Work Text:
“Where are we going?” Zekhan asks.
Saurfang grunts. “East.”
“No, I mean, where's the destination?”
“East .”
“You don't know, do you?”
“If one of us is captured, the less you know, the better.”
“Seems like you know about as much as I do.”
“Would you be quiet?” Saurfang hisses. “We are in enemy territory!”
“Right,” Zekhan says, nodding.
“So,” Zekhan says, after only a short moment of silence. “You call those little teeth tusks, too?”
Saurfang growls, barely restrains himself from kicking the ground in frustration. He's trying not to leave a trail. “Do you not remember we're supposed to be sneaking ?
“Do I look like a rogue to you?” Zekhan laughs. “Besides, you're not doing so great yourself. If I weren't out of juice I could call a storm to erase our tracks, but as it is, you are very easy to follow.”
Saurfang stops, then, making Zekhan run into him from behind. “You're out?” He had thought Zekhan would be able to defend himself, hadn't even bothered to give him a weapon.
“What, you think the Alliance just lets their prisoners cast freely? We'd have been gone before they could even lock the doors! No, they gave me some sort of potion to drain me. I'll be fine once it works its way out of my system.”
“I thought trolls were supposed to be able to deal with that sort of thing better than anyone else.”
“You want to cut off my hand, that's fine. I'll have another in a few days. A couple weeks for an arm. But this isn't a poison, it has to run it's natural course.”
“Please don't cut off your hand,” Saurfang grumbles, in concession.
“I've only lost a finger, once,” Zekhan says, smiling and back to his one-sided conversation. “I cut it off myself to see what it felt like when it would regrow.”
“What did you do with the cut one?”
“I ate it.”
Saurfang stops again, looking back in horror, and Zekhan bursts out into laughter.
“The look on your face!” He shrieks. “Come on, man. You need to lighten up!”
“We're fugitives ,” he says, continuing on.
“No need to be sad fugitives.”
Thunder rumbles above them and Saurfang's ears twitch, angling back at Zekhan. “That you?”
“Not me.”
“This is bad.”
“Bad? You said we're fugitives in enemy territory, no Horde, no allies, and we don't even know where we're going. I thought it couldn't get any worse.”
Zekhan shuts his mouth as rain begins to pour down around them.
Saurfang, finally, laughs.