"Hmph," the air was fresh, Grax inhaling the crisp aroma through his flat snout. The pot-bellied orc leaned low, running his fingers across a few dewy blades of grass; the forest was at peace. It was still dawn and the morning sun was just beginning to crawl over the horizon.
Perhaps he'd fish today, grabbing a healthy handful of wriggling earthworms.
"Mrrmmm," Grax grumbled at some unpleasant thought; today would not be about 'her'. This was his home, a solitary place only frequented by a peculiar visitor.
An orange glow danced across the water's surface as he cast the line out. His eyelids narrowed as a soothing peace came over him.
"An Orc!" The girly voice shattered the preoccupied Orc's concentration like a warhammer; it feigned surprise. "Look at this big, manly beast," though it clearly belonged to a teenager, perhaps younger, Drax resented its chirpy annoyance.
"I have no times for your games, Elmira."
It was no coincidence that she'd found him. Even if it was by chance, the tiny Eleven aristocrat was much too eager, perhaps manically so.
"Games? Hmph! As though I'd willingly traipse about in such a savage land, throwing myself at the whims of a filthy 'brute' like you; the very thought–"
Elmira had to brush some astray, silver strands into place, obviously flustered by such lewd implications.
Still a preteen by Elven standards, Elmira had the libido of goblin in heat and was quite keen on taking the only Orc she'd ever met for a spin: kind ol' Grax. The fish had surely been frightened by her yapping and the shirtless hermit would not turn his head to indulge the brat.
"Come on, ravage me already!" Her gilded eyes were aflame with aggravation and desperate arousal; Elira was not used to being denied anything.
"No." He groaned, collecting his bait and rod.