Hey hey. I gotten some very sweet, wonderful reviews for "Of Age and Innocence", so I figured I'd throw up the sequel to the story. It's been pretty popular on other sites so far, so I hope it's as well received here.

Anyway, enjoy the story. I'm having a Hell of a time writing it, and I hope you like it as much as I do.

Much love.

a - a - a - a - a - a

That first night I lay in the grit and chill of the roadside ditch, whispering prayers to whatever God or Goddess was listening to me. It did not matter if it was an Alliance or Horde Deity; I figured that if any felt an inclination to be merciful to a pitiful creature like me, then I'd take what they would give. The dirt was getting into my wounds, my blood mixing with the mud, and the rain did not come at all. I prayed, watching the cold, early morning light break through the horizon and touch the ground around me. I prayed for the culmination of whatever fate the Gods had set out for me, but my only answer was a chilled wind blowing over the hills.

I don't remember if I prayed for death or life. I don't know if my prayers were answered or not.

By the time the sun had finally passed the horizon, I had no feeling in my toes and fingertips. I flexed them – they were workable – but the pins and needles beneath my skin sent shocks up my limbs into my bones. It was mildly annoying, but bearable. I lay for a while longer, before I decided that wallowing in the mud was obviously getting me nowhere. I had not died during the night, and no one had come on me in the dark. The only alternative I had left was to get up, and try to find my mount.

I still had no idea what it was that had scared the wretched beast. Raptors did not spook easily, and she had been specially trained for front lines battle. It would have taken an epic event to cause her to throw me and disappear into the night.

My hand gripping a dislocated shoulder, I struggled out of the ditch. Layers of dried mud cracked and fell off of my in sheets, crumbling beneath my feet as I stepped over them. The road in either direction was clear, and the air eerily silent. There was a thin mist over the valley and surrounding hills. Trees were silhouettes in the distance. I was in a vacuum, and it did nothing to calm my nerves. I gritted my teeth, and gave a quick yank on my arm. The shoulder ground and popped, snapping back into place. To my shame a noise escaped during the process, but it did not carry, much to my relief.

With that done, I was left with the dilemma on which way to go. The area in which my mount had thrown me was one of those mirrored places – it looked the same in all directions, as though I were looking into a still pool; the reflection the exact replica of reality. I was lost, with no clue as to which direction I was meant to go.

Sighing, I procrastinated further in my choice by checking my gear. My backpack had been strapped to my Raptor's saddle, so I did not have any potions or even my Hearth Stone on me. All that I had in my possession were my daggers, my armor, and a small vial of low grade poison. I did not even have my missive, the very thing that had led me to this damnable place. With nothing left to keep me lingering, I took a deep breath, and headed down the road.

Without a clear view of the sun, as storm clouds were rolling across the sky and fog blanketing the ground, I had no idea how long I moved forward. It could have been minutes or hours, the only thing anchoring me to reality was the ache in my bones and injuries. With all the time in the world, my mind began to wander. It visited dark places, my own doom and death, then to warmer times beneath the swaying palms of Sen'jin and the sun baked stones of Durotar. I had never known my homeland, but the land of the Orcs had been my birthplace. It seemed just as good a place as any, now. Though, back in my youth, it was the last place in the world I had wanted to be.

I suppose that was why I had ventured so far west, into the Barrens on the night of my Adulthood.

My family and tribe had not expected me to go much further than the boundaries of our town. Perhaps I would go as far as Orgrimmar, as I was headstrong and sure of myself. I had every intention of becoming a Hunter, then, and was charged with finding a great beast to slay and return home with as my trophy. I had suffered the hours of the day with the ritual scarring, the intricate designs that took several applications before they stayed. To permanently scar a Troll took dedication and patience; to allow someone the time needed to do so was a mark of bravery and grit. Each of my Tribe, when old enough, went through this process. So as the sun sank past the ocean line, I was feeling rather strong in mind and body. I had made it through the first step to becoming an Adult, and it made me foolish.

I moved west, under the cover of the creeping shadows, and crossed the river into the Barrens.

By the time I had come upon her, it was already pitch dark.

I had sat up in one of the low growing trees, my rifle at the ready as I waited for some acceptable game to come by. I had killed a boar earlier in the evening, skinned and cut for dinner. I was waiting for something grand, something difficult and worthy of a man like myself when I had heard the screaming.

