[Aranskah] - A Week of Banishment

Day One

Aranskah drifted. First his drake's cobalt wings carried him to the Swamp of Sorrows, where they stood high atop its bordering mountains and looked down on the fires of the Horde war machine and the tree stumps so open and visible. His eyes caught on the Sunken Temple, where the top pressed from the waters, and he moved forward. He landed atop the stones where they jutted from the water's surface, gaze turned to the east. It was the sea calling him, perhaps, or the longing for her company in the absence of it when he knew that it would be so long.

'And this is why I had made no efforts to join the family. The decision was made clear enough.' The bull shook his head, his mane tousled by the winds that swept over the water, and spurred the drake onward. Their next landing was a small outcropping by the sea, and Aran looked around. He thought to go to a port city, to stay there through the week and dream of her presence with the rush of the tides, but it would be too cluttered from the others that gathered in such places.

'I knew it would come to this. Still I came and talked to her. Still I posed the facts to her.' Aran drew in a heavy breath of the briny air, his nostrils flooding with it, and yet the words of Xrith and Kat haunted his mind. There was truth in them that the bull would not see. If Shari truly belonged to them then he would lose her for not putting them first, but his heart wouldn't let that fact settle in his mind, not from their lips. He'd posed the truth to Kat that she would know because Shari had wanted him to.

Anger bubbled in him, but he was skilled at forming anger to his use. 'Not today.' Kat and Xrith were not enemies, and the lesson was one the Lady felt well-served. He'd not set out to cause problems, and wouldn't now over being kept from her for so short a time as week. 'Oh but a week is so long.' His heart thudded heavily at the thought of the time that would drag out from there, seconds becoming minutes, minutes becoming hours. But he would give no opportunity to Shari'Adune to break their order. He would move his hearthstone... 'Or better...'

Dark hands sifted through his belongings and drew the small white stone from his packs. He stood there, on the outcropping, for a long time. A span of minutes with the small, cold stone in his calloused palm, and then turned his eyes to the ocean. Sucking his lower lip between his flat teeth the tauren threw the stone and it flew through the air, a heavy 'plunk' sounding in the water where it fell.

'She will worry, but to write her to ease her would be breaking the edict they set forth. It is her family, and she has told me now that it comes before matters of the heart.' A cold knowledge chilled his own heart, traveling from there along his spine, 'If she really wishes to have me I must conform to that same ideal...'

He pressed the air from his nose forcefully, like it would wash out the offending thought, and shook his mighty head. All the while he knew the thought was true.

With a sigh caught between the pull of anger and of dismay the bull spurred the drake forward again. They traveled north along the coast, passing by towns and ships at sea, and he found no place to comfort his emotion.

Eventually they settled on a more defined outcropping. A crevice in walls that reached very high. Safety lest he roll in his sleep. Shark tails and fins occasionally passed his gaze and gryphons flew overhead, but tonight he made this his home, and the invasive lull of sleep came to him on the rolling of the waves, pulling him into a place where his concerns would haunt him and ghostly reflections of possible outcomes would play before his eyes.

((This one's what he saw sleeping that night. I'm not going to try and make the transition between scenes particularly clear since it's meant to capture the feeling of a dream, where things sometimes just happen and make sense even though they shouldn't. Hope you can enjoy it anyway.))

((Using this color for his dream.))

~~~~~~~~~~

Night One

Rain fell from the skies above, dinging off of the armor he wore. Thunder Bluff had never felt so welcoming as when he'd first come to it with Shari, never so empty as it felt without her. He stood in her tent on Spirit Rise looking around. The sleeping mats were gone, the trunk was gone. Even her scent was gone from the place, fading in the absence of the mats on which she'd slept.

'She left me...'

The thought repeated time and time again in his mind as he stood there, turning from one canvas wall to the next. "Aran, you alright?" One of the Bluff Watchers asked.

The bull turned to look over his shoulder, out the open flaps of the tent. Before him was a place of bountiful life. Large, waxy leaves lay just a pace or two beyond the earthen floor of the tent, and standing before him was one of the Grimtotem guards. "I'm fine, Lenata," the bull offered in a small voice.

Her lips curled in a small, comforting smile, "Come on Aranskah, I know that's not true."

He ignored her, turning his gaze back to the tent. All that was left of his family was the canvas he stood in and the possessions his father had left behind. 'He left me...' The thought ran through his young mind again as he looked down at his hands, hands that had just put an end to the Centaur who had murdered his father on the Grimtotem raid.

Empty words from an earlier time echoed in his heart, "I'm here Aranskah, I always will be."

And then he saw him standing over the fire, and his young self before him. "Always?" He asked in his young voice.

"Of course, my son, of course," Aranskah's father brushed the calf's mane with his calloused hand, gently soothing the boy who had woken from some nightmare or other.

"I'm sorry, Father," the young, ghostly image told his father's ghostly image.

"Sorry?" the older bull asked, turning his red gaze down on his son.

"I know it's bad to be scared," Aran watched himself say. His image turned its head down.

"There's nothing wrong with being afraid, Son. What's important is acting in the face of fear. You never let go of your courage, you never leave the ones you love." His father paused for a moment before adding, "That's why we follow the Spirit Healers. It's why you come back time after time for as long as you're able."

The young image looked into his father's face by the firelight, "Then where did Mother go?"

It was clear in his father's face how the question pained him. It was clear how he missed Aran's mother, the mother the child had never known. "She was ill, Child."

The images faded and he looked around the tent again before seeing another, another conversation, more words of comfort. That conversation didn't complete before he snatched one of the large logs from their woodpile and launched it toward his father's shield where it leaned against one of the supports, "Then where did you go!?" Another chunk of wood was in his hand as he heard the telling scrape of the guard's hooves on the ground inside the tent canvas. He wheeled on her, "No! Get out!"

She frowned, ears falling back, eyes full of sympathy, "Oh, Aran, you're too young to go through this alone."

"Out!" He snarled, lifting the wood back to throw it at her.

Even then, when he was so young, the words and the tone of his voice had held a tinge of power, the flicker of the potential in him, and so she had dipped her nose, "Are you s-"

"OUT, NOW!" He'd almost screamed it, and she fell silent, walking backward from the tent. When the flaps fell closed again he'd wheeled and thrown the wood as hard as he could into the shield, knocking the support loose. That portion of the tent sagged inward as the canvas collapsed and Aran sniffed heavily, drawing the air through his nostrils. "Why did you go?" It was the whine of a five-year-old calf, perhaps smarter than some others, but no less young. He collapsed to the earthen floor he'd slept on through his short life, tears streaming from his young, red eyes and falling to the dirt.

The grand illusion weaved by his dreams faded to a degree and he remembered himself. That was long ago, fifty-two years and change. 'I left too...' Aranskah thought as he looked down at his hands. He hadn't stayed, he hadn't had the will to be what the Grimtotem sought to make him. 'It wasn't my home, it wasn't my place... My place is with her...'

He woke up shivering in the cold. The tide had risen on the stones and the spray flecked against his skin as he lay there in his pants. 'Foolish..' He thought to himself, sucking in a breath of the cold morning air. 'So foolish..' He looked at the empty hollow of his arm and felt her absence like the press of a knife to his heart. Cold, hard, unyielding. Resentment boiled in him for the family she held so dear, though even then it was not for all of them. Not for Sumiratana, the one he called cousin, not for Iressi who had fought beside him so often, not for Khazgral who he'd known so long, not for Catastrokon who was ever so polite, not for Jembah who had defended her so pointedly, nor even for Xrith who had written the letter. It rested with Kat alone.

'Keep your head on straight,' Aranskah told himself, something he'd first really heard from the lips of a Grimtotem Elder. 'She's not gone, it's just a week..' He looked out at the water, the occasional spray of the waves licking at his already wet body. His ears, arms, and legs shivered with the cold, and the chatter of his teeth seemed to fill his mind save for the dark response to his last thought, '...this time.'

((This takes place on December 9th even though I'm posting it a day late. =p))

~~~~~~~~~~

Day Two

Aran remained some time on the cold, rocky crevice he had awakened within. The fire had died long ago and the face of his stony bed was far less than comforting. He shifted his weight and felt the groan of muscles much displeased with him. 'Mm. This is no good.' But even as he thought it he realized a part of him wanted to stay longer, to linger in the cold and suffer. 'Pathetic.'

He stood, the dull ache of having slept on so hard a surface was most prevalent in his back and shoulders, and the remedy he longed for forbidden to him. 'Grow up, Bull.' Shivering hooves scraped against the stones, unsure footing on his rocky precipice, and the tides kept washing in. As Rhome stood at the edge of the sea his eyes fell upon the oil towers, thin protrusions of metal that stood against the crush of the tide. The bull shook his head, a sluggish motion that still managed to set his mane flying and slicked the water from it. The drake was nowhere to be seen.

'Least someone is still thinking.' Calloused fingers drew a cord of magically enchanted leather from his packs and the bull pressed it between his tired fingers. Moments later his cobalt creature appeared, claws scraping into the stone. He climbed onto its back and flew toward the town above him on the outcropping, navigating carefully through the smog lest he run into one of the gryphons he'd seen flying overhead the previous night.

The city rested above the smoke that it released, crowded with zeppelins and combatants fighting the Alliance. Aranskah surveyed it from the back of his drake, but could tell the warriors engaged were far more seasoned than he. With that knowledge the Tauren flew north to seek a mailbox and innkeeper elsewhere.

Many leagues of sea the two left beneath and behind them as they traveled, and the bull was grudgingly grateful for the sun that quickly dried and warmed his dark, black coat. 'Like Nature's kiss upon my back..' His braids swayed from side to side as he shook his head slowly and took in a deep, slow breath. 'Shari's getting under my skin in more ways than I had thought.... I wonder where she is.' Discarding the hearthstone and thus letting its magic fade carried the price of not knowing where she was, but his hope was that not knowing his location would make their distance easier for her.

