Patrolling Quilboar

Andy was hit in the face by a gust of sand from a whirlwind. He hurriedly covered his eyes with his sleeve, coughing as he spat out the grit that had entered his mouth. "What kind of hellish weather is this!" Andy muttered.

Looking out, everything ahead was yellow. Andy truly suspected this was the desert of this world; even those drought-resistant ferns looked listless, their leaves drooping. The climate here was likely even harsher than a desert.

Andy kept heading south, glancing at the sky. The sun was already slanting westward, and his stomach felt empty; he had only eaten a few berries when he entered the Barrens. Andy walked for a while longer, found a sheltered corner against a rock face, and fell into a groggy sleep for the night.

Andy could barely sleep that night. Hunger was secondary; the most critical issue was the extreme temperature difference between day and night in the Barrens. During the day, the heat was enough to melt a person, but at night, the howling cold wind alone could freeze one into an icicle.

When he woke in the morning, Andy was so hungry he was gasping for air. Despite this, he had to keep moving. He knew the Orc invasion would end at Ashenvale and could not advance a single inch further, not even if Gul'dan himself came. Crossing Ashenvale to the north meant entering the vital territories of the Elf Race, and Tyrande would not let them invade easily. Thus, the Orcs would soon head south, arriving in this barren land.

Andy forced himself to walk until nearly noon. Just as his vision began to blur, he seemed to see a wild rabbit dart across a sand dune not far away. Andy shook his head, wondering if he was starting to hallucinate. When he steadied his gaze, he realized he wasn't seeing things; a wild rabbit was indeed crouching under that dune.

Andy's spirits instantly lifted. He hurriedly drew his bow and notched an arrow, ran a few steps, and released the string. The sharp arrow pierced straight through the rabbit's body. Andy ran over, pulled the arrow from the rabbit, and pressed his mouth to the wound, letting the fishy, pungent rabbit blood flow into his mouth. Andy choked and coughed, but he had no choice; if he didn't drink this blood, he would likely die of thirst.

He used his skinning knife to gut the rabbit. He gathered a nest of withered grass, lit it with a flint, and tossed the rabbit into the fire. Once the dry grass burned out, Andy didn't even care about the heat; he used his hands to push aside the ash, picked up the rabbit, and began eating impatiently.

The rabbit wasn't fully cooked, and streaks of blood remained on the meat, but Andy didn't care. At this moment, Andy was perhaps more like an Orc than the Orcs themselves, his mouth stained with fresh blood as he devoured the half-raw, bloody meat.

After eating half the rabbit, Andy felt some strength return to his body. He hung the remaining half on his person and continued south; he had to leave this place before the Orcs arrived.

When the two moons iconic to Azeroth appeared in the sky, Andy looked around in a daze. He realized he had missed his chance to find shelter. The wind in the Barrens had begun to turn cold, making him shiver involuntarily as it blew against him.

Andy looked around, but there was no suitable place to spend the night. He ran a bit further and saw a large rock standing alone on the ground. Andy curled up behind it, which was just enough to block the cold wind. Although the air temperature remained very low, it was much better without the wind blowing directly on him.

Andy tightened his clothes and closed his eyes in a daze.

"The cold wind blows, yet my heart remains warm..." A flicker of fire swayed in the cold wind, drifting toward the large rock where Andy was sheltering. The flame bobbed back and forth like a roly-poly toy, refusing to go out despite the wind.

The light came from a torch soaked in animal fat. Illuminated by the fire was a pig standing half a man's height.

A pig? Yes, a pig, you didn't see that wrong! To be precise, it was a Quilboar. Two palm-sized pointed ears grew on the top of its head, twitching left and right from time to time to listen to the surroundings. At the ends of its two short legs were two pig hooves, and the legs were covered in thin animal hide. Its arms were relatively normal, and its thick, broad hands held the torch that swayed in the wind while it sang a song no one could understand, sitting down on the rock with a thud.

