Fandom: World of Warcraft
Pairing: Orcish OC & Human OC [Platonic/Familial]
Rating: Teen
Content: Malnutrition, Starvation, Illness, Injury
Date written: 11th March 2021
Summary: Durmor makes a little bit of progress with the injured shaman, but not without hitting a few bumps in the road, first.

Author's notes: This fanfic is on hiatus and is unfinished! Idk when I'll actually get to finishing it lmao.

A gentle routine was formed over the next couple of days.

Each day Kulshiir would tend to the shaman’s leg and offer more and more nutritious teas, soups and- eventually- solid foods. The shaman in question would stuff themselves full and lap up everything that was given to them, but only after an extensive amount of investigation of said food. Then, they would spend quality time with Durmor.

And by quality time, what Durmor actually meant was that he would lie on the floor in his spirit wolf form as he tried to make himself seem as friendly and harmless as possible, while Kulshiir occasionally peeked her head in through the hut’s curtains to check up on them.

His auntie had playfully teased him at first, accusing him of using his tactic to gain the smaller shaman’s trust as an excuse to take as many naps as he liked, but she trusted that he knew what he was doing. It was evident that Durmor was making some sort of progress, since the injured shaman had not attempted to bite either of them since the day they had awoken from unconsciousness. They still growled and bared their teeth at them, however, and they had not spoken a single word since waking up.

They’d also not come out of their wolf form, either.

‘Baby steps’ his aunt had said, ‘they will reveal themselves to you when they are ready.’

Durmor believed her. Even now, as he lay on the floor of the hut and wagged his tail at the other mysterious shaman, he felt like he’d made progress. He’d seen it out of the corner of his eye, but he had seen them wag their tail a couple of times. It lasted for perhaps only a couple of seconds, but it was enough to make Durmor feel like he was doing something right.

He decided that now was a good time to see if he could make active progress, and if the other did not like it, he would give them their space. He didn’t want to scare them or make them feel unsafe- that was the last thing that he wanted- but he did want to see if he could approach them without them growling or snapping at him.

Durmor got up from his usual place on the floor, and slowly walked over towards the bundled up shaman, ensuring that they could see him as he made his approach. At even the slightest sign of distress or discomfort, Durmor would stop where he was and cease trying to get any closer, but to the orc’s surprise, they didn’t seem displeased at all. They looked tired, if anything, and Durmor couldn’t blame them. They’d obviously been through a lot.

He stopped about five feet away from them, and slowly slid back down to a lying down position in front of them, his eyes looking onward softly, as if trying to convey that he was no threat and that he simply wanted to help. The smaller shaman lifted their head up cautiously, stretching their neck out to sniff at him from their position in the corner. They were obviously getting friendlier, but they were still nervous. Durmor lifted his head slightly to sniff back, like he had done a few days prior. He wagged his tail again as he dropped his head back to the floor, watching the other shaman as he rested there.

They put their head back down on the soft furs and closed their eyes. It was time for a nap, apparently. Durmor still considered it progress, though. He wasn't that far away from the shaman, and the thought that they felt comfortable and safe enough to have a nap when he was only five feet away said a lot.

Durmor thought for a moment that perhaps this would be easier than he first imagined, but he reeled in those thoughts as soon as they appeared in his mind. His aunt had said ‘baby steps’, not ‘steps befitting an ogre’. He needed to be careful about how quickly he made progress. If he made too much progress too quickly, it would be too easy for the other shaman to regress if he somehow made a mistake.

So Durmor slowly got up and moved away to a safer distance. Hopefully when the other shaman woke up, they would see it as a display of respect.

They were panting as they ran, their legs burning in exhaustion as their paws continued to take them forward. They could hear the men behind them, screaming and yelling as they pushed their horses to go faster. The sound of hoofs hitting the ground below as they galloped was the only thing keeping the shaman from stopping to breathe. They couldn’t stop now. If they did, the men would catch the shaman, and they would be dead for sure.

They kept running, and yelped in surprise as an arrow hit the ground beside them, just barely missing their leg by an inch.