The drake came at last to rest in a troll village, Revantusk of the Hinterlands. There he idled a time, looking around and watching the occupants of the village go about their business. Eventually he slid from the drake's back and opened the mail box, sifting through it for anything that might have been sent his way. 'Nothing, but I knew that...' He shook off again, though this time it was more in an effort to pull himself out of his dismal state. It had little success, but he was more awake.

Aran offered a forced smile to the innkeeper and had them bind a new hearthstone to him, but he immediately sensed Shari'Adune and so he crushed the stone in his fist, gaining an odd look from the innkeeper. The bull swallowed and murmured an apology before stepping outside. 'I wonder... if it was a choice between me or the family, where her choice would lie..' His eyes fell on the sea again, her sanctuary, and he frowned as he made a slow path to the docks. The cobalt drake followed in his wake, pressing its scaly nose to his elbow once in a gesture of comfort at the edge of the wooden planks before coiling up there and tucking its head under its wing.

Aran glanced back at it briefly as he walked onto the wooden boards and settled himself to the sound of gently creaking protest. With his right hand he reached into his packs and brought forth a small glass bottle. 'I don't wonder. I don't need to.' He sighed heavily, the warmth of his breath rolling across his fur and hands. Waves sloshed against the underside of his hooves almost like a cat lapping at them. They carried the scent of the sea, but lacked the scent of Shari'Adune herself.

His deep, red gaze fell to the bottle with it's brownish colored contents and he carefully pinched two fingers around the stopper to pull it free. A small smile, faint as the last embers of a long-passed fire, sparked on his leathery lips as the scent carried to him. He turned the bottle up so that the contents spilled against his forefinger, and then let it settle again, pulling his hand free to touch it to either side of his neck. The scent wrapped around him like a blanket from his fears. 'Amazing how quickly you can learn to love someone...' Aran turned his gaze toward his drake where it lay coiled by the base of the small dock. 'Amazing how quickly they can define everything about you... How quickly losing them can come to mean so much.' His breath rolled out through his nostrils again as he turned his gaze back to the sea so carelessly licking his hooves.

'Amazing how quickly they can be almost everything. Isn't that why I kept away?' He turned his gaze down to the palm of his hand and the small glass bottle within. 'I never thought I would find love outside of the Tauren... but never thought I would find love among them... And now I've done both, finding it outside and within...'

The sun glinted against the clear rim of the glass as he watched it, turning it slowly in his hand. 'Outside and within... And I could lose it to that Orc and her whims...' The press of his black ears against his head made him look so very menacing despite his haggard gaze. 'I'll be damned if that will come to pass.' His grip on the bottle tightened enough that the faintest hint of glass scraping reached his ears. 'Keep your head on straight.' He breathed deeply in and out several times in succession, each breath helping to calm him. When his mind was more clear the bull put the stopper back to the vial and got to his feet, ignoring the curious glances of the Trolls as he approached the drake.

"We fly to Outland," Aran said in his deep, rumbling voice.

His blue companion lifted its head from under its wing and peered at him closely, "What waits in Outland, Aranskah?"

The bull's tired lips drew into a calm, lifeless smile, "The Wind Traders of the Lower City... Perhaps the answer to a desire of the one I love."

The drake looked inquisitive even without having eyebrows to arch at her companion, "Aranskah.."

He shook his head, "Don't say a word about it."

Her scaly blue lips came together in an oddly serpentine frown as she bowed her head to his wish and moved so he could climb onto her back. "Do we go by way of Orgrimmar, or is it your wish to cross the continent?"

"Either will do." He could tell his mood bothered the drake, but she seemed content to be as quiet as she usually was, carrying him with her powerful wings from Revantusk Village to the Undercity.

~~~~~~~~~~

They traveled by way of Orgrimmar to reach Shattrath, where the Wind Traders could offer only rumors about what Aranskah was seeking, and even the rumors cost him quite a bit. He'd reached into his bag of gems to draw out those he had left to barter with and felt his fingers run across the only gem he carried that was not found in either Outland or the icy continent of Northrend... A single Blue Pearl. The cost of the rumors totaled three Dragonseye, two King's Amber, an Icy Prism, and three Eternal Belt Buckles. Aran knew the price was probably far too much, and found his suspicion confirmed when the Wind Traders told him where he needed to be going, and what he would have to do.

"Infiltrate the Dragonmaw Orcs and you may find a device capable of what you're seeking... Perhaps even the one you name..."

'Brilliant.' He'd managed to get them to tell him how he might go about doing this, though the manner they suggested did not sit well with him. To infiltrate the Orcs would require either a skill set he simply did not possess or the aid of a dragon flight known as the Netherwing. Proving his worth to them might earn him one of their magical disguises.

Another flight with his blue drake carried him to Shadowmoon Valley, and there he came upon an elf willing to help him. Under the elf's direction he set about the tasks of the Netherwing, killing the rockflayers they normally fed upon since the Orcs had driven them restlessly into the skies and feeding their hungry members, slaying the orcs in their own hold at the behest of the patriarch of the flight, freeing those nethwerwing dragons not yet lost to the Dragonmaw, standing toe to toe with Zuluhed the Whacked and forcing him to answer for his disregard and ambitions. When finally Aranskah retrieved the key to Karnyaku's magical bindings from Zuluhed's corpse he already felt exhausted. The dragon thanked him for what he'd done and carried him to the fields below where the rockflayers ran rampant, bringing him to another member of the flight.

Aranskah did attain his magical disguise, and the rest of the day was spent on Netherwing Shelf, fighting for hour upon hour with the rockflayers who inhabited the shelf to court favor with the Dragonmaw, save for a single errand tasked to him by his new keepers. As a fresh peon put at their disposal the Tauren had little hope of making enough of an impression to earn the confidence of their members and inquire about the item he sought. For this reason he went to slaughter, battling long into the night, until finally his dull, red eyes could stay open no longer and dogged steps carried him to a cold, metallic corner of the world where he could claim a fitful rest.

((This also takes place on December 9th.))

((Using this color for his dream again.))

~~~~~~~~~~

Night Two

No rain pelted against the metallic walls of the inn Aranskah had come to rest in. Rather the sound of a blacksmith's hammer and the searing of his forge permeated the night in a crafter's melody that few would have found calming or peaceful. Still, his heavy eyelids closed, the burden of his day's labor weighing them down despite the clamor that carried through the open doorframe of the inn. The voices of the Dragonmaw likewise invaded his sleeping space, but there was little the Tauren cared to do to change it.

"Why are you so keen to learn to work a forge?" It was a straightforward question that sat right at home amidst the ring of hammers.

Aran's eyes swept over the forge room again, the packed earth flooring bore telltale signs of the Tauren who worked upon it. Divots in the earth from implements of metal and heavy hooves marked their passage. His red eyes rested on the forge master, dark pools of respect. "I will live by my weapon, I should know how to mend it."

The Tauren standing before Aran had not been expecting such an answer. It was plain to the younger calf as he watched the Tauren's expression turn thoughtful before a leathery smile crept across his lips. "Well, that's sound enough logic for me. Go and get me that mace, Boy."

Aran winced slightly at the other's words. It was true he'd not yet proven himself among them, but he had come far in four years' time, much farther than most others his age. He moved across the room, wrapping his hands around the haft of the mace. the din of noise under the tent canvas grew quiet as the eyes of the other Tauren turned on him and Aran knew it was a test. When he began to lift the mace he realized why.

Clang! Blood-shot eyes opened at the sound of metal thudding into metal less than a few feet away. A shield bounced from the metallic wall of the inn and clamored to the ground nearby. He bared his teeth at the offending Dragonmaw Orc who'd thrown it.

"Got a problem, Peon?" The Dragonmaw asked when he caught sight of Aran's face. The stranger wore the badge of a Captain, and so Aran bit back his agitation and shook his head no. "Good." That Orc and another sat down in the makeshift inn, their voices joining with the noisees already so abundant around Aran.

'Just think of holding her... Breathing with her... Breathe Aran... Breathe...' It calmed him more to imagine Shari in the circle of his arms, though he never would have brought her to the place he rested in now. As he closed his tired eyes again he was briefly rewarded with the imagined feel of her mane tickling his nose, the smell of the Ocean it carried.... And then the hammers brought him back to the dream the shield had taken him from.

He strained his weight against the mace, but at nine years old the thing was just too heavy. With a grunt and the shift of his hooves he gathered momentum. The chuckles of the Tauren in the tent making him more determined to do as he'd been told. Sweat made an oily path along his skin from the heat trapped within the tent canvas and he tried not to let the mace slide, but slide it did and heavily thunked against the ground.

More laughter rang in the young calf's ears. He tilted them toward it, and then away, face drawn in a frown of concentration. His hands wrapped about the haft lower this time, more surely, but again the weight of the weapon combined with his sweaty grasp dragged it to the earth. Frustrated Aran began to pull it to a side to drag it over, but he didn't get far in the process.

Forge Master Hotah's hand came down on his shoulder, a grin split the bull's lips. "If you can't lift the hammer, you certainly can't make it, Boy. Get out of here before I send you on your way with a lump to show for your trouble."

Aran's lips parted in protest but his eye caught Hotah's other hand moving to the blacksmith hammer. Frowning, Aran let go the mace and nodded his ascent before walking from the tent.

The worked stone beyond the leather tent flaps announced Aranskah's passage with distinct clops from his footfalls. This mountain was not his favorite place.. And yet, within the arena he might find the plans to build the mace he'd once been told he couldn't.

Time had passed since then, years, and Aran's words had been proven true. He'd carved his life with his weapons, carved it from the lives of those he fought against. Now he would craft the mace that had meant the trade was learned outside of the Grimtotem. Leather lips curled in a snarl to reveal his teeth as the gates of the arena opened.

A particularly loud bout of laughter roused Aran from his sleep again, drawing his gaze back onto the Dragonmaw Captain and his companions. they were playing some game of chance, a small pile of pitiful trophies resting beside them. His temper grew shorter as he closed his dark eyelids again, trying to put them from his mind.

With each of the punctuating noises of their laughter and their foolhardy game the Tauren felt his lips curl more, til at last he heard one say, "I think we're disturbing our sleeping friend there."