"Ugh, it's way too cold today." The Quilboar complained, "Making me come out to patrol in such cold weather is just bullying; I've been patrolling at night for a whole month straight!"

Andy sat behind the rock, listening quietly. Andy hadn't been sleeping soundly to begin with, and the loud pig-grunt when the Quilboar appeared had startled him awake. Andy was thankful he had a translation system; otherwise, all he would have heard was a series of grunts. Thinking of this, an image appeared in Andy's mind of a pig walking down the road holding a torch, grunting loudly as it strolled.

"Pfft." Andy lost his focus for a moment and let out a laugh, which sounded exceptionally prominent in the quiet wilderness of the night.

"Oh, mother!" The Quilboar let out a loud cry and jumped off the large rock. For the past month, it had rested on this rock every time it patrolled here, and it had never heard the rock make a sound before!

After that laugh, Andy hurriedly covered his mouth. Although he wasn't afraid of it, it was unwise to confront these beast-like species in the middle of the night.

The Quilboar brought the torch closer to the rock, a look of confusion in its eyes. "Why is there no sound now?" The Quilboar muttered, starting to circle the rock.

"Holy crap!" The Quilboar discovered a dark shadow behind the rock and was so scared it nearly dropped the torch.

Andy was also startled; he didn't know what had gotten into this pig, but it had actually dared to come around to the back to check after hearing a noise. Andy stared at the pig, eye to eye.

"W-w-what are you?" The Quilboar stammered.

"W-w-what are you?" Andy scrambled up, mimicking the Quilboar's tone.

"I'm a Quilboar, what are you?" the Quilboar said. "Don't copy me!"

Andy looked at the Quilboar and couldn't help but laugh; it even knew he was mimicking it. "What do I look like to you?" Andy said.

The Quilboar leaned in closer, the torch almost touching Andy. Andy's two pointed ears were exposed, he wore leather armor, and leather boots on his feet. "Are you a Quilboar too?" the Quilboar asked suspiciously. "How come I've never seen a Quilboar as tall as you?" Clearly, the Quilboar had only noticed Andy's pointed ears.

Andy nearly spat out a mouthful of blood. He glared at the Quilboar and snapped, "You're the Quilboar! Your whole family is Quilboar!"

"Yeah, I am a Quilboar, and my wife is a Quilboar too!" The Quilboar was convinced Andy was a Quilboar; although this kin looked a bit strange, it didn't have high guard against its own kind.

"What's wrong with being a Quilboar? Don't deny who you are just because you look a bit strange," the Quilboar said, leaning closer. "Quilboars have self-respect too!"

Andy was caught between laughter and tears. Having run into such a character, it seemed its intelligence wasn't very high, though he wondered if all Quilboars were like this. Andy glanced at the Quilboar and sighed, "Fine, I'm a Quilboar, and I'm proud of it!" Andy muttered to himself, How the hell am I supposed to be proud of this?

"That's the spirit." The Quilboar grinned, its two tusks looking even more ferocious. "Hey, why are you out here alone so late?"

"I..." Andy put on an embarrassed expression and said, "I got lost."

"Huh?" The Quilboar exclaimed, "Lost? You really are something else!"

The Quilboar sat back down on the rock and said, "Look, wait until I rest a bit, then come back with me. It's better than blowing in the cold wind out here in the wilderness. I'm Nak. Which tribe are you from?"

"I..." Andy didn't know how to answer; how would he know what Quilboar tribes existed?

"Eh, forget it. Looking at your brain, it's definitely not as good as mine. A Quilboar who gets lost couldn't possibly remember its own tribe." The Quilboar Nak waved his hand and said, "I'm from the Razormane Tribe."

Andy couldn't help but gape. What kind of logic was this? What did getting lost have to do with not remembering one's tribe? However, hearing the name Razormane, he asked, "Where do you live?"

"We're just a short distance to the east, in Razorfen," Nak said.

Razorfen? Andy felt a jolt of alarm. This was it—he had walked straight into the Quilboar stronghold!