Vox Infernal

Act your age, bull. This is hers. It would be no more right of you to take control of the situation than it was of them to do so. It is not your place. She is smart. She will do as the spirits guide her. It is not your place, though most of them are your clan.

Mograg frowned as he continued to watch and listen to Winatsha's gathering be trampled by so many who talk over everyone else. He felt especially bad for some, those who were new to the circle and had expressed interest in what Winatsha was trying to do, yet were given no room to speak. He felt terrible for an undead woman who called herself Ruth, gifted with a very pleasant singing voice matched by the sharp wit to conjure songs on the spot, and knew many more from her childhood. She was going to sing for the group at Winatsha's request when one who was so elevated within Mograg's clan, and by others, had the audacity to walk in to the meeting and spout his disapproval at some poor youngster who knew no better. Embarrassment had long overtaken anger at the situation, and he stayed his tongue. This is hers.

Of those who had paid visit, some had shown proper respect, but it was rare and fleeting. Stamp never arrived. Mograg had sought to speak with him on a matter that he felt urgent. Perhaps he had informed the others of Winatsha's gatherings. The last gathering had just been the three of them. This week, the clan descended on the shamanness, caught unawares. In a word, she was overrun.

As Ruth spoke her farewells, he could hear that group disturbing the tranquility of the village once more. They shouted to one another like children. Ridiculous. Do not give in, bull. Act your age, even if they do not. His will was not as strong as his rational mind implored him to be. He bellowed out above the rest of the din, yelling in Orcish, "Shut up, all of you. Show respect." The yelling ceased. Winatsha paid little attention to his outburst nor his muttering that followed. The undead woman chuckled lightly and concluded her farewell, promising more songs of her youth as she recalled them.

It was hearing his name that caught his attention again. Inaudible to the others near him, the higher-pitched voice of a pale elf, her name Ilemnemis, intoned in his head. "I am sorry, Mograg. I just don't want one more person mad at me. And Meo, well, he is a legend." So rarely did he actually enjoy that voices of those within his clan, their stones attuned together as part of the induction ritual, could invade his own thoughts.

The effort of will to cause his own voice to imprint similarly on those in the clan had become negligible through much repetition. Many had practiced such that they might push not only their own thoughts through the stones, but the sounds of their environment and feelings of their own moods and gestures as well. Some, given the right concentration, seemed to be able to describe in excruciating detail a particular object just by speaking its name. Mograg did not care for such noise, nor did he wish to make it. He did, however, prefer to grunt and make other inarticulate sounds when the occasion struck. Sensing the time was right, he replied with a simple, "Pfft." It said little, implied nothing, and meant less. The one known as Meo made an inquiry, subsequently, in an apparent attempt to assess Mograg's intention. Mograg by then had lost interest in it entirely and his mind focused once more on the conversation around him.

Ruth departed to join the others. Two bulls remained. One of Winatsha's small group, Nchabichih, and the young bull who made the wild claims earlier. Nchabichih spoke his farewells and made motion onward. The young bull tarried a bit longer, seemingly lost for what to do next. In that time, yet another of his clan made her way to Winatsha and Mograg. Her name was Key. Mograg would not be quick to call her friendly, but certainly always polite. Mograg, frustrated with the evening, was less so. As Key began to bow to Winatsha and Mograg, he pointed toward the others and stated, "All the odd ones go that way. So, you are best to stay this way." He smirked at her, but his feeble attempt to hide his disdain with humor was seen through easily. She stopped mid-way through her bow, gave a scowl, and headed deeper into the village of Bloodhoof toward the others. The young bull, at a loss, followed. Well played, you old fool. She meant no harm whatsoever. Hopefully, she will be quick to forgive and forget the offense.

The goal, though, had been achieved. He and Winatsha finally stood together without others underfoot after a long evening of waiting. Winatsha's slow nod in response to his curtly asked, "May we?" was a reminder to him that it was well beyond time to regain his calm. "Good," he said, and offered his hand to her. She squeezed his hand and leaned heavily against him as they made the walk back to Thunder Bluff from Bloodhood Village.

Shortly after they crossed the bridge over Stonebull Lake, Mograg spoke. "I am sorry for that, love."

She blinked in surprise. "What have you to be sorry for?" She looked at him, the confusion evident in her face.

Mograg had become aware some time ago that he was perhaps too quick to see wrongdoing, and even more rapid with an apology. "Hmm. Alright, perhaps nothing. I was going to apologize for my clan, that they descended upon your gathering and took it over as their own. Perhaps you do not see it the same as I do." One who he had met just the previous evening, a self-deprecating Tauren who was much lauded for his cooking, rode past on his kodo. "And that one is on his way to join them."

Winatsha fidgeted with her tail a bit. "I had hoped for greater attendance... you have heard me often enough to know my disappointment when none have shown. But now..." Winatsha frowned.

Mograg interrupted, "It's not the number. It's the lack of respect they have shown."

Winatsha replied, "I am the one who put the posters on every tree, post, cairn... if there is a fault, it is mine." An undead man in a tuxedo walked past them as they neared the lifts up to the Bluff, exclaiming an Orcish sound of surprise from behind them. Winatsha continued, "I was surprised to see Issaela, but, pleasantly so."

The undead man now demanded their attention. "Hello there!" Mograg and Winatsha turned. The undead man waved and called out, "Big guy!"

"Mmm?" Mograg watched him through the lenses of his goggles. The lens over one eye spun slightly, focusing.

"You look like a nice strong man, yes. Help a corpse out?" the undead man spoke cheerily.

"Bull, but, go on. What you need?" The Orcish words, once more on his tongue, felt as foreign as ever.

"Business is slow... would you buy something, maybe?" He seemed the part of a salesman. Already, too, he was at least trying to earn honest coin instead of begging for it as Mograg had seen so many other times.

"Mmm. What is it you sell?" Mograg asked.

The undead man laughed. "Gone and forgot my trade..." Perhaps not a salesman, after all. Either very new, or knew how to give that impression. "Yes, you may call me Zurrikan. My trade is potions. Buy a bottle?" Zurrikan paused briefly, his focus becoming Winatsha. "Or the lady!" The undead man bowed politely before Winatsha, who appraised him with a slightly tilted head. He had already made his appraisal of her. "You look... erm... spiritual... Buy an herb, perchance?"

Winatsha returned his bow with a curtsey, smiling at the undead man. "The Eathmother