt dizzy as the blood left his brain for destinations South. He was not sure if he was ordering his own shameless body to stop responding to her, or asking her to stop… doing what? Looking at him? Swallowing hard, he dropped into a crouch to hide the evidence of his sudden arousal.
"Stop," she repeated innocently, in Zandali, and Ga'vik realized he must of changed languages in his distraction.
After a moment's hesitation, he replied in Orcish, "Stop," then again in Zandali, "Stop."
The human's eyes widened further in understanding, and she repeated the word more slowly, watching him nod.
"Yeah," he said in his rough Orcish, then in Zandali, "Yes." She echoed him, and they followed the same pattern as they had with the song. He would repeat the word back until he was satisfied with her pronunciation, then move on to a new word. She was quick to learn, and gave the Zandali words an exotic sing-song lilt.
As Ga'vik felt his blood cooling and his brain clearing, he realized what he was doing. Was he really going to teach Zandali to a human? As if freeing a goblin slave wasn't enough; surely this was treason. The troll rephrased his thoughts even as they came to him. Really, he hadn't exactly freed her, just… recovered her from the burnt caravan, and hadn't yet returned her. Plus, she already knew some Orcish, through no fault of his own.
At least when she was distracted, she was not flirting with him. That decided it, then. He worked steadily through the Orcish terms he had heard her use, then translated when she began to supply her own. She knew some colours, the numbers one through twelve (except for eight, which she stumbled over, but that was an easy fix), and some simple nouns: dwelling, male, female, war.
When they had exhausted her small Orcish vocabulary, she began eagerly pointing to things around them. "Rock," he pronounced dutifully, "Ground… no, dirt. Water. Grass. Flower. Tree," then, "Eye. Tusk. Ear. Nose. Hand."
The rapid-fire vocabulary lesson continued through the day, though Ga'vik was certain she could not absorb so much, so quickly. She would, at times, go back over words he had already taught her, and he allowed her to set the pace, repeating words patiently back to her when she stumbled.
"Boar," she blurted suddenly in Zandali, after a brief silence. He glanced down at her in surprise. They were picking their way slowly through the tar pits, and though Ga'vik had spotted several tar beasts, he knew there were no boars within sight.
"Boar," she said insistently, and sang, "Raca and the boar, Raca and the boar, they fought back-to-back, they fucked tusk-to-tusk, did Raca and the boar."
Ga'vik stopped in his tracks and ran a hand through his hair, clicking his teeth. After a moment's indecision, during which he looked desperately to Lujin for a distraction (she merely sat and began to groom her hindquarters, refusing to meet his gaze), he dropped into a crouch and drew his dagger. He sketched a rough boar outline in the damp soil.
The human stared at it so long, her normally smooth brow drawn into furrows of concentration, that Ga'vik made an oinking sound just to break the silence. Litha laughed.
"Boar," she repeated, and oinked back at him. He nodded, smiling, and started to rise.
"Fucked," she asked.
Ga'vik clicked his teeth again and had to look away. He settled back into a crouch and sighed, staring at the picture of the boar he had made. Surely she hadn't learned enough Zandali already to suss out the theme of the song… had she? The troll ruffled his hair again.
"Raca," he stated at last, and started to draw a troll figure next to the boar.
She cut him off. "Female," she said easily, and dropped to crouch in front of him. She used the tip of her tiny pink finger to trace feminine curves on the shape he had started. "Fucked?" she pointed to the boar.
Ga'vik lifted his face to hers. She was squatting less deeply than he, so her green eyes were almost level with his tusks. They were partially hidden behind her long, thick lashes, but the troll could see now that they sparked with mischief. She was pursing her pink lips, and her freckled cheeks were tight with suppressed laughter.
She already knew what the word meant, or at least suspected, and she was teasing him.
Scowling in a way that had caused several of his enemies to soil themselves in battle, Ga'vik deliberately held up one hand between them, touching the finger-tips together to form an open slit, then brought his skinning knife up and thrust it into the slit.
Litha giggled at his rude gesture and at his discomfiture, and bending forward, redrew the female troll figure and the boar in a very compromising position.
"The boar fucked Raca," she said in her sing-song way.
"Yes, the boar fucked Raca; they were fucking; to fuck: he fucks, she fucks, everyone fucks." Ga'vik grunted. He was not sure if this episode meant he was an excellent teacher, or a terrible one. He sheathed his skinning knife and straightened.
The human looked up at him impishly, crouched beside her drawing. She had continued to braid her hair to either side of her face, with increasing success as the burnt clumps grew in and smoothed out. She had filled out a bit more since they'd been in Un'Goro; her cheekbones were high and her eyes were large and wide-set, but she no longer had the sharp, gaunt look of a famine victim. The leather vest he had given her did nothing to hide the soft curves of her small breasts, and only emphasized the flat, narrow plane of her belly and the feminine flare of her hips.
Ga'vik thought she looked lovelier every day, and her increasingly bold behaviour was even more dangerous.
"Come," he said in Zandali, the heat in his gut making him feel reckless, "I've got to get rid of you before I'm truly fucked."