The Captain's voice chuckled, "I'd say you're right." He heard the scrape of the Orc's armor, then felt a nudge against his boot. "On your feet, Orc."

Aran's eyes opened again at the nudge and he saw the smirking face of the captain looming above him, poorly aligned fangs gleaming by the awkward lighting that filtered into the dingy inn from the open doorway. Aranskah sighed and dragged himself to his feet, making sure to claim his weapon and shield as he did so.

The air between them was charged with animosity he had come to expect of these Orcs. Aran offered a salute and then moved to go outside. "Where do you think you're going?" The captain snarled.

Aran turned his gaze on the other, "Back to work, Captain."

"I didn't tell you to go anywhere, did I?" He asked, but Aran didn't get to answer. An Overseer's Booterang caught him in his right side and he felt his ribs crack slightly at the blow. The sharp exhale of the air in his lungs left him awash with pain, like ice and fire both mixed into his skin. Then another, and another. He could have fought back, could have put all three in their places, but doing so would have drawn the encampment's attention, and so he didn't. Instead he simply let them hit him and offered not a single whimper for their pleasure. Not a single yelp.

((This takes place on December 10th. Tis Short and Sweet in comparison to some of the earlier ones.))

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Day Three

Morning came too early after the night he'd had. His ribs ached in protest to the first stretch of his body, his breath fell heavily, a groan passed his lips. The Innkeeper was smirking at him as he pulled himself to his feet, sore all over from the night before. His armor had prevented much of the more serious injuries he would have incurred without it, but he was certain he had a black eye and at least two broken ribs. The armor hadn't cushioned his sleep any.

"Morning," the innkeeper rasped at Aran as he walked past. He inclined his head slightly, not wishing to incur any more trouble.

Immediately upon stepping outside the Netherwing Flight member that was disguised as a Goblin asked him to collect eggs if he could, and relics, and to poison the peon camps. He nodded groggily to the ally's hushed voice and felt himself spun around. "Netherwing Crystals. And mind your bruises." The Dragonmaw Orc probed his side at the last.

Aran sucked in a sharp breath of air and barely managed to keep from growling. His eyes were washed with anger as he inclined his head to the Orc and moved along. His anger would be vented on the Dragonmaw who trafficked the relics... And on their Ascendants... And on the flayers... For that day, at least...

((This also takes place on December 10th.))

((Using this color for his dream again.))

~~~~~~~~~~

Night Three

Aranskah couldn't help smirking at the Innkeeper, though even in his victory the smirk was almost hollow. He'd had such luck today among the flayers... Such yield from his rage. So many eggs had he handed over to the 'Dragonmaw Goblin' that he'd increased in rank. Two days only and he already carried the badge of an Overseer and more importantly, the Booterang of an Overseer. 'Captain might still be trouble, but I doubt it...'

His steps, while tired, carried a bit more confidence. The bruises of his sides seemed healed. They had been, healed by combat, by his enraged regeneration, his potions, his food, his bandages. He set his packs against the wall of the inn and leaned back into the corner again.

The sound of a particular voice carried through the open inn door. The voice of Rumpus. He was pretty certain the Orc had felt his gaze during his time in the encampment, but he had little care for that. Rumpus was the most likely of the vile company he kept to hold the object he was seeking. The hollow smirk on his lips faded as he listened to the voice. It was too far away to distinguish words, but Aran knew already the cost of the small trinket he sought would a precious one if this were handled poorly... For that reason he kept one Netherwing Egg in his bags. One egg to try and trade to the coward who sheltered in the camp so that he might claim some glory.

When at last his eyelids fell heavily closed, they were weighed down by guilt and worry. The sounds of the hammers didn't bother him then, nor the conversations of those Orcs who wandered into the inn throughout the night.

He knelt by the fallen corpse in the Ring of Law, fingers searching through it's possessions, and from them he pulled a rolled piece of parchment. 'Dark Iron Pulverizer.' His lips curled into a smile.

"Is that it, Boss?" Aran's gaze turned back on the Orcess who asked the question. He nodded his head once. "Sweet! I'm so sick of this f*ckin mountain."

A rumbling chuckle sounded from Aran's throat, "You would be, Rashka." Strong fingers gently stowed the plans into his packs as he spoke.

"She ain't the only one," another Orcess said, or rather, a half-Orcess.

Aran's red eyes turned on Jenkantu. She was the odd one out in their little adventuring group, the only one who didn't where his tabard. "I imagine she isn't, no," the Tauren responded. "I'm sure Mattias and Rahx aren't terribly fond of fighting in this ring at this point either," he gestured to the male Forsaken and female Troll in turn as he spoke. Each of which nodded their agreement.

"Least I'll get a new weapon out of this," Rashka said in her gruff voice.

"You a miner?" Jenkantu's softer voice asked, and Rashka shook her head to indicate that she was not. "Any of you?" She asked looking between the other three. Aran was the last to indicate he was not and Jen gave him a very bright and calculating smile, a smile that didn't belong on an Orc's face. "You know, we could work something out."

Aran's brow raised in amusement as Rahx moved closer, "Yuh not workin' any'ting out wit him," the Troll said as she drew between them.

"Down girl," Aran spoke with a chuckle.

To this Rahx turned her gaze on him, blue eyes narrowed, "Watch it, mon. Mi an' da Loa be what keepin' yuh standin' when mi be healin' yuh."

Aranskah laughed and would have spoken, but the half-orc cut in, "I don't want anything like that from him. I don't think I'd be able to stand him."

The bull's red eyes turned on her appraisingly, an amused smile on his leathery lips, "Oh, Jenkantu? Then what would you be wanting to work out?"

"I was thinking something more along the lines of business, Tauren. I mine, you make weapons... Or cut gems. I'm really not particular, but you see, once I've mastered the explosives we know of I'll only be able to do so much about making more... I end up with a lot of ore that doesn't really have a use..."

"Mm," Aran nodded, his braids clanking briefly against his breastplate from the motion, "I like the sound of this, Half-Orc.... Keep talking...."

As he dreamt a smile with some authenticity found its way onto the Bull's lips. Friendship could do that even when it was born out of the hunt for profits.

((December 11))

Day Four

Red eyes opened on a dingy little inn whose walls bore dents and scrapes from the armor of its patrons. It had been his home for the past two nights, and not a very comfortable one; the Orcs outside were prattling about something. He pulled himself to his feet with labored movements and lifted his belongings from the ground beside him. Walking toward the open door brought the voices closer and a name was dancing on their lips. 'Sinestra.'

As they chattered the orcs cast their gaze to the south, and when Aran followed it he briefly caught a glimpse of the cause for all of their excitement. A member of the black dragon flight near in size to Onyxia was walking toward the camp, though in less than a moment's time she'd changed her form, abandoning her wings in favor of an elven frame that carried her more easily through the wooden barricades and small buildings of the Dragonmaw. Aran watched the dragon pick her passage through the orcs, and imagined palpable evil hovering around her in his tired gaze. In truth she looked just as another denizen found within the Dragonmaw Encampment, but knowing what she was darkened her in his eyes.

Careful steps brought him to the Goblin who had identified himself as an ally. More camps he wanted poisoned, more relics collected. Aran nodded to his requests and turned to face one of the Dragonmaw. The crystals this one requested were a trivial matter when rage carried the warrior through the mines. He had all thirty in his bags already and handed them over with little concern. One of the others called him over saying, "Hey, Overseer."

Aran inclined his head to the Orc he'd been speaking to and walked toward the one by the pit. "Yes?"

The Orc waved his Booterang at Aran. "Got a whole mess of peons out there need the boot, Aranskah. You're the Orc to handle it." Aranskah offered him a lifeless smirk, a smirk that would have carried disdain and pleasure had he been in a better state. The Orc didn't seem to note, or perhaps he didn't care. His only response was to clap Aran on the shoulder, "That'a Orc!"

Again he turned, careful steps leading him back near Overlord Mor'ghor's command structure, and there he lingered, eyes passing over Rumpus and the forges as he listened.

The elf's voice rolled off her tongue as she spoke, "You were once a chief lieutenant, Mor'ghor. Your work in Grim Batol is not easily forgotten. Now... We need the eggs that you recovered. The Netherwing eggs. They are, after all, a product of the master. We will pay whatever price that you ask."

"Ye... Yes, yes... Of course," the Overlord stammered, "We need only the crystals and ore from this place. There is... We will need mounts."

'Interesting... Especially considering Mor'ghor's normal demeanor.' The tired wheels in Aran's head turned and his eyes settled on Rumpus. Any doubts that a single egg might be enough to purchase the object of his desire from the fel orc was now gone. 'With an egg to purchase favor from the black dragon flight.. Surely I've little to worry about... And yet... I would be handing a creature from those which I've sworn a blood oath too into the hands of their enemies..' His gaze turned on the Goblin and he pulled his lower lip between his teeth. 'I can't do that... Though I could say I would to get it in my possession... If I handle it right..'

Lady Sinestra's voice cut into his thoughts, "...for your graciousness, Mor'ghor," it had been sounding for some time, but Aran hadn't really heard it at first, mind too busy turning over the new information he had gathered, "I must now take my leave."

The bull moved out of the way of the command building, not wanting to invoke her ire or draw her attention. He made his way to the forge and purchased repairs to his armor, eyes following Sinestra as she made her way south again. The form of a hulking, black dragon was silhouetted against the dark sea that was the twisting nether as he watched, and then she was gone. 'No wonder they value the eggs so highly...' Another long day of battle lay before Aran, and the goal he had set would mean that it must be drawn out. To become a Captain this day would require many eggs to be seen trading hands with the Goblin. Aran was only thankful that the little creature was a friend in the camp of wolves; without him the road would have been much longer.

((December 11.))

~~~~~~~~~~

Night Four

He came back to the Dragonmaw encampment in the late evening, his third return that day. The bull carried packs full of crystals, eggs, and ravager parts. The parts he sold, the crystals he kept to bargain with, and the eggs... He gave most of them to the Goblin. It was a quiet night in the camp, relatively speaking, and Aranskah had the feeling he might get lucky enough to catch Rumpus alone.