Through the gloom I saw her, a Night Elf female, running as fast as her little dress would allow her to. Behind her, hot on her heels were a small pack of Quilboar, grunting and snorting and squealing in delight at the easy fare. She was blind in her panic, running to nowhere safe. I should have let her run by, to get eaten alive by the ugly bastards, but something inside of me must have gone insane. As she reached my tree, I hooked my legs around the branch and fell forward, grabbing hold of her and lifting her up into the tree with me.

She fought and kicked like an animal, and I held her still and quiet as best I could. Her pursuers ran past, not even realized that she was just a few feet above them, and disappeared into the night. She calmed down when she figured out that they had gone. At least, she was calm until she saw me.

I'd like to say that I wasn't hurt by her reaction, but really, what did I expect? Kisses and hugs and praise? She was a Night Elf, snotty and full of herself by design, and I was just a Troll. She screamed, fell, and I caught her again. Once we finally made it to the ground and she calmed down enough to really take a look at me, I got my first real look at her.

I tell you, right now, I had never seen anything prettier in my entire life.

It was dark, lending strange shadows to her color, but it was pretty all the same. Her eyes were huge, round and wide and glowing faintly in the dark. Her clothing was cloth, her boots leather, and I couldn't resist the urge to touch the craftsmanship. Intricate patterns had been sewn into the top and around the laces, and they felt soft beneath my fingertip. I must have spoken my thoughts out loud - ibeautiful/i - because she stiffened almost immediately. When I met her eyes again, I knew what I had to do.

The walk to my camp went much faster after I swept her up into my arms and started out at a brisk jog. She clung to me like seaweed, burying that little nose into my neck. Now, I am a proud Troll, with every intention at that point to find a suitable mate and breed plenty of offspring. But there was something about the smell of her, the softness to her, that made something in me tense and coil. My mind, young and full of ideas began to plot and whisper, to urge me to do things with that female that she would surely not appreciate.

So when we reached the camp, I tried to keep my distance, but she just would not stop. She luxuriated on my bed, rolled around on my furs, spreading her scent and softness all over the place. She looked at me as though I were something amazing, something she just wanted to crawl into and investigate. It was flattering and unnerving at the same time, if that makes any sense. I tried to ignore it, but she would not allow my attention to waver.

I finished cooking our dinner, and she came to eat with me. Again, I blame insanity, for I suddenly yanked her down to my lap. She made a little noise of surprise, but quickly grew comfortable, her behind pushing against me in ways that brought up those dark little thoughts again, and I knew I couldn't resist much longer.

When she had me feed her bits of cooked meat, and licked the juices from my fingers, I felt that coil inside of me snap.

And I had her.

She was all softness and curves and wetness. She cried and mewled and clawed. She touched me all over, begged me to make her mine. When she drew blood across my back, my instincts took over and I treated her as roughly as any Troll would while rutting. She wanted every moment, every brutality my sex hazed mind could create. And when I sank my teeth into her shoulder, when I felt her insides clench around me, everything in the universe shifted and I broke apart.

In the early morning light I watched her sleeping, brushed stray hair away from her cheeks. Her shoulder was bruised and swelling – it would scar. The entire bed, even myself, smelled of her and her homeland. She was beautiful while she slept, while caught in her dreams. And as I looked at her, the pieces of me that had broken away during our mating began to mend together in the wrong places, and I knew I would never be who I was.

I packed as quietly as possible, leaving the bottom fur out of necessity. Just before I left the camp, I knelt next to her sleeping form, and gave her what I could. I lent down and kissed her cheek, relishing the warmth there for one last time, and cut a single braid from my hair. I had seen her admiring the beads earlier in the night, and knew that somehow, that it would be important to her that she have one. I tucked the braid into her pocket, and disappeared into the early morning gloom.

Years later I had become adept in the world of Rogues, and though foolish enough to garner injury and the loss of my right eye, I had been fairly successful at my profession. And not a year went by that I did not think of that Night Elf, small and soft and pretty, laying beneath me in the cold Barrens night.

I guess that's why I did something so incredibly stupid as to try and find her again.

I really don't know what it was that drove me to start the line of inquiry. I kept it as quiet as possible, answered as few questions as I could get away with. But despite the lengths I went to, I could not explain to anyone, or even myself, why it was that I sought the Night Elf. I had not gone so far in my interest as to swear off other women – and believe me, there were plenty of women in a 10 year span – or even compared all my bed partners to her. She was a one time occurrence, a bubble in the threading, and really, there was no reason to seek her out once more. To even consider it was dangerous, and would most likely lead to disappointment for myself.

