The wind blew slightly through eastern Frostfire Ridge that evening, picking up particles of snow and dust as it moved. Surreal white wisps flowed over the hills, slowly shifting the heavy cover like dunes in a desert of sand. It wasn't particularly cold that night by the standards of the local Frostwolf clan, though for adventurers from Azeroth the night air nipped at exposed fingers and noses.

Two large cloaked figures made their way down a well-beaten path over the rolling hills in the far east. They were wrapped in heavy furs from head to toe, obviously not locals. They were both carrying opposite ends of a rather thick piece of lumber, moving slowly and carefully as they sought stable footing within the ankle-high blanket of snow. Shining under the moonlight were the compound ropes tied around the lumber, weaved from various different types of material. A plump blue boar was hanging by its legs underneath the lumber. It's massive body swayed back and forth as the two travelers marched, though the ropes held tight. Their faces were both wrapped to protect their lungs and sinuses from the bitingly cold air. Not a sound was heard aside from their boots shifting across the snow.

The boar's corpse left a trail of dark red blood on the pure white ice behind them. In theory, this could attract various predators and scavengers to contest the kill. There was no worry tonight, though. The two travelers were fortunate enough to have happened upon a stray boar which had wandered far too close to the settlement; any other animal looking to steal a kill would have had to contend with the other settlement-dwellers as well. Keeping a steady pace, the two wrapped, hooded figures neared the sentry post which marked the entrance of the bustling, densely populated frontier town which served as the temporary home for so many serving in the campaign against the Iron Horde. They nodded as a group of three sentries waved them through, slowing down a bit as they ascended a steep incline which lead to the busy, uneven spaces between the makeshift buildings.

The sun had set just over an hour ago and many of the settlement's denizens were finally off duty from their daily toil. The conveniently flat, spacious ledge originally served only as a flight path for Horde soldiers during the Battle of Thunder Pass. As reinforcements were ordered to ward off attacks from the Iron Siege Works, life was breathed into the fledgling settlement. Neither the primary Horde government on Azeroth nor the temporary command center on Draenor were prepared to provide the amount of services necessary for stationing troops in such a forlorn place, and the answer - pushed mainly by goblin cartel traders - was the liberal issuance of building contracts and grant money to whoever was willing to set up shop. Civilians quickly outnumbered the actual soldiers, and the town's population swelled so quickly that Horde officials had not yet even decided on an official name for the settlement. "Thunder Pass" was popular though technically incorrect as the actual Thunder Pass was a literal mountain pass. Regardless, the name was far more common than the suggested "Thunder Watch," "Mountain Watch" or "Thunder Mountain." Whatever one called it, the town was certainly a paradise compared to many of the other outposts dotting Frostfire's harsh landscape. About half a dozen buildings even had running water and toilets with cisterns.

The two hooded figures maneuvered between the colorful characters filling the streets. Everyone was happy to move out of the way and make things easy for the load-bearers, though few seemed to really be paying attention. Reaching a narrow alleyway, they turned sideways and strained while grasping the ends of the piece of lumber with both hands each. There was a space behind the two buildings large enough for the smaller figure out front to continue walking straight out until his larger companion was able to push himself entirely out of the alleyway. Directly opposite both buildings was a sheer, impossible straight wall of rock. The town was wedged right up against the mountains, protecting it on two sides. The larger figure walked at an angle to his stationary friend's right-hand side, pivoting their load parallel with the mountains on the right and the buildings on the left. They picked up the pace a bit, trotting four narrow alleyways down to a large, two-storey building with a large back door hanging open.

A feminine orc figure stood similarly wrapped in furs, motioning the two load bearers inside. They carried the piece of lumber and the blue boar in and she slid the double doors closed behind them.

Pulling off her head wrapping, she said: "You two really outdid yourselves this time. The rest of the boys will be happy to have some more work."