He made idle conversation with an Orc he'd come to know as Gug. An Orc who had shown him little attention at all on his first day there, but who now seemed keen to his every word. Probably because he had been so fortunate in his hunt for eggs. For a time their conversation was about Armor, the making of it versus the repairing of it. It came to a premature stop at the sound of Taskmaster Varkule's voice, "Ey, Overseer." Aran looked toward the fel orc, "That's right, you." He nodded to Gug and walked toward the Taskmaster a bit warily. When Aran drew close to Varkule the fel orc gave him a close look-over and spoke with a sneer, "Well, well, well... still alive I see. That's good, because Mor'ghor has requested your presence in his tower at once. Get a move on! "

Aranskah snapped a quick salute and made haste to the tower that was only a few feet away. Before he could even salute the Overlord, Mor'ghor spoke, "Stand tall, Captain." Aran's salute went off, though his eyes were colored slightly with confusion. The Overlord nodded and continued, "That's right, I said captain. You've earned another promotion, Aranskah. You certainly don't work like any fel orc I've ever seen. Keep this up and you might make overlord some day. Now get out there and take command."

Aranskah inclined his head, his voice a deep rumble with a mixture of some amusement in its largely soulless tone, "With pleasure, Overlord." He turned to go, briefly wondering how the tone of his voice was being interpreted by the Dragonmaw.

Mor'ghor spoke again as Aran was passing the threshold of the tower, "I would suggest you try and earn your Skybreaker wings."

The Taskmaster must have overheard because he gave a dark chuckle, "A Captain now, hmm? Yes, why don't you try to earn your Skybreaker Wings, Captain Aranskah." The fel orc gestured to another orc, an orc who sat atop a netherwing dragon in heavy armor. For walking near this orc, General Ja'y Nosliw, Aran had received a thunk from a booterang. To the Taskmaster Aran offered only an odd-looking smile. He turned away from Taskmaster Varkule and Yarzill the Merc, approaching Rumpus instead.

"You need something, Captain?" Rumpus asked, arms folded. He appeared clearly nonplussed by Aran's rank.

Aran let his right hand rest on his left arm and rubbed there with his thumb. Then nodded, "Suppose I do... but it's something not from your usual merchandise?" He spoke softly.

Rumpus' beady eyes seemed to gleam, "Then it's got a special price.. One I'm not sure you can afford.. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.. What exactly are you after." Aranskah smirked and leaned in close to Rumpus, whispering in his ear, then drew away again. The fel orc appeared to have drained of some of his color, though he regained it quickly enough, skilled as he was with manipulation. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said neutrally.

"I think we both know that's not true, Rumpus." Aranskah countered, hand resting on the haft of his axe. He could see the fel orc's eyes following his motions, and so he tapped the axe's haft, punctuating his silent threat.

After a time Rumpus said, "Maybe we do." He looked around the camp conspiratorially and nodded slowly, speaking softly to Aran, "Even if I had one I doubt you'd have anything to offer me to make it worth my while, Captain."

Aran's brows came together, "Maybe... I was thinking a Netherwing Egg might be worth your while... After all, the dragonflight seems pretty keen on them." It was news to Rumpus, which made Aran shake his head, "Not a very good thief are you, Rumpus?"

The fel orc snorted, "Who says they're of interest?" He asked quietly.

"Lady Sinestra.. And in such a manner as to put Overlord Mor'ghor to stuttering. That's interest if I've ever heard it." Tap. Tap. Tap. His fingers clinked against the metal of his axe.

Rumpus considered him closely before saying, "Alright.. so I might have what you want.. in stock, so to speak... But one egg, one measly egg. That won't buy me anything... So that won't buy you anything. I think the price is set closer to ten eggs." At Aran's visible displeasure Rumpus only smiled, "What, you think a Captain's Badge and a Booterang would cow someone like me? Clearly you don't know who you're dealing with, Aranskah."

Aran gritted his teeth, a snarl trying to sound in his throat. It was all he could do not to let it, he didn't want undue attention. "I'll keep that in mind," he said softly, and then in a normal speaking voice, "Thank you for your services." He turned on his heel and made his way toward Ja'y Nosliw, the Skybreaker General.

Aran watched as General Ja'y reached for his booterang, but interjected before he put it to use, "General, how does an honest orc go about earning their Skybreaker Wings?"

The general's hand stilled on its path to the booterang and his lips curled in a smile. "An honest orc? He doesn't." He regarded Aran for a time, and when he finally seemed to accept that Aran wasn't going to walk away he continued, "So you wanna join the Skybreakers, eh? You've certainly proven yourself an able Dragonmaw but that means nothing in the skies of Outland. The question has to be answered: CAN YOU FLY?"He paused for emphasis, eying Aran before continuing, "And I don't just mean being able to mount up on a nether drake and delivering a shipment of crystals to the fort like those transporter scrubs. I'm talking about being the best... The top orc... Over to the west there are six riders. Defeat them all and I will grant you Skybreaker wings."

He heard the chuckle of the Taskmaster, but ignored it. "As you say, General." When Aranskah turned and walked toward the riders he caught sight of Rumpus wearing a smirk as well. 'Let's hope I fly as well as I like to think...'

~~~~~~~~~~

Five races behind him and one left to go. Aranskah had been outmaneuvered once by Wing Commander Ichman, but on the second go around hadn't had a spot of trouble. He now walked alongside Captain Skyshatter, who had boastfully announced Aranskah's pending death to the entire encampment, but Aran had too much reason to be there to let that come to pass.

Skyshatter took his time walking up the skyway, pausing at the end long enough to say, "I weep for you, Aranskah. You really have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."

Aran cast a sideways glance at Skyshatter, and then it had started. He flew forward, following the Orc's path through the sky, and very quickly came to realize just how serious Skyshatter had been about his meteors. A barrage came down from the sky, no where near the Captain. 'F*ck,' Aran veered sharply to the left, managing barely to avoid all of the meteors. He watched over his shoulder for the captain, and was thankful to see him coming back toward the camp. Aran took off down the skyway, keeping his eyes on his opponent and on the skies. It proved a challenging race.

Twice Captain Skyshatter doubled back completely, if only for a few moments' time. The sky was rent with heat and earth, and all of it traveled toward Aranskah. His cobalt drake in its disguise cursed more than once at the sharp turns, rolls, and climbs Aran demanded from it. She went so far as to snap her fangs backward at him once just in time to catch the feel of little Orc feet in her sides, driving her hard back. When she looked forward she saw that a meteor had just cleared her head and she let go her agitation, more concerned with surviving the challenge.

Four times they crossed the skyway. The first to start the race, the second when he doubled back, a third time on his way through the camp again, and a fourth... A fourth time as he ended it, as Skyshatter admitted his defeat in an anguished yell, "I... I am undone... The new top Orc is Aranskah!"

He almost didn't recognize what the words meant, so ready was he for another volley of meteors as he sat atop his drake, panting, but no further volleys came. He breathed deeply, looking to Skyshatter and saw the Orc retaking his place with the other riders. "By Elune.. that was trying." Aranskah murmured on the skyway.

His cobalt companion looked back at him, some semblance of resentment and affection mingled in her eyes. She nodded, letting the resentment go, "If you ever... ever put me through something like that again... We may need to redefine our relationship."

Aranskah chuckled, a tinge of genuine amusement in his tired, taxed voice, "Perhaps." He slid from her back, patting her side, and watched as she took to the sky. He made his way from the skyway to the Skybreaker General, who was staring at him through his entire approach. Aranskah gave him a sharp salute, the appraisal in the orcs' eyes not lost on the bull.

Eventually Ja'y licked his lips and said, "I never dreamed any would be skilled enough to defeat Skyshatter. You do know what this means, right? You are now the top orc! You must defend your title."

Aranskah bowed his head, "As you say, Sir."

"Here," the general said, tossing a lash at Aran. The bull caught it reflexively and looked over it. It was incredibly well-made. Burned into the handle were the words, 'Property of the Top Orc'.

He smiled at the General, another hollow smile, "Thank you, General."

The general wrinkled his nose a little, "Go on and get out of here before I hit you with my booterang, Captain." He grumbled.

Aran inclined his head and walked away, toward the command tower, though he veered left near the entrance. He held the whip in his right hand and let the tip of it rest against the ground very near Rumpus' boot. The fel orc was a little bothered, though he did well in not showing it blatantly. Aran sneered, "Well then... we'll talk more later, hm?" The hollow tone in his voice served him well in this instance, making his intentions nigh unreadable. Rumpus nodded slowly.

The hour was very late, much later than he'd intended. The bull turned from his target and made his way back to their metallic inn, stowing the whip in his packs. He pulled the packs from his shoulders and laid them against the inn's wall before settling in his usual corner opposite the door and let his eyes fall closed. So tired was he on this particular evening that no dreams visited him, or at least none he would remember in great detail... All he could really distinguish was the presence of the scent of the sea and a warmth against his chest.

((December 12))

~~~~~~~~~~

Day Five

Aranskah looked around the occupants of Shadowmoon Village with what was an almost alien curiosity. The sense of an outsider gazing upon a family, and yet.. they were Horde as readily as he. He shook his head from side to side and the heavy braids of his mane followed the movement, clanking against his breastplate. 'Ugh.. So many flayers... So many yet to kill.' He reached into his bags and drew out the Netherwing Crystals he'd been stowing, over two thousand of them. With a sigh the bull dropped them to earth and shattered them. Only the Taskmaster seemed to be able to unbind them and the bastard would only accept thirty crystals in a day. 'Makes no f*ckin sense.'

Dogged steps carried him to the flight master and he bowed, "Shattrath, Please."

"Of course if you have the coin for it," the flight master replied.