So I remained as detached as I could about the matter. I sent inquiries, left hints, called in a favor here and there. You know... showed a mild interest in the project. All the Heavens help me, I didn't really expect to see anything come of it.

I had been searching for almost a year, and had taken some time for myself in Booty Bay. I very much enjoyed the salty air and the thick mead the Goblins served. When a friend and contact of mine approached me in the corner of the pub, carrying a sealed letter, I was so surprised I did not even finish my drink.

That letter had brought me to where I currently was, injured and limping down a deserted road that looked the same no matter how I tilted my head. I had accepted that my Raptor was long gone as well as my Worldly possessions, and I would most likely be set on by a group of Alliance guards at any point. For a few minutes I seriously considered just sitting at the side of the path to wait for them – walking didn't seem to be doing me any good, after.

I had just convinced myself that sitting down was the most brilliant plan conceived when I caught the scent of woodsmoke and cooking spice. Being headstrong that I was, my original plan was quickly cast aside, and I followed my nose.

The scent carried me along at least another ten minutes, veering off the main path which though I was loathe to leave behind me, could not compare to the possibility of life and food. Perhaps this person cooking this wonderfully satisfying meal had bandages, or was a healer themselves and wouldn't mind attending a few broken ribs.

Finally, finally, after minutes of tripping over stones and thick tufts of high grass, I caught sight of a dim glow in the fog – a campfire, blazing cheerily in the distance. With renewed vigor I went forward as fast as my injuries allowed. Panting, sweating, it seemed every obstacle in the stupid ground decided to get in my path and I stumbled more than I walked, but eventually, I made it to the outside ring of the firelight.

I only found that the camp was empty. The bags and bedroll were in place, the spider meat was cooking over the spit. Everything was as it should have been, except for the camper.

I sighed, my one eye dropping closed as I felt the muzzle of a hunting rifle press into the base of my skull. Of course I was being ambushed – it wasn't as though I had thought this approach through. I probably sounded like a herd of storm crazed Kodos coming toward the camp. Of course the owner of said camp would lay in wait and catch a possible enemy off guard. It was only natural, and exactly what I would have done.

"Undu, Uuavanimo."

Of course, I wasn't banking on the camper to be Alliance. Just one more line on a long list of things I had royally screwed up in the past week. I sighed again, and slowly dropped to my knees, being careful to go slowly, my hands raised to show I was no threat. Granted, I was lucky the person hadn't shot first and demanded obedience at point blank range later, but life's funny like that, ya know?

I winced when I heard the hammer pulled back on the gun, and before I knew what I was doing, I completely blew my biggest secret ever.

I spoke. It wasn't a lot, or even pronounced right, I'm sure, but I spoke in Common. And what did I do, while exposing my big huge gigantic secret? Acted and sounded like an ass, of course.

"I monster, no. Kill, no. Hurt in past. Friendly?"

Don't get me wrong, I can actually hold a decent conversation in that language when not threatened with an immediate hole through my skull. It's just that when you're close to panic, brushing up against Lady Death twice in as many days, and on your knees with a gun to your head, you kind of lose the ability to articulate in your own language, let alone a foreign one. So forgive me for sounding like an idiot. What I had meant to tell this person was, in fact, that I was not a monster (that's what "Uuavanimo" means, by the way.), and that they should not kill me. Especially since I was already injured and of no threat to them. Compile all these facts together good sir/madam, and you will see that I can be quite friendly?

Regardless of my best intentions, as was my lot in life it seemed, my little speech did nothing to dispel my captor's disposition. I heard boots moving across the ground, and I dared not turn my head toward the body slinking around me. Instead, I waited until the warden had come into my immediate view, and my eyes snapped up to her face.

Her skin was a pale lavender, her hair a deep, dark mossy green. Her eyes were huge and round, glowing faintly in the dim light. She wore a body suit of hand tailored leather, spells and enchantments creeping over the craftsmanship like oil on water. Her ears were long and pointed, extremely elegant for her slender face. I felt something in me twitch as I stared up at her face, at the familiar curve of her cheek. I was not sure what I was seeing, until my eye focused just below her left ear where dangling there, braided into her own green hair was a single, purple braid with hand carved beads and a painted rodent skull securing the ends together.

I snapped my eye back to hers, and my mouth opened to speak, hardly believing who it was I had stumbled across, but she beat me to the punch.

"Talk later, you bastard."

And then, the butt of her shotgun had intimate relations with the side of my head, and the world was wonderfully black.