"And in record time," huffed the smaller figure as he removed his own head wrapping. The orc's long black hair fell over his shoulders as he uncovered his head. Even when wrapped up head-to-toe, he didn't enjoy tying his hair back in a knot or ponytail. A strand or two came out as he tucked his headwrap into his thick leather belt. "This beast practically fell into our laps the first quarter of an hour we were out there."

The female, her hair grey from age though her features no less beautiful by the standards of her people, hurried over to a countertop framed by a low ceiling. From the large sliding doors at the back of the building, an observer could see straight over the countertop across to the far wall on the opposite side of the building. The three were in a large room empty except for the cutlery in a bucket and the stains of animal blood on the floor. The floors and walls were all made of wooden planks, the carpentry work surprisingly professional given how quickly the building had been erected. She banged her fist excitedly on the countertop. "Guys! We got work!"

A second, smaller door was next to the countertop which formed a sort of interior window. A third door with the word "kitchen" inscribed on it was situated on the right-hand side when entering from the sliding back doors. There was shuffling in the next room as three distinct pairs of footsteps were heard. The larger one of the hooded figures had finally removed his own headwrap and was pulling the bucket of cutlery over near the boar carcass. His fiery red mane had been tied back unlike his friend's black hair. The troll was slouching though his head was still near the ceiling. His above average height was still less noticeable than the fact that both of his tusks were clipped short, an extremely rare sight among his kind.

His orcish friend had already begun untying the boars feet as the smaller door next to the countertop burst open and two orc peons along with an undersized tauren walked in. They thanked the three fur-wrapped figures and lowered themselves to the floor, immediately getting to work skinning and preparing the animal. Once they were huddled around on the floor, the older woman led her two companions through the same door and into the lounge area of what had become a respected inn and restaurant. The lounge was rectangular except for the corner which was a straight walk from the door they had entered, which was diagonally cut to allow for a set of double doors forming the entrance. A set of four tables with four chairs each were organized geometrically in the center of the lounge. Were one of the peons to stick his head over the countertop and look to his right, he would see the staircase leading up, the rubbish bin in the corner and the door to the broom closet under the stairs.

"This is a big one, Ushka," the male remarked to the female. "We should be able to make the meat on this one last for, like, a week at least."

Her reply was quick. "It all depends on the customers," she said with a wry smile. "Business is difficult to predict what with all the troop rotations and random arrivals at the flight path."

"Toruk!" A distinct Darkspear accent was heard from the staircase as a blue-haired troll woman bounced down the stairs. "Whadya find tonight, mon? You catch us a rylak or somethin special like dat?"

The orc blushed slightly at the sight of her. Her hair was styled into a mohawk similar to the large male's, though with some braids spilling down over her back as well. She was wrapped up in much softer looking, stylishly cut furs along with boots custom made for the two large toes on each foot. She only stopped on the stairs for a moment to tug at one of her braids coyly before descending and throwing her arms around him as though noone else was there.

"Oh, nothing so unique this time but it was definitely a good catch." The orc's rugged, shaven face was all that was visible above the high neck of his upper garment. The two were relatively young and smirked at each other the way two teenagers in love for the first time would.

Their two older companions stood awkwardly for a moment until Ushka broke the silence. "I think the boys in the back can handle it from here. And it seems you're already dressed, Javilla," she said looking at the blue-haired female. "Why don't you give Toruk a few minutes to freshen up and you two lovebirds can go hit the tavern. No reason for you to spend your evening in our boring old place here."

Javilla pouted playfully. "Ushka, I wish ya would be commin out wit us sometimes, yer schedule be so random dat it seems ya never get out enough."

"Don't worry about little old me, seeing our place here do good business is most of what I need. You kids go have fun, get out of here. And if you see Jiranta tell her to get back here, it's too late for her to be out."

"Ushka, we won't worry about you, and you don't worry about Jiranta! We'll keep an eye out for her," Toruk said as he led Javilla up the stairs by the hand. "Our new family here takes care of its own!"

