Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

The Price of Gratitude	By : Mayamahal Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 6057 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Blizzard or World of Warcraft. I make no profit or money for writing this.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
She got an answer to her first question not long later. Tossing the driftwood that had washed on to her beach to the grass to dry out as firewood later, she realized what she thought had been a bit of strangely colored debris floating in the water turned out instead to be a large dead animal. Specifically, a dead kodo.

Maia blinked. A kodo? Here?

And then she saw another kodo. This one also drowned, floating, war harness glinting, freshly polished. This one differed, however, as his rider was still attached to him. Also dead.

She climbed up the ladder perched at the side of her house, and then hoisted herself on to a limb of one tree. Climbing up and up, each new bit of height made her eyes grow wide, and then wider, and wider, until she almost fell, missing a branch. Clutching the bark, mouth agape, she stared out to sea.

Ships, Orc ships, were coming north, on fire, fleeing quickly. Some ships were sinking, falling apart as they went, large red sails billowing in the reckless wind... a wind, until now, that hadn't been noticed by Maia.

Even the wind has changed direction.

Still some distance away from her shoreline, their angle suggested an effort to make landfall further up the coast. She flinched as one ship caught fire suddenly, burst into flames, and then exploded. Half of it blew to pieces, the other half sank quickly. She could hear the shouts of alarm and cries of panic, watched horrified as burning bodies hit the water, only to move no more.

Arms clenched hard as she clung to her tree, Maia looked on knowing she could do nothing.

The bodies began to wash ashore that night. Maia spent the whole next day building a grate at the mouth of her cove, to keep more from washing up next to her house.

Then, garbed from head to toe in mage-armor, she mounted up Sun-Iron, and took her drake for a flight.

Her suspiscions were affirmed; the Horde vessels had made landfall about a mile north, making camp to regroup and assess their wounded. As they did not seem interested in exploring or invading (at least at the moment), she let them be.

Satisfied, she turned Sun-Iron back towards their home. She would inform her Guild leader of the occurence, should he prove interested. Otherwise, the war was still no place for her.

They landed on the cliffs behind the house, the proto-drake clutching at the soft rock and earth, snarling as she raked downward until Maia could hop off and onto the roof. Her mind was already on the letter she would write, and she was thus distracted until she noticed that her grate had been obliterated.

Soon enough, she saw why: something had crashed into it. And that something was bleeding into her grass.

It was a large bird, raven-black with dyed feathers of blue and red and yellow. Beads glittered on its legs and head, decorations that proclaimed the owner's mark. It was flopping weakly on the ground, shrieking its pain and desperation; the woman could see its wing was broken, a jagged bit of timber peeking through his shoulder.

Maia winced and scurried down the ladder, grabbing rope and a large canvas-cloth as she went. Approaching the bird, she realized it was actually an eagle, dyed black-blue to blend into the night. This wasn't just a pet, this was a hunter's pet.

She didn't think; she threw the cloth over the thrashing creature and crooned at it.

"Ssaa..." she murmured, laying a hand on the quivering tarp. "Ssaa... let me help you." The movement beneath it stilled. "I promise," she continued, knotting the rope to slip around the covered form. "I know I am a human, but I mean no harm."

She knew what it meant to help a member of the opposing faction, even if it was simply a minion and not an actual sentient soldier. But then, she'd maintained her neutrality for so long, it was hard to remember which side she was really on.

My side, she reminded herself. I'm not going to let this creature suffer for the beliefs of his owner. She lifted her head to chirp at Sun-Iron, who oblidgingly landed, carefully, next to the cloth-covered animal.

"Gently," she told her. "I can't help him here, there's not enough room. Take him to the otherside of the cove-wall." That way, she thought, he won't inadvertently destroy anything or feel completely vulnerable.

Sun-Iron whrrufed at her, and careful did as she was told. Maia scrambled over the wall just as the drake dropped her burden carefully on the ground, staying put just long enough to catch the smoked piece of salmon her owner tossed her, before sweeping her wings downward, climbing the air to her usual perch atop the cliffs.