Aran nodded and drew some gold from his coin bag, letting it fall uncounted into the flight master's hand. Soon after he was riding to Shattrath, leaving behind the dark and vile atmosphere of Shadowmoon... at least in the physical realm. The weariness the place instilled in him clung to him, or perhaps that was from the troubled sleep he'd gotten the last few nights. Kat had made her point in the most efficient way.

'Not going to do me any good to be angry with the b*tch... Even if I am.. If I fight her I lose Shari... If I don't join them... I lose Shari... If I do join them.. I betray my heart for Shari.' It was foul, pure foul circumstance, and had Aran known the cost of loving Shari'Adune he never would have let himself get to know her. The knowledge sat heavily in his mind, heavily over his heart, and as the wings of the wind rider brought him to a land in Shattrath he couldn't help thinking, 'Thank the Goddess I didn't know then what I know now.'

A heavy sigh passed his lips as he made his way to the Adlor Bank. The bull rested a piece of parchment against the counter near the front, nodding to the teller who offered assistance if he required it.

-December 12-

Khazgral,

I require certain things if you would be willing... Things for a particular endeavor I'm undertaking. Most are within the realm of possibilities for you to obtain, so I'll list them here:

Khorium Power Core   qty. 1
Adamantite Frame     qty. 1
Felsteel Bars        qty. 2

If you come across any of the above please return them with a price included.

Thank you, Friend,
Aranskah

He folded the letter and sealed it before approaching the mailbox. When he opened it he saw a number of messages waiting for him within. 'Oh.. Well then...' The bull sent his letter on its way before taking those things that had been awaiting him and their attached packages. When he opened the packages his brow furled. 'What in Elune's graces?'

It was a mineral.. of some kind. He opened the letter and read it to himself.

-December 11-

Rhome,

Found a sh*t-ton of this Obsidium Ore in Vashj'ir. Turned it into bars for ya. Think our friend Iressi needs some new equipment, thought you might too. Make what you can from it for the both of ya and turn the rest into something for the elf to break, hm? Send it along as you can, I kept what I need for my purposes, of course.

Love,
Khaz

P.S. Don't be an ass. Shari misses you.

A chuckle spilled past his lips, the first genuine one in some time at reading the note. It faded quickly at the last words, but that glimpse of light-hearted friendly conversation put a bright spot on the dark hours of his days. He looked at the bars again and nodded to himself, putting what Khaz had sent into his packs.

'Shari misses me...' It brought a smile to his lips, though that had been assumed all along. 'Don't be an ass though, I wonder what she's afraid I'll do...' He considered that for a time as he flew to the Aldor Landing and made his way to the forge. The blacksmith was more than happy to instruct him in working Obsidium... at a cost. 'Vashj'ir.. I'll have to ask about that later.'

Much of the day was yielded to the purpose of crafting armor for himself and for Iressi, much more would be yielded to the Dragonmaw. The further he rose in their ranks the more room he had to put Rumpus in his place. The equipment he made and sent to Iressi without so much as a word about why or how he'd come by it. He honestly didn't think about that and even if he had Khaz was pretty good about keeping people informed when it came to money... And in this case it came to her money, though Aran wasn't sure how in the end. 'Maybe she's going to sell the components.'

He put it from his thoughts. As he made his way from the blacksmith's corner of Aldor Rise his eyes lingered on the inn. 'Real beds... Warmth...' The bull pulled his lower lip between his teeth and shook his head, turning to leave. His cobalt drake answered his call, but when he climbed onto her back she only carried him to the doorstep. "Go sleep," her serpentine voice cooed. Aran looked at her, objecting, but she shook her head, "Just rest a while, it won't hurt anything."

The Tauren was torn, but fatigue washed over him so close to real beds, to good food, to warmth and blankets. "Fine," he murmured sleepily, climbing from her back again. With a yawn he pinned his golden ring to his thumb and magically changed from his armor to much more comfortable slacks, and then he was walking inside. He paid the innkeeper and moved to the back room, tired eyes half-closed long before he touched the mattress, and when he did the world of sleep claimed him swiftly.

((December 12.))

((Dreams again.))

~~~~~~~~~~

Night Five

Khaz had gotten back to Aran quickly. The very same afternoon. The note was written in more precise handwriting than he remembered her having. So was the note he'd found with all the obsidium bars. The content was a whole three lines:

Here's your order.
Offer to pay me again and our arrangement ends.
Now, where the f*ck have you been the past few days?

With the frame and power core there was no reason to sign the note, Aran knew, but the fact that Khaz hadn't was a small tell of agitation on her part. He'd put the items to use that very day to carry out the requests of Illidari Lord Balthas, and had seen the power of the weapon he'd crafted on the Lord's behalf. Now he sat with the note in his hand, back in the crummy little inn the Dragonmaw so enjoyed. His eyes ran over the lines time and time again and he sighed heavily. 'Where I have been I will not tell.. To do so would only endanger others.'

Only one other such as he had Aran met thus far, a Tauren also, in disguise as he was. They got along well enough once they'd both realized, and he had come to know this Tauren to be Jysdril... One which he had met briefly before. No one else would know Aranskah's whereabouts, for Aran had sent word to Iressi to claim the collar from Shari'Adune, and without his hearthstone that collar would be the only indication of where he might be unless you stared at him in the flesh.

His eyes slowly closed as he leaned back into the corner of the inn he had slept in so many times. 'I grow more weary with each passing day. Kat said these things can cause memory loss... Wouldn't it be ironic if she forgot me...'

"It would, wouldn't it?" Machk's voice cut the darkness and Aran opened his eyes. His cousin stood before him in Thunder Bluff, Sumiratana sitting at his heels beside the walkway to the lift. The rain was coming down in cold tears of the sky, sizzling and popping in their camp fire.

"Excuse me?" Aranskah asked, put off-balance by the other bull's words.

"It would be ironic if she left you," Machk said, sightless eyes and leather lips drawn into a cold smile.

"She won't leave me, she loves me," Aranskah stated plainly.

Machk chuckled, and Sumi remained oddly quiet, "She'll twist your heart, Brother," his words were dark, angry. "She'll turn you as she did me, and then cut you from her like a weakness culled."

Aranskah shook his head, turning his gaze on Sumiratana, "It's not true, is it, Sumi?"

Sumiratana, in her lion form, tilted her head to a side, "Maybe not, but the family comes first, Cousin. She won't choose you."

Aran looked between the two, Machk, still chuckling. Sumi dipped her nose to her paws, beginning to clean them idly. Shari had been here, had run off in her cheetah's skin only minutes before. He stood and turned to look for her, but the rain outside the circle of their campfire was too deep, too heavy. All he could see was the downpour. "The elements are at unrest, Brother. You'll never find her out there." Machk said darkly.

Aran turned his gaze back on his cousin, anger bubbling in his heart, "Why?" He asked, challenging.

"Because I've lost everything to this.. And now you will follow in my wake," Machk responded, and to Aran's surprise Sumiratana faded from his side. "We've a score to settle, don't we?" Machk asked, moving closer.

Aran's ears flicked to the hiss of the fire and back toward Machk, "You said you were leaving the Grimtotem."

Machk snarled, "It's not about the Grimtotem, Brother. It's about us." Somehow he was only inches away now. Where the fire had been between them before was only the soaked grass of Mulgore, "Watch your back now, Brother. You never know when I'll be at it."

And as quickly as Sumi had, Machk faded away. Aran turned, looking for them both, but there was nothing. The downpour grew heavier and his gaze passed toward where the ramp of the Lift had been, but all he could see was the wash of gray from the rain. 'I have to find her.. I have to find her now..'

There was such urgency in the dream, such urgency he sprang forward, moving into the torrent and standing against its heavy weight, ignoring it. The ground was slick from rain, the dirt turned to mud. Before he had made it more than a handful of steps his mighty hooves sank and slid. Through the dim haze of raindrops he could see a cliff face, and so he twisted falling with a painful, wet, 'Thwuck' against the earth and sliding still. His nails dug at the ground, grasping for grass roots, but they tore free so easily from the mud that they may as well have been free of it before he even touched them.

His hooves scraped uselessly in the earth, his nails pulled free tuft after tuft of grass, and then it fell away, or rather he did. The cliff face came and went and he was falling, falling through the air. Each drop of rain beating against him sent him faster toward the earth that lie in wait. As he writhed and turned he found himself on his back, looking up at rainy skies. She was in them... the raven. Shari in her raven form. He opened his lips to call for her, but the sound was lost in the downpour. Her wings seemed to beat so effortlessly against the rain, nature's embrace of her presence... Nature's wrath against his.

'Even this.. would separate us...' His fleeting thoughts before he felt himself crash into the earth.

((December 13))

~~~~~~~~~~

Day Six

He woke with a start, breathing heavy, eyes wide. Horus was smirking down at him, fingers pressed into his shoulder. "Having a bad dream, Captain?"

It all came back, clear as a memory, as a slap in the face. 'It wasn't real..' Aran told himself, trying to come to senses. 'It felt real, but it wasn't real. It was a dream, all a dream.' Horus's grin grew and Aran remembered his circumstances. His hand fumbled, shaking slightly, for his booterang and he brought it hard into Horus' arm. "Get your filthy mitts off me, Horus," Aran snarled. all the humor faded from Horus' face and he nodded, backing away quickly.

Aran pulled himself to his feet, heart still throbbing from the fall and the desperation of his dream. He collected his things and left the inn swiftly, snarling at Horus in his route. The usual tasks were asked of him, which he accepted without complaint, and he set off for the far reaches of Netherwing Ledge.

Soon enough he found himself in the caves again. The comfort of the flayer presence being that it provided some seclusion from the Dragonmaw's watchful eyes. He had laid the collection of the hard-shelled aliens to rest in this particular switchback and he sat now, precariously perched on an abandoned mining cart. His packs rest within the cart, one lying open.

Aranskah held three things in his lap. The first was a small Blue Pearl. The second a piece of fine leather, softened with great care. The third, a small glass vial containing the fragrance Shari had made him. 'She's not leaving me... She's not.' He breathed slowly, letting the scent on either side of his neck grant him comfort. 'Nor is Machk turned so hateful... Nor is Sumi so callous..' His eyes turned down at the bags in the cart and he frowned. Within one of those was a parchment Machk had sent him, a letter sealed in blood. The words within were not unlike those his cousin had spoken in the dream. 'Stop this. Stop it now.'

No sounds reached him from the mines save those of the flayers that inhabited this portion of it. The bull sighed, though the sound was an Orc's thanks to his magical disguise. "What kind of wretch am I to fear losing her so much? How pitiful have I become?" He leaned his great head forward into his hand and massaged his temples. 'There's nothing weak about caring for someone.. Nothing pitiful...' He told himself, breathing deeply of the poor air within the mines.

'And if she doesn't love you?' His breathing paused as the offensive thought nibbled at his heart. Before he could even form a coherent dismissal of it the line of thought continued, 'She would choose the family.. She would have you choose the family.. Can she love you if she does not accept your love? Can she truly love you if she could so easily cast you aside?'

Aran couldn't believe himself. His eyes cast about the dark mine as if searching for the person whose voice he was hearing in his mind. 'Rediculous. I would never make her choose.'

That part of him, so dark and angry, perhaps the fragments of the Grimtotem's efforts which remained in his soul responded, 'And so you will never really know where her heart lies.'

Aran bared his teeth, his nails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists. The smell of blood reached his nose, 'I know already.' He forced himself to breathe deeply and slowly, an effort at dispelling the dark mood that had come over him. In the past days he had done so much that he never would have. He'd sworn a blood oath to protect the Netherwing and then considered selling their eggs for the item he sought, he'd fought the burning legion in the name of the Dragonmaw orcs, he'd even let them beat him, let himself suffer when he could have fought the three attackers off. His hands were shaking in rage, in rage and despair. His eyes fell upon the three precious objects in his lap and he lifted them to put them away. The leather caught on the mining cart and before Aran could react the small glass bottle slid from the cradle the fabric had made.

He practically threw himself off the cart in an effort to get to the ground before it, but he was too slow and the only reward for the awkward pain of falling hard against the broken mining tracks set into the earth was the wave of strong scent that poured forth as the glass shattered against the same. "N-no.." He moved his fingers toward it awkwardly, the sight of the little glass fragments glinting in the darkness a very haunting one. 'Shari..'

It was symbolic of so many things.. How anger could take her from him.. How rashness could.. How he couldn't let that happen. 'She would choose the family... and so must I...' The thought did not bring a smile to the bull's tired lips, but it did dispel the darkness in his heart. Or at least it symbolized the moment that he felt the darkness lift. Losing her would have been too great a price. And why not? Why not put the whole before the individual?

Still old wounds lingered, even if he no longer truly resented the decision he had been faced with. Now there was just fear... 'Because the whole was always what broke in the past... The individual was all that stayed true...'

((December 13))

((Dreams again.))

~~~~~~~~~~

Night Six

Sleep wouldn't come as Aran sat there. On the ground in the inn was the small portion of leather, and resting atop it the broken glass. Horus had already given him a strange look over them, but a single snarl had set the innkeeper to minding his own business again. Aran frowned as he sat there, back pressed into the cold corner of the structure. 'It was just an accident..' Still, something in his mind felt the bottle's shatter had been symbolic. 'Even if it was more than that.. She's not gone yet.'

Khaz's words ran through his mind again, Don't be an ass. Shari misses you.

'At the very least... I don't think she's gone yet..' His lower lip slid between his teeth and he chewed at it a bit, eyes still fixed to the glinting shards of glass. The scent of Earthroot, Firebloom, and Sanguine Hibiscus lingered on the cloth, though what he'd applied to himself had long since been lost to the scents of combat. How long had he known her? He couldn't remember for certain, though he knew it was but a short time. Love had never been something Aran had expected to act so swiftly. Rather it was something he had believed would grow over a long period of time, friendship becoming more and being forged stronger by trials along the way.

'This has certainly had its trials...' His mind turned time back to when he first met Shari, outside the ruins of Zul'Gurub, fretting about being late for a venture inside. Her group had left her and he was there at Khaz's bidding, to search out potential mineral wealth... Of course, at that time Khazgral had still been known as 'Jenkantu'. 'Thank you for sending me there, Jenkantu.' He thought again. Shari had gone with him, trusting him to protect her from the denizens within even then, and the two had brought down the priest who supposedly held the magical reins required to tame a tiger. 'She wanted one so badly.....'

Something about Shari, the way she was then, the way she was now... She'd wound herself so tightly around his heart that the bull had quickly found himself having a hard time seeing straight in her presence. He pressed the air from his lungs through his nose and shook his head from side to side before letting it fall back against the metallic wall with a heavy thunk. 'I wonder if she's missed me... If waking in the morning has found her.. fearful.. lonely.' It tore at his heart as he rested there.

He drew in a slow breath and let his eyes fall closed, imagining the warmth of her small body against his, the weight of her on his arms, the press of her fingers to chest, the tangle of her mane about his hands, the smell of her coat where he pressed his nose to it. Water brimmed under his closed eyelids and it was all he could do to hold onto the image and not let the tears pass. 'A week only.. A week.. And tomorrow is the last day... Tomorrow night.. the last night... How could I get so bent out of shape?'

Of course he knew the answer to that as well. Without opening his eyes he took hold of the small leather cloth he'd begun using to polish gems and lifted it by the corners. The shards of glass trapped within the leather clinked softly, almost like coins or chimes, as they pooled together at the bottom of their cradle. 'I have to sleep... It will be a long day...' And indeed the morning held the promise of a trying day.. The promise of pain, time, and frustration. He breathed deeply through his nose again and gently placed the leather bundle into his packs, still keeping his eyes closed.

'Find your rhythm, Aranskah. The same rhythm you've offered to Shari'Adune so many times. She doesn't need someone who will break over losing her.' The thought felt particularly hard to Aran, but it was true. Shari needed certainty, and right now he was being anything but that. 'Perhaps why I couldn't help her in Teldrassil...' A chill started in his heart as a vision of her looking so distant filled his mind's eye. The image haunted him as he sat there, persisting until he finally drifted off to sleep.

The water ran past them swiftly in the strange land of the elves. It was like Ashenvale, but even with the Horde presence there, Aran had not lingered long in that land. Water was calming to her, it was what brought her back before, but now it offered nothing. He held her into him, and she made no struggle, but her arm was crooked, holding some imaginary thing within, and her humming... When his tears reached her through the veil of her waking dream she would respond, reaching out to touch him gently, to pet him even, soothing, and speaking in strange, soft words from a tongue he did not know.

"You should have lost her then."

His ears turned up and he realized he'd been dreaming, but where he was he could not place. His red eyes cast about, searching for the source of the voice. All that greeted his gaze was the green of the grass below his hooves, the light dancing around him, indistinct and without a true source. "What?"

"She is Mine."

He shook his head to the female voice, unsure whose it might be, "She is theirs, and you are not one of them." A soft chuckle, the tinkling of bells or perhaps of glass, reached his ears.

"She is Mine, Aran, trust in that."

A silhouette in the light. He tried to see, tried to move closer, but the light was all around. It cast no shadows, it bore no source. 'Elven...?'

Rhome lifted a hand to his brow to shield his eyes. The bright flash of a flare went off only a short distance from them. "Rashka, watch where you put those things."

The Orcess chuckled in her gravely tone to Rhome's lectures, "Boss, you want me to find the assassins or to mind your pretty eyes?"

Rhome grumbled about there being no assassins in the Core to his knowledge, but so low were the words they may as well have been a growl, and then moved himself forward, eyes following the fiery passage of Baron Geddon as he drew near. "Fall back to the others, Rashka. I'll be coming shortly." He spoke over his shoulder. Rashka nodded and went and Rhome remembered too keenly what would happen when he reached the end of the tunnel.

He tried to change it, to turn and follow her, but he couldn't alter his course in the dream. He took a single shot at Geddon and ran as quickly as he could down the tunnel, hooves scraping the earth as he did. He came out, face to face with the empty room of Garr, and Geddon quickly put him down. He didn't quite kill the Tauren outright, but rather left him to die from the flames that licked his flesh.

Still clinging to the vestiges of awareness, Aran felt the fiery baron lift the sword from his grasp. 'Th-thunderfury...' He lifted his injured head with what effort he could and looked up at Geddon, eyes full of hate, but to his dismay the elemental was already making his way back into the tunnels of Molten Core. 'Wh-why..?'

Footsteps echoed in the cavernous expanse, bouncing off the walls and the fallen corpses of Molten Giants, Core Hounds, and elementals of earth and fire. His weary gaze turned again to rest on the source. 'Rahx.' The Troll priestess crossed the distance from where she must have been watching, a smile playing on her lips. "Yuh tink mi was jokin', Rhome? Yuh neva gonna forget dis one." His brow raised in confusion as his long-time friend... more than friend really... pressed one of her boots into the seared skin of his hand, "Yuh an' dat half-orc. Yuh happy now? Mi tinks not. Yuh lost yuh precious sword too."

Blood gurgled in his throat as he fought to speak, and one word made it past the liquid, "Why?"

Rahx cackled, her voice a sharp echo in the caverns. "Yuh gonna wonder about dat for da rest of yuh life. Mi need to get going now though, mon"

Her hands glowed white in the darkness as she prepared to heal him. Rhome didn't understand. Then the searing pain of holy energy sent his ghost reeling from his corpse a few moments before Geddon's slow-killing handiwork would have.

The Spirit Healer washed him in a feeling of light and his body reformed there, aching, sore. How long had it been since he'd returned to life this way? It was quite a day to be the first. Hellfire Peninsula spread out before him, as far as he could see. 'She'll feel so bad for this...' His thoughts were of his Cobalt Drake, the drake who'd gotten caught in some kind of pull in the Twisting Nether and fallen downwards in heavy spikes until he'd lost his grasp.

'Even the nether seems to play to that woman's whim..' Aran speculated, an image of Kat and her derisive smile playing before his eyes. He took the magical reigns of his drake from his bags and called her too him. "Aran, I'm so sorry!" She said immediately, moving to press her scaly nose to his side.

"It's fine." His voice was dead, emotionless. If it hadn't been it would have carried too much sorrow in it, too much despair. She looked torn as she watched him through slitted eyes, but finally she nodded and moved so he could climb on her back, carrying him more carefully through the skies this time. His eyes fell closed as he took in a deep breath, a breath that brought to surface every pain in his newly recreated body. 'I deserve this.'

They opened again on the tables of the Salty Sailor. There, in the corner, sat Rahx, Rashka, and Mattias. The two women wore painfully cold expressions. Mattias' Forsaken face was as neutral as ever. "So you did show up," Rashka cooed in her gruff Orcish voice. "Have a seat, Boss." Rhome did as he'd been asked, sitting in the chair she'd indicated. "We were thinking, if you want to stay with The Hard Place, you're welcome to. After all, you started the charter, you brought us all together."

"Like fel I'll stay. What did you bring me here for?" His temper had risen sharply considering how Rahx, Rashka, and Mattias had organized their message to him.

"Mi was tinking yuh say someting along dem lines, Rhome," Rahx offered in one of her sweeter voices.

"We want the cache," Mattias said neutrally.

Rhome's brow rose as he regarded them, his lips curled in an amused smile, "Go f*ck yourselves, Pigs."

"You see... the brotherhood did much to collect all of those things.. That core leather, the crystals, the mineral wealth," Mattias went on calmly.

"They did, yeah, under my leadership. So go f*ck yourselves," he got to his feet and began turning toward the door.

"We'll tell that to Jenkantu then," Rashka said in her gruff voice.

Aran's ears flicked back toward the three, then he slowly turned to face them. "What?"

"Mi tinks she mean enough to yuh dat yuh lose da Brotherhood. She must be worth da askin' price," Rahx spoke in her sweet voice again.

Aran's lips curled into a snarl, though the noise of it was quelled long before it reached the open air, "You filthy, dirty," the bull moved toward her only to find a bruiser standing between them. He stopped his advance, veins bulging beneath his hide, "Fine, have the cache, I don't f*ckin care. You sweaty pigs aren't worth the blood in your veins." He removed a key from his keyring and threw it at them, angling it so it bounced off the table and toward the floor, but Mattias caught it.

"Thank you, Friend," the Forsaken spoke calmly. Aran turned and left the inn, his tail jerkily swaying behind him.

'How could I have been so wrong about them?' Only days later he'd found out that Jenkantu had disappeared. He'd confronted the three, but they claimed no part in it and he had no way to prove otherwise. For years he would blame himself for Jen's death, but eventually that sin was lifted from his shoulders.

The light came back, swirling, dancing, blinding. He couldn't see its source. The only other things he could see were the shadow of an elf and the grass below his feet.

"You have a choice to make, Aranskah Grimtotem."

He didn't turn his gaze toward her, instead looking down at the grass, staring into the scattered blades and forcing himself to breathe. The air here was clean at least, unlike the air in the mines of Netherwing Ledge. "The choice is made already."

The vision faded to darkness and the rest of the night passed without dreams for the bull.

((December 14))

~~~~~~~~~~

Day Seven

The day was spent in service of the Dragonmaw and the Netherwing. Morning had come slowly, and much thought and introspection had passed since then. Mor'ghor had seen fit to promote Aran to the rank of Commander. He still held the title of Top Orc among the Skybreakers. Now he had a plan for how to obtain the object he'd been here working so hard to get his hands on.

Heavy hoof-falls carried him toward the Dragonmaw Base Camp at a brisk pace. It served well that he was covered in the gore from the flayers and the black blood of draenor within the mines. The guards offered a crisp salute as he hustled past them and eventually came to rest before Rumpus. "Come quickly, Orc, your expertise is needed," Aran panted at the Fel Orc, calling on his near-exhaustion to add his tone and manner more authenticity.

Rumpus' bushy eyebrows came together as he scrutinized Aranskah. They'd not exactly been on the friendliest terms at their last conversation. "Is that so, Commander?" He asked, keeping his tone carefully polite in the presence of the Taskmaster and others gathered. "Tell me what for so I can better prepare."

'Just as I thought,' it was good that Aran had planned for this, "That sounds dangerously like you're questioning me, Orc. Ronag, one of our numbers, is in the mines below, poison in his veins. Now get moving, unless you want to see him meet his end." Aran pointed and watched as Rumpus grudgingly moved forward at a dash. The bull's eyes fell on Yarzill, whose expression was controlled but curious, and then he was chasing behind Rumpus, heading for the mines.

The Mistress let them pass, having already been fooled by Aran's tale on his way back to the base camp, and soon the two fel orcs made their passage along the wooden mining tracks. Below them the black blood of draenor followed strange paths through ground that trembled from the presence of the worms beneath it. He led Rumpus in deep, very deep. All the way to the switchback in which Ronag was found unconscious beside what remained of a modest meal. Aran had been sure the orc found a but of Yarzill's mutton in his packs and had conveniently come along at the right time to find him and run for his savior.

Rumpus looked genuinely surprised to see Ronag so disabled and set down his packs, pawing through them. "Not sure I have anything to help him.. Not really even sure what got to him." Rumpus' beady eyes turned on Aran suspiciously for a moment.

"Nor am I, Rumpus. Just do what you can unless you want Overlord Mor'ghor breathing down your neck," Aran responded calmly. He watched Rumpus work, uncaring if Ronag was saved or not, more focused on the Orc himself.

Eventually Rumpus did nurse Ronag back to consciousness and Ronag thanked them both for acting so quickly. Aran only nodded and began to lead Rumpus from the mines, though he didn't follow the same path they had to get in. They went up the wooden mining tracks and to the east, into the flayers' territory. Rumpus looked a little confused when he saw the first of the beasts and said, "We didn't pass these on the way in."

Aran turned his red gaze on the other fel orc and chuckled, "Of course not. They hadn't gotten back to their bodies at that point."

Rumpus didn't look completely convinced, but he did follow Aranskah into their territory, letting the warrior do all the fighting that came their way. Aran picked a nice, remote switchback to take Rumpus to, but before they'd quite reached it the Orc said, "A Netherwing Egg!" And started moving toward one.

Aran's axe came down very near Rumpus' wrist. "Ah, ah.." his deep voice rolled from his chest.

"What the fel are you doing? I saw it first!" Rumpus growled.

Aran nodded, pressing the blade to his flesh, "That you did, and it will be the last you see in this life if you don't pay attention." Rumpus' eyes fixed on Aranskah at the bull's words, and Aran smiled darkly, "You have something I want."

Rumpus raised his bushy brows and scoffed, "Something you want but won't get unless you have the eggs." He was sneering.

"Really?" Aran asked dryly, causing Rumpus' triumphant look to fade a little, "I've got you down here in these mines all by yourself... I know them better than you ever could. You think anyone would hear you if I cut into your flesh?"

Rumpus pulled his wrist from under the axe and Aran moved between the Orc and the egg. "I knew I couldn't trust you."

"I'm a Dragonmaw Orc. Of course you can't trust me, little worm," Aran growled at him, forcing his distance back long enough to bring to surface some real rage.

Rumpus' lips curled back with a snarl, "You're not getting it. You don't think I believe you'd kill me, do you? Not when you know I'd tell Mor'ghor the moment I got back."

'Perfect.' Aran stepped forward, his demeanor made him suddenly seem much larger than the Orc before him, "You would, would you? Tell him what... That you offered to sell to me a particularly useful bobble..? A bobble needed for our infiltration of the Horde? And for what, just shy of a dozen Netherwing Eggs to court favor with the Black Dragonflight?" His red lips curled into a cold and amused smirk, "I'd love to see you tell him that, Rumpus... Tell him that his recently appointed Commander and the top orc of the Skybreakers who just saved one of our most loyal members' lives turned on you in the mines." Rumpus looked furious, but Aran could sense that he was striking nerves left and right, "Do you know what I would tell him?"

It took the fel orc a moment to spit the words, "What, you pig?"

Aran's smirk relaxed into a dark smile, "That I recaptured that certain bobble before you could sell it to the next highest bidder. Regrettably I had to put you down to get it since you were so eager to get your pay at the expense of the Dragonmaw."

Rumpus' face visibly changed. The fury became less to the concern in his eyes. "You-" he started, searching for the words, scrambling even. Eventually he growled, "Fine, Commander. Have your prize, but don't think this is over." And with that Rumpus reached into his packs and drew out a small cloth pouch which he handled with great care.

Aran took it and opened the drawstrings long enough to peer inside at an object that was so dark it seemed to absorb even the dim light within the mine. Aran honestly had no idea if this was truly what he was looking for. Kat hadn't gone into much detail, but the way that Rumpus handled it and the way he was willing to protect it for all costs save his life made Aran pretty sure it was. He pulled the drawstrings closed again, a small snort of air washing through his nose. "Well then, I'm glad that's done with." Aranskah put the small bag into his gem pouch, all the while the eyes of Rumpus rested on him with murderous intent. "Go on and try if you like." Aran said casually as he turned his back to the orc and picked up the Netherwing Egg the other had spotted.

Rumpus' only response was a growl as he turned and followed Aranskah from the mines, reluctantly relying on the warrior's skills to keep him safe on their passage out. Once outside and in the presence of the Mistress of the Mines Rumpus said, "I'll see you back at camp, Commander." There was a dark edge to his voice and Aran bit into his lower lip.

'He's already planning something...' Aran thought as he watched Rumpus walk toward the Dragonmaw Base Camp. He moved away from the mine's mouth and called his drake to him. The pouch with its precious contents he took from the gem bag and handed to her. "Keep this safe for me, I get the feeling I'll have some trouble momentarily."

The drake gingerly took the pouch in her teeth before tucking it into one of the niches of her saddle and smiling a scaly smile at Aran, "You seem better."

Aran snorted a little, "Maybe. At least I got one damn thing accomplished." Her scaly nose touched his arm in response before she flew away.

Night was falling in Shadowmoon Valley. If not for his familiarity with Netherwing Ledge, Aran might have had trouble finding his way back to the Dragonmaw Camp despite the meteors and the strange lights of the Twisting Nether, but at this point he knew it far too well for that.

((December 14.))

((You guessed it. Dreams. ))

~~~~~~~~~~

Night Seven

Each step the Tauren took made him smile a little more. 'This is the last night.. The last night without her breathing in my arms, the last night without her heartbeat, without her coat, without her smell, her smile..' He breathed out through his nose as his tense muscles relaxed; the bobble was safely away in the possession of his drake and the encampment just didn't seem that threatening, even if Rumpus had been scheming as he'd made his way there.

The guards offered him a crisp salute, which he returned as he made his way past the wooden spikes protruding from the ledge's soil. The building of the inn lay on his right, oddly quiet, the forge on his left, and then Mor'ghor's voice carried from the command tower, "Comander Aranskah, get in here!"

'Here we go,' Aran thought, mood sinking a little as he sucked a breath in and moved toward the tower. Inside he could see Rumpus. He snapped a salute of too Overlord Mor'ghor, "Yes Overlord?"

Mor'ghor regarded him closely, his gaze anything but light. "Rumpus here seems to think you're holding out on us," Mor'ghor said flatly. He nodded to two guards that had come to the tower's open door and they pulled the pack from Aran, who did not resist. "Something about a collection of Netherwing Eggs. Seems to think you might be trying to go around us in handing them over to Lady Sinestra, Orc. Is that true?"

The guards rifled through Aran's packs and the bull twitched his tail, or would have if he hadn't been in a fel orc's body. "No, Overlord. I turn in my yield every day."

The Overlord's eyes narrowed as the two guards started bringing the precious eggs from Aran's packs. 'Oh fel. What am I going to do?' Yarzill was the one he gave them to, but he couldn't let the Orcs know Yarzill was involved without being certain Yarzill had already made a good lie about where the eggs went from him. "Do you?" The Overlord asked, pacing briefly as he did, "How many eggs would you say you've handled, Aranskah?"

Aranskah blinked his eyes, looking back at the guards as they pawed through his belongings. Gems... 'Oh fel..' They drew them out with gleaming, beady eyes and Aran turned his gaze on Mor'ghor again, "I'd say two or three dozen at least."

"Two or three dozen? We haven't turned in more than a dozen to the Lady in the past week! Who are you giving them to?" Aranskah bit the inside of his cheek, trying to think of some alibi or another.

"He gives em to me," Yarzill's voice cut the air and Aran turned to see the Goblin enter the tent. "That b*tch tell you we're not handing em over, Overlord?"

Mor'ghor looked at Yarzill too, everyone in the room did, Rumpus included. He slowly nodded, "She did indeed, though I'd mind your tongue, that dragon could cut you in two with minimal effort, Goblin."

Yarzill snorted deeply and spat at the earth outside the command tower, "Well Fel man, someone's gotta set her straight. I hand over every egg we get that comes through the proper channels. She's gotten dozens upon dozens in this week alone with the task forces you have in the field, Overlord." He laid the compliments on thick, thick enough they soothed the Overlord, but not so thick as draw anyone's suspicions save for perhaps Rumpus.

Aran turned back to his bags. Gems littered the ground amid bandages and food provisions. Armor, tools of his trade, a small collection of weaponry reserved for the occasions when his own broke. They'd gone through everything. He risked a glance at Rumpus and saw the fel orc simply simmering. 'He wanted them to find the bobble... Good thing I called her down.' Aran looked at the Overlord.

"I don't like this. I don't like that there's a dozen eggs sitting right there. Makes me suspicious." He pointed at Aran's collection.

"Well fel, man, you didn't give the Commander here a chance to turn em over. I'm the first person he usually sees when he comes back into camp. Should be proud, he's brought in more eggs than any of the others," Yarzill clapped Aran hard on the back, and the force behind it was surprising for a creature of his size.

Mor'ghor grumbled quietly for a moment before speaking so they could hear, "You're daft, Rumpus. If you ever come in here laying accusations against one of my Commanders again, particularly one so accomplished as Aranskah, you better have damn good reason." Rumpus bowed his head to the Overlord, standing rigid as a board while under his gaze.

A cold smirk drew across Aran's lips and he could not resist saying, "Should put my booterang to your skull for such an accusation after the way you behaved in the mines..."

Mor'ghor turned to face Aran, "How did he behave?"

Aranskah inclined his head to Mor'ghor, "Like a coward grown soft from too much time in camp."

Mor'ghor turned back on Rumpus, who was staring hatefully at Aran. The Overlord smirked now too, "Did he? Well then, Rumpus, you're on recovery duty in the mines for the next month. Enjoy the opportunity to serve the Dragonmaw and prove your worth.. Or don't." The last words were a threat rather than an indication of indifference. This was very clear to Aranskah and Rumpus both.

"Yes, Overlord," Rumpus said saluting, "Permission to leave."

"Get your sorry ass out," Mor'ghor responded. He, Aran, and Yarzill watched as Rumpus moved off into the dark and Mor'ghor turned to Aran with a more neutral expression. "As for you... I don't like those accusations being made. You just do yourself a favor and stay close to home tomorrow. If you wander too far you might find yourself under close watch when you get back."

Aranskah saluted Mor'ghor sharply, "As you say, Overlord."

Mor'ghor grunted and nodded, "Good. Now get out, both of you."

Yarzill popped off a salute while Aran swept his possessions back into his packs and the two left. Aranskah turned his gaze on Yarzill, "Sorry about that." He murmured softly.

Yarzill glanced around to be sure no one was looking and kicked Aran in the shin, "You better be, almost compromised my cover you big lout." He didn't say another word before reclaiming his post.

Aranskah shook his head and made for the inn that had come to be his home. He slung his belongings into the wall as he had come to do and rested against it, propping himself in the corner. Two of his fingers dipped into his gem bag. He was pretty sure the guards had pocketed some of the jewels, but it was little concern to him as his fingers closed around the most precious thing in the pouch and pulled it out. A small blue pearl he could fashion to know magical purpose rolled against his palm and brought a warmth to his soul simply by touching him.

'But f*ck.. I won't see her tomorrow now.. And maybe not for a few nights after... Still... I will be able to hear her voice, to touch her mind...' His head fell back against the wall as he rolled the pearl in his palm, the comforting thought of hearing her voice rolling through his mind. Sleep found him more easily that evening.

"I missed you, Shan'do," Shari'Adune smiled up at him, her eyes alight from being so close. Seven days seemed to have been as long for her as it was for him.

"I know, Little Feather," His strong arms swept around her sides, pulling her into his chest. "I hated being apart from you... I hate that I did learn a lesson from it."

Shari's eyes turned up at Aranskah, her ears flicking forward, "You did, Shan'do? Then you'll... join the family truly?" She meant that he would conform to what the family stood for when she asked the question.

The bull snorted, his breath passing through his nose and rustling the scented hairs of her mane, "I will, Shari'Adune. I will join your family with the promise to love you, and to love them equally." He brushed his leathery lips against her muzzle, enjoying the feel, savoring it. 'F*ck you, Kat.' He thought with a smirk on his lips as he held his beloved against his chest. His thoughts turned on Sumi, Iressi, and Khazgral first, but then on the members of the family he had not known as long. 'She was right to say no. Xrith was right. And I can't fault them for it... There's far too much at stake.'

"What a way to learn what family is..." his father's voice drew his gaze from Shari's small, white frame. The bull stood a few paces behind the two, smiling at the sight of them.

"Father?" Aranskah asked, finding nothing strange in his presence where they were. In the dream it simply made sense that his father be there, well and alive.

"Mm. I'm only sorry you couldn't learn from me and your mother," he moved closer and time seemed to freeze for Aran. The comfort of Shari's form pressed into his chest was present, but he knew she couldn't hear the words the two bulls shared.

"I did learn from you, Father.." Aran said, brow drawn with some concern and much sorrow.

"What did you learn from me then, Son?" His forward progress halted a few feet from the lovers as he regarded Aran closely.

"I learned that you protect the ones you love at the cost of anything," Aranskah responded with some consideration. His red gaze was on his father's form, his eyes trying to piece together what the older bull was thinking.

"Mm. Indeed, but it took Kat's lesson to remind you that when love is given to a family the good of the whole must come before the good of any single member," his aged lips were smiling as he folded his arms. "That was why I remained those five years, you know... After your mother..."

Aran blinked, "What do you mean?"

The bull chuckled and pointed at his son, "You, a week ago, would have said that losing Shari would mean losing yourself... But when you have a family... A family that depends on you to be strong for it... You can't put all of your being on a single soul. What would you do if you lost her? What if you had a child who needed you?"

"You..." Aranskah's lips curled into a frown, his fingers brushed gently through Shari'Adune's mane. "You did stay with the Grimtotem for mother.. and for me." His red eyes met his father's gaze for a time before he nodded, pressing his nose into the top of Shari's mane. "I will not forget, Father." His black eyelids fell closed as he spoke the words. When they opened again his father was gone.

Aran's hands ran through Shari's mane as time seemed to move for her again. He felt her nose press into his chest, just over the swirl above his heart.

"I'm happy to hear that."

The voice was muffled by his chest and so he hooked his horn carefully to hers and turned her face to a side slightly with it, "What was that, Little Feather?" He asked as he freed their horns.

She blinked up at him with a confused expression, "What Shan'do?"

A hearty chuckle rolled from his lips, "What did you say, Silly?" He bunted her nose gently with his own as he waited for her answer.

Shari's features drew in confusion, but a smile touched her soft, leather lips as she returned the gentle bunt, "I didn't say a word, Shan'do."

((*Pants* And I'm done. There's the highlights of Aran's week without his love. Comments are welcomed and encouraged, and I'm sorry Sumi for making you cry. I promise Aran's dreams didn't impact how much he cares about his cousin. ))

((You'd better be you meanie! lol I love your writing. Great story! ))