Ushka watched them until they were out of view and heard their footsteps followed by the door to their room opening and shutting. The humble little inn was a great project she had overseen from beginning to end, but damned if the sounds from upstairs didn't carry so well. She looked around for a moment realizing she was alone. That big lunk had somehow disappeared to his room again without saying anything.

Khujand sat before a mirror as he untied his hair and brushed it up a bit. He pulled out a wooden bowl of hair cream, looking at it for a moment before putting it back on his dresser. He didn't plan on going anywhere that night and even if he did, there was no occasion to prepare for. He sat back on his stool and took a look around his room for a moment. The only keys were with him or Ushka, but his years on the inside had made him paranoid about theft. The wall with the door was thin and he could hear every footstep in the hallways outside. His bed was directly opposite the door, still a mess as he had left it. The window to the left of the bed was unopened and the snow on the windowsill indicated that noone had tired to enter. Swiveling to his left again, the dresser and mirror set were in the same exact spot they had been in the afternoon, down to the exact same amount of distance between the back legs of the dresser and the wall. To the left of the dresser was a large chest, still locked with the same key as the door. He couldn't recall if he had already performed a theft-check a minute ago or if he had merely planned to.

He stared into the mirror for a moment, fingering the knubs which had once been long, proud tusks. He was no longer as self-conscious about it and had learned to ignore the comments of troll women he occasionally heard behind his back. Still, he couldn't help but to pause and take a look at the sawed-off tips every time he looked in the mirror. Lingering for just a few seconds, he stood up mechanically and changed into a lighter set of furs. He could feel the hunger growing and there had to be some left over food from the other night.

Downstairs, he ate his meal of snow hare strips, boiled pieces of carrot and some kind of beans in silence. The din of the metal fork against the plate was still audible even with the busy work of preparing the boar he and Toruk had caught in the back room. He wasn't the only one slinking around that night, as he didn't even notice Ushka sitting next to him.

"Khujand!" He suddenly realized he wasn't alone.

"Howya doin, girl," he stated more than asked.

"Stop calling me girl Khujand, for crying out loud I'm almost twice your age," she said exasperatedly.

"Okey dokey, boss." He was about to continue eating before he realized that he might have been rude. Or not. He wasn't sure. His social skills had only recently begun regenerating, and at a far lower rate than he had expected. "How's ya day been?"

Ushka ignored his question entirely. "Khujand, I want you to go to the tavern tonight. Finish eating, put a hat on or something and get out of here."

He stopped chewing and stared at her blankly, replaying her statement in his head. "You...you tellin me I gotta leave? I...what be wrong?"

"No, not LEAVE leave. Don't be so sensitive. You've only been here a week and have been a standup worker and tenant, why would anyone ask you to leave?" She was leaning toward him now, her eyebrows tense with a combination of sympathy and frustration. "I want you to go out tonight and try to...you know, socialize. Like Toruk and Javilla do. You..."

She sighed as she looked off to the side for a moment, thinking hard about something. Khujand was motionless, showing no reaction though he already knew what she was going to say.

"You're a good man, and a welcome new addition to the little town here, and to our inn. So I'm telling you as your friend, not as your employer...I'm concerned about you, and Toruk and Javilla have made some comments. It's obvious that you've spent some time away from people. I understand that. Whatever it was, you need to move on from it and learn to be around people again. You've sat here every night of the week eating your dinner alone and then disappearing upstairs way too early. That can't be healthy. If you want to get used to whatever it is about society you aren't used to, then you need to get out of here sometimes."

Khujand had been listening attentively, though he stared at the tabletop the whole time. He tilted his neck up to look Ushka in the eye and murmered "Thank ya, boss."

Ushka watched him as he put his empty plate along with the silverware on the counter and lurched upstairs. She furrowed her brow the way a concerned and slightly disappointed mother might at her son. Just a minute later, he came back downstairs with a light brown fur cap with low-hanging flaps along the sides to provide cover for those races possessing longer ears.

"And Khujand," Ushka remembered while holding up her index finger. "If you see our new cook Jiranta, please send her back here. She's late."