The men were getting closer. The shaman kept running, their lungs burning and their muscles starting to cramp up, threatening to fail if they kept going.

An arrow struck their hip, and they howled in pain as they went down, falling to the ground as blood started to flow from the wound. They looked behind themself, cowering as they saw that the men and their horses were getting alarmingly close. The shaman watched as the horses kept coming, not stopping even as they were close enough to trample the shaman.

The shaman watched as the horses stomped their hooves on his body.

Durmor had woken up from his impromptu nap the moment that the still-healing shaman had started to stir in their sleep. He had kept his distance, not wanting to disturb the sleeping ghost wolf, but had realised a bit too late that whatever dream they were having was not a positive one.

He’d stood up, and walked a few paces towards the shaman, trying not to get too close, and observed. He didn’t know if he should wake them- he was worried that if he did that it would scare them, or make things worse, so he sat there and watched over the shaman instead.

When the shaman woke with a start, he’d tried to back off and give them some space, but he’d been slow, and he’d gotten a whole arsenal of sharp teeth biting into his front right leg, and some rather nasty growls as a result.

Durmor grunted as he stumbled back, transforming back into his orcish form and gripping onto the bite wound on his arm. The shaman had caught him off guard, and had been acting desperate and wild in an attempt to get him away from them, and thus Durmor’s blood was now dripping to the floor.

He looked over his wound. Despite all the blood, the wounds themselves were just small tooth holes in his skin. It was akin to being bitten by an orcish child who’d gotten a little bit too rough during a sparring match; he would be completely fine.

Durmor wasn’t so sure that the little shaman would be fine, though. They seemed scared and frantic, as if their body and mind was somewhere else, rather than in the present. He decided to ignore his wound for now, and he transformed back into the form of a spirit wolf. He laid down on the floor in an attempt to look less frightening, and after a few moments, the other shaman seemed to come back to the present.

Despite now being in the present, the shaman still looked uneasy. They were giving off the scent of fear, nervousness and anxiety, and it made him wonder what their nightmare had been about. He thought it was most likely about whatever- or whoever- had caused the small spirit wolf to become injured in the first place, but he probably wouldn’t know for a long while. Not until the other shaman started to fully trust him.

The little spirit wolf eventually laid their head back down on the furs, and curled up into a ball, hiding themselves from the world.

Durmor could hear a few whines of distress coming from the shaman, and he slowly got up and walked over to the little nest of furs they were hidden in, and gently plopped down his body next to it. He cautiously laid his head on the pillow near the other shaman’s head, hoping that they would see he was trying to comfort them.

Instead of the growls and snarls that he had expected from the shaman, what he got was the little spirit wolf uncurling from their little ball to poke their snout near his face. Durmor was immediately filled with the desire to protect, and he lay his head over the uninjured part of the smaller shaman’s body, using his head like a shield to protect them.

They relaxed beneath him, and soon he could hear and feel their breathing even out as they fell back to sleep.

Durmor couldn’t help himself as he too, fell asleep, content with the knowledge that he was making progress, and that the little shaman felt safe with him.

Kulshiir approached the hut, a basket full with different herbs and other cooking ingredients. She intended on cooking some more solid food for the injured shaman today, and she hoped that she could do so in their presence. Kulshiir had noticed that sometimes the little shaman would be cautious of the food that she presented to them, likely thinking that it could be poisoned. She hoped that cooking the meal in front of them would help to quell any anxieties they might be having about the food.

She pulled back the curtain to the hut, and her eyes widened at the sight before her.

Her dearest nephew had his head rested on top of the body of the much smaller spirit wolf. Both were slumbering peacefully, their breathing seeming to match as Durmor protected the smaller shaman with the bulk of his body.

Kulshiir couldn’t help but smile at them both. She was proud that her nephew was making so much progress in gaining the smaller shaman’s trust. She put the curtain back in its original position and decided she would cook elsewhere, to let both shaman rest.

She hoped when they both woke up, that they would be hungry. The stew she intended on cooking would be exquisite.