The Chronicles of Phoenix Bloodheart I: Turning Red

Chapter XI: Of myths and monsters

Seven eases Phoenix gently onto the tramp's sleeping bag. The elf is still in a deep sleep. The night is not that cold, but he places a blanket over her anyway.

He begins to make a campfire outside the hut, turning to look at Phoenix every now and then. He wonders about her story and whether they will make a good team, and feels annoyed about what she must think of him.

After making the fire, Emile the tramp returns up the ladder with some fish, and passes it to Seven, his large hands struggling to handle the smooth creature.

Seven hangs the fish by the fire to cook and returns to sit beside Phoenix. The orc takes off his face mask, showing off his full beast-like features, wide cheekbones, large teeth and thick, messy brown hair with a short beard of stubble.

He stares into the fire for a few minutes and thinks back to how he got here, how he left his clan and what will become of him in this strange new world.

Seven looks down at Phoenix, and finds himself admiring her courage, her inner fire for standing up to someone while unarmed, an elf ten times deadlier than her. She may be troubled, but she has spirit, he thinks to himself, recalling her actions over the past day, her bravery and acceptance into the group in such a short space of time. Phoenix is a better person than him, he concludes, and feels hatred for himself and frustration over his past life rising mildly.

Phoenix stirs and opens her eyes; Seven suddenly turns his face away from her and back towards the fire, afraid of what she might think had she seen him looking at her.

Phoenix yawns and looks up at the monster. She holds her hands out to soak in the warmth of the campfire. She blinks and lays in silence for a few moments. She doesn't feel scared of him.

"Thank you," Phoenix eventually says.

"What for?" he asks.

"For carrying me home, for looking after me," she says, laying there for a while as she stretches again and regains her composure. "You're nothing like the stories say you are, that's for sure."

"What?" Seven booms, turning towards Phoenix, wondering how she's heard of his previous life.

"Your kind," she explains. "I used to work at an inn. There was all this talk of beings like you tearing down human settlements in the villages around Stormwind. I see now that can't be true."

He throws a nearby stone into the fire, and looks shamefully towards the flames.

"It is true," Seven says.

Phoenix swallows and sits up. He can sense her unease.

Seven doesn't want to go down this road again, explaining the actions of his kind. But he is a simple orc, and if he's to be working with this elf, decides she should know about his past and what makes him tick. He frowns.

"Why?" Phoenix eventually asks.

"Because we were fools," Seven says, slowly and painfully, continuing to stare at the flames as he thinks about all the other fires and burnt down villages he's witnessed.

"I am not of your world, elf," Seven continues, his deep gravelly voice cutting through the air, joining the crackling of the nearby fire. "I come from another. A place my fellow orcs and I once called home."

Seven curls one of his hands into a fist as he recounts his story.

"My kind are a proud people, we live for strength and honour," he explains. "We are stubborn. For years, our clans had kept themselves largely to themselves, focusing on our own traditions and ways of life.