He closed his eyes for a moment and turned his head to one side, trying to put the name with a face. "Boss, what she look like? I jus passed her once or twice in da hall since she arrived. I ain't sure if I'd recognize her."

Ushka moved her head back with a surprised look. "Really? Well...her hair is pink and she's a bit thin. Just look for the loud-mouthed troll girl who thinks she knows everything, and give her a kick in the behind for me when you send her back."

Khujand removed a hand from his coat pocket only to briefly adjust his fur cap. The cold stung his ears, though he was more concerned with protecting the back of his neck. The town's pathways were unpaved; it was unnecessary given that the rocky ledge it was built on was so flat. There were small puddles of wet, dirty snow here and there though for the most part the main walkways were well swept. Within a few minutes he was at the doorstep of the tavern, bright lights from the windows illuminating the street out front. The braver bar patrons had wrapped scarves around their necks and faces and were sitting on scattered chairs on the porch of the establishment.

The cacophony of laughter, loud conversations and drunken singing caused him to hesitate before walking in. Alcohol caused him to feel depressed and nauseous and he didn't want to seem like some sort of a prude. A part of him wanted to just turn around and go back to the inn.

You come from a people who are supposed to be outgoing, he thought to himself. You met Toruk within an hour of the Horde frigate from Tanaan Jungle shipwrecking itself here in Frostfire. You can meet other people, too. He repeated it to himself like a mantra in his head, urging himself through the door.

As he entered the town tavern for the first time, he swept across the main room with his gaze. It was crowded, though there were still extra chairs scattered -

"Watch it." A gaggle of goblins nudged by behind him as he realized he was blocking the door with his oversized self.

Stepping sideways away from the door, Khujand kept his back to the wall while surveying the patrons. Every table seemed lively, with members of every Horde race mingling with one another. He distinctly heard several languages other than orcish and was even surprised to see one of the arakkoa birdmen enjoying a game of cards with some of the goblins.

Across from the door to his right, he saw a long, rectangular table with half a dozen people seated around two tauren arm wrestling. There were empty seats and enough people that the group didn't seem to intimate.

*There* was something he could do. Half a decade of hard labor had left Khujand looking more like a bulky forest troll berzerker than the typical lanky jungle troll considered the norm for the Darkspear. He felt giddy at the thought of possibly impressing a group of happy looking strangers.

Just after a jolly looking tauren with dark chocolate brown fur had emerged victorious on the other side of the table - though before anyone had the time to notice the newcomer that had swept over to their table - Khujand was seated at a chair diagonally across from him. Not knowing a socially appropriate way to talk to strangers, he cleared his throat loudly and laid his arm on the table.

The eyes of most of the group glanced curiously at the outsider who was now sitting among them in a seat which had been empty a second ago. Khujand felt a tingle of anxiety as he began to wonder if he was acting weird.

Much to his relief, the jolly tauren's smile got even wider as he bellowed, "A challenger awaits!" The rest of the table laughed along with him, though it didn't feel like the mocking sort of laughter. The loser from the previous round graciously slid his table to the side to allow Khujand to sit face-to-face with the victor.

"I'm Kuma," the victor rolled off his tongue as though the two had known each other for years, "and this is Thunderhorn, Snark, Patina, Simar Anderson, and my sister Zorena. Who, might we ask, are you?"

Khujand hesitated for a split second, not used to saying his own name out loud. He would need to spend a lot more time meeting new people to get over his social anxiety. Slouching forward, he lowered his ears, closed one eye slightly and deadpanned: "I'm da guy dat's gonna win a free drink tonight."

"This guy's funny!"

A loud slap was heard on the back of Khujand's left shoulder, causing him to flinch slightly. Physical contact of the non-violent sort was another thing that would take some getting used to. Turned to his side, he realized that it was the orc man named Snark that had slapped him on the back chummily.