Armed with herbs and bandages, Maia assessed the damage of her accidental guest. It appeared that he had been injured before he crashed. That was a bit of a relief; she'd been worried her grate had been the cause of all this. No, the timber impaling the poor creature's wing was from a ship, perhaps the one she saw exploding into splinters a hundred yards from her window.

The bird remained still, much to her surprise, even when she yanked the large stake through his wing. If a bird had teeth, she was sure he was gritting them, but he was wise enough to remain silent. The shudder that rippled through him made her wince, though; he was doing everything he could to stay still.

"That's not usual," she murmured to him. "I was certain I'd have to drug you to let me help, Blackbird." The raptor snorted softly, shifting against the grass. She raised an eyebrow. He understood Common. Interesting. That means he's probably a spy. Or, rather, a spy's spy. She sighed. Too late now.

"Well, I don't know your real name," she chuckled at him. "So it's Blackbird until you tell me otherwise."

She managed to get the bleeding to stop and bind the wounds and wing as best she could. He stood carefully on shaking legs, reminding her of her own trauma after the world went black the day before. He made his way away from the water to the corner of cliff where her wall met the stone. Sheltered thusly, he settled down and tucked himself against the rock, sighing as he did so.

She dragged a bit of dead tree in front of his hiding place, just enough to keep him out of sight of... well, anything. It'd do no good to bandage him up just to have him eaten by some hungry passerby. He seemed to sense her meaning, and bowed his head in gratitude. Or, what she thought was gratitude. Can birds be grateful...? Smiling at him, she placed a small catch of smoked fish by his side.

Yes, definitely. The bird was grateful, and she could see by his expression that he was even surprised. He set about gobbling the meal she provided, and while he did so she took the chance to get a really good look at him.

The jewelry on him was subtle, the decorations made with love and practicality. Unable to help herself, she drew a slow hand along the strand of beads around his throat, and the other that dangled just under his beak. She was rewarded with a soft chrrurr from him, and she couldn't help but smile.

"Will you be all right here on your own?" she asked quietly. She'd left him plenty of food, but she knew the best thing for such injuries was rest and the time to do so. He chirped at her again, and she nodded, hoisting herself over the wall to assess her home.

The grate was an easy fix, though she had to drag a few bodies back out to sea before she replaced it. The turf that had been dug up from the struggling raptor was pointless to fix; she opted instead to plant more herbs there.

It's just as well, she thought. I'd rather plant the stuff that keeps the vermin away.

Raising her hands to her brow, she looked outward at the setting sun. It was already getting late, and while she loved to dig in the dirt, it would have to wait.

"Damn," she muttered. She'd forgotten to write her letter to Warren. She rolled her eyes and headed back up to her house. It wasn't that pressing that she couldn't wait until tomorrow to do that too, she decided.

The spot she'd chosen for her home had another advantage, one she didn't brag about; beyond the bedroom that had been dug out on the top floor was a hot spring, and she never had to build that particular room. It had been a hollow area she had stumbled upon, the rock crumbling so quickly she had feared a cave in. Instead, she had been blessed with her own natural bathing chamber.

The hotspring bubbled in a large pool, deep enough that it could have held a Tauren comfortably, and wide enough to hold three of them. She had carved out benches and shelves, the former for sitting and bathing without submersion, and the latter to hold ladles, sponges, and buckets to bathe with. Through magic and a little hard work, she had managed to divert a normal spring into this same room, though the pool it fed into was smaller and much shallower.

Pulling off her clothing as she went, she stalked into this precious natural cave, grabbing a plush towel and a dish of soap on her way. She didn't quite jump into the hot spring, but she came close. Scrubbing at the dirt and blood on her skin and in her hair, she wondered what she would do with her erstwhile patient.

Let him go, she thought. Of course. But she couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was something else she ought to do.

Still musing about this after her bath, she considered her options as she dressed herself for bed and toweled off her hair.

It's not like he can pay me, she wondered. Or swear secrecy as to my hide-away. She sighed. Gods, I'm exhausted, she thought as she slid under the covers of her bed. I'll figure it all out tomorrow.

She extinguished the fire in her hearth with a thought, and closed her eyes in the comforting darkness.
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Price of Gratitude