Fortunately, some remnant of his sense of humor was still there as he was able to laugh at himself for a bit along with the group of strangers. "You're quite jumpy tonight, my friend," chuckled Kuma. "I hope that doesn't bode ill for your chances in our mini-tournament here!"

Half an hour later and Khujand's comfort level had jumped way up. Much to the shock of everyone in the immediate area, he had won the best two out of three arm wrestling matches with Kuma. Everyone rotated, the guys around getting a real kick out of seeing Kuma's sister Zorena arm wrestle Patina, a female orc shaman. The laughter grew even louder when nobody, not even Khujand or Kuma, could defeat the mute Forsaken shadow priest Simar Anderson. Seeing Thunderhorn, himself an aspiring tauren brave and the heaviest person in the group, lose to the bony arms of Anderson was quite a sight.

For the first time in a few days, Khujand's back muscles relaxed as he was able to stop being so stiff. The slouch so natural to jungle trolls reemerged without him even noticing it, and he forgot why he ever felt so awkward before entering the tavern door. Perhaps the slow pace at which his social skills returned to him was simply due to having isolated himself in his own little world.

Just as the arm wrestling was wearing out its welcome, a crash was heard from the opposite end of the tavern. A diverse, mixed race group of patrons had somehow brought tribal drums inside without anyone noticing. Patrons were whistling and cheering as the four brave (and drunk) individuals lined up drums in hand and posed in unison for a moment before sloppily playing a war song. While Khujand was in no position to judge the social propriety of just about any situation involving other people, it seemed odd and humorous in a random sort of way.

The four players were unskilled and totally lacked group coordination, yet the tribal drums spoke to the heart of every orc, troll and tauren in the establishment nonetheless. While it might not have been so familiar to the scattered elves and undead, most of them were nodding their heads or expressing approval in some other manner. The goblins didn't seem to notice.

A few couples in the tavern began dancing wherever they could find space, and two manes of black and blue hair caught the corner of Khujand's eye. Turning to see, he realized that Toruk and Javilla had been sitting two tables over the whole time. Noticing his head turn, the couple seemed surprised to see Khujand at first though they shared a word with each other before Toruk flashed Khujand a thumbs up.

The loud beats of the drum were felt by the crowd through their feet, shooting up into their chests where it could be felt along with the beat of the heart. Its beats were uneven in pace and tone, yet the crowd was still overwhelmingly positive in its response. Khujand breathed deep as he felt the energy of the other living beings around him, experiencing both familiarity and novelty at the same time.

What were you so anxious about, the familiar inner voice whispered to him. He let the question be, as it was likely rhetorial, as were most of the questions his subconscious often asked him.

A flash of pink caught the corner of the same eye, and Khujand turned his head again. A younger jungle troll was chatting with Javilla loud enough for him to hear her over the drums. Two more women - an orc and a blood elf - were seated to her other side. Khujand's sudden feeling of comfort disappeared in a hearbeat and his realization of how socially awkward he really was rushed back onto him when he realized that Javilla was pointing directly at him while conversing with Jiranta.

Alright, that's a little bit much for your first night back among the living, said the voice a bit louder. Maybe they're just talking about some weird guy that stays at the same inn. Talking...and remaining seated over there

His anxiety continued rising as Toruk took Javilla by the hand to an open space with two other couples dancing while two blood elf paladins who looked like twins began chatting up their fellow blood elf and the third troll seated against the bar. Jiranata was left on her own. His paranoia and focus on worst-case scenarios set in. Khujand gulped in his throat as he hoped someone else would ask Jiranta her astrological sign or whatever it was the young bar crowd was into these days. Anything to help him forget that the two young women had just been speaking about and pointing at him. Much to his dismay, Jiranta looked him right in the eye, chugged an impossibly tall mug of lager before setting it behind her on the bar and beckoning him over with her finger, a villainous grin on her face.

As much as he really didn't want to dance with a stranger in front of other strangers after having not danced in six years, he also didn't want to embarrass the drunk woman who had quite obviously made a pass at him in clear view of his new friends. He knew all too well that rejection hurts. Snark and Kuma were prodding Khujand on before he had even stood up fully, egging on their new buddy. Jiranta stretched her arms out ahead of herself while beding forward, and had already locked her fingertips with his by the time he was out of his chair. She pulled him over behind her group of dancing friends with surprising force.

His heart was pounding as he fought back against the thought of embarrassing himself on his first night out.

You don't remember how to dance, the voice said with a sense of urgency. You're going to make an ass out of yourself already and you're going to go running back into your shell at the end of the night and end up back at square one. He tried his best to ignore it but -

Before he quite knew what was going on, the young girl had somehow managed to swing Khujand's burly frame around 180 degrees, take a big step forward straight into his chest and shove him down into the chair she had been sitting on. He braced the chair on both edges of the seat, relieved that - from what he could tell - he was expected to watch while she did the dancing.

As the drunken drummers continued to play on stage, their previously competing beats synced up with one another slightly. The noise of the crowd became one long, dull composite sound as Khujand began to feel far away. Jiranta's hands lead her arms like thin snakes through the air as she felt more rhythm than was actually in the music, bucking her hips like every troll girl learned to from childhood. Most of the other patrons were focused on their conversations or the stage, and enough couples and groups had stood up to dance that a protective maze of walls shielded anyone from looking over at Khujand's nervousness. He focused on the movement of his lungs in order to control his breathing and -

"Relaaaax," Jiranta hummed to him in a voice which was a bit high-pitched, though it appeared she had tried to sound sultry. She removed her upper coat and laid it on Khujand's shoulder, revealing a fur vest with the top button undone. The v-shape under her neck was low-cut and the garment was so short that her midriff along with the upper part of her hips were visible. She slowly raised one ankle from the floor after another, straightening out the knee of the opposite leg as she rotated herself in place. One of her knees brushed up against his, reminding him of how close they were. She avoided eye contact, however, appearing to be lost in herself.

She was thin, as Ushka had said. Almost the same body type as Zul'rea.

There was name he hadn't thought of in a while. Zul'rea. His second wife. The hair color was different. Zul'rea's was orange, though he always thought it was dyed. Their relationship lasted a few months and the had rushed in. She was impressed by his rank with...those people. It bolstered his normally low self confidence. Zul'rea was similarly young. Khujand has barely entered his second decade of life; Zul'rea was only fourteen years old. She was young, naive, submissive, docile. Everything an insecure boy trapped in a man's body would want. Even her appearance was childlike. Her hips had still been narrow when they met, at least by troll standards. Her elbows were a bit bony, like the type of child to be chided for not eating enough. Her lips were not yet full like a proper, mature Darkspear woman's should be. But she was his, and only his. Her attention had all been focused on him, until everything was taken away.

Khujand snapped back in to the present and realized he was fantasizing about one of his ex-wives in a room full of strangers. That sense of social impropriety set in only to be pushed aside by Jiranta edging closer to him as she practiced her moves. It was practically a lap dance at this point, though his discomfort was coming from somewhere else.

Ushka said it's too late for her to be out, the voice rang in his skull. Why would she say that, genius?

Khujand suddenly noticed the pelvic bone visible underneath the skin of Jiranta's narrow hips. Her skinny arms still reminded him of snakes slithering through the air, her bony elbows protruding more noticeably when she bent her arms. Her thin lips parted as she quietly giggled to herself, the lights gleaming off of tusks that were short even for a female. Alarms started going off in his head.

Without thinking, Khujand nudged her aside as slowly as possible so to avoid beign noticed by the rest of the patrons. Jiranta's dancing slowed down as he stood up behind her and wrapped her jacket over her shoulders, lightly pushing her through the crowd. "Come wit me, baby girl. I need to talk to ya outside."

"Oooh mista Kounjad, you move tings along quickly," she slurred dizzily. "Dis be excitin."

He ignored whatever she was mumbling after that and ushered her out the door as fast as he could without making a scene. Once on the porch, she put her arms into the sleeves of her coat and buttoned it up all the way.

"Come wit me, Jiranta." He turned up the bass in his voice, no longer overanalyzing or thinking much about the situation at all. He felt compelled to get her out of there. He held her wrist and walked across a small intersection, turning left and walking in to an alleyway. The young girl followed.

When he felt they were out of earshot of anyone, Khujand stopped to face her, making sure not to position himself between her in a corner or against a wall. He didn't want her to panic.

"Where we be goin, mista Kounjad?" She was trying - and failing - to sound sultry again.

"Girl, you drunk. You ain't smashed, but you shouldna drunk that much." His accent wasn't as thick as hers. "Ushka was worryin about ya earlier."

"I be my own boss mon, nobody puts no curfew on Jiranta!" She seemed to actually believe that.

"How old you be?" He turned up the bass in his voice again, though her shudder seemed to contain both nervousness and excitement. That only added to Khujand's discomfort.

"I be thirteen an seven months!" Her eyes beamed as though a number was some kind of achievement. Khujand was about to roll his eyes before he did a double take at the realization of just how young this little girl was.

"You comin with me. Now. You comin back to da inn and we gonna pretend I didn't jus find you out drinkin alcohol after dark in a place fulla strangers." He turned around and started walking, only to feel her tugging at his fingers with her free hand in an attempt to escape his grip.

"Nuh uh, dat's bullshit. I ain't even been out fo a hour yet. You best lemme go or Jiranta gonna make ya regret it!" The defiance in her voice visibly irritated him. A drunken brat was the last thing he wanted to deal with, but there was something inside prodding him on.

"Discussion over. You's a kid. Now - hey!" His words were interrupted by limp girl punches to his shoulder. "Knock it off!"

Her reaction was swift and fiercer than he had expected. "Fuck you Kounjad, Ushka ain't my boss and you ain't my daddy! You ain't my daddy! Get yo fuckin hands off me, Jiranta gonna make ya regret this!" Her voice was raised. There was no one around that Khujand could see, though his paranoia was taking over. This was not going as he had planned.

Khujand had never even known how to deal with arguments with Zul'rea, to whom he was mated, much less a drunk teenager he didn't even know. If any bystanders saw a brute like him dragging an underage girl through an alleyway, it would only end badly for him. He released his grip. He made sure to position himself between her and the tavern, hoping she would at least flee in the other direction.

"Fuck you and fuck yo mama and fuck yo tiny tusks and fuck -"

"GO!" His voice wasn't so much loud as it was gruff and filled with as much fake anger as he could muster. That finally did it. He saw a quick flash of fear in her eyes as she jumped back and whimpered in a way that send a short wave of guilt through his heart. As she turned and ran as fast as her inebriated legs would carry her, she made a left on the next street up. He could hear her footsteps turning toward the town gate.

This could be even worse, now. That nitwit is heading away from the town itself. Khujand saw a descending path forming a sort of natural ramp winding its way down the side of the raised settlement. He walked a few alleyways up to peek at her from a corner.

Yep. The little idiot was running out of town in the dark. As Khujand stood, he saw three dark figures move from from behind the next building over across the street from his vantage point. They were clearly following Jiranta down the ramp. Had they heard the exchange? Were they watching?

You know what comes next, the voice said in a lecturing tone.

"I jus wanted ta have a normal evenin with normal people." He wasn't sure if he just thought that or had said it out loud.

You told Ushka you would send her back to the inn, where she belongs. If you hadn't tried to, she would just be back at the tavern embarrassing herself and damaging her liver a bit. You chose to drag her outside. She wouldn't be at this point otherwise. What happens now is worse. You know that. His subconscious whispered everything he already knew, making sure he wouldn't forget it.

Khujand sighed heavily as he started trailing the sound of the footsteps, hanging back to avoid being seen. The fear of violating the conditions of his release hung heavy on his shoulders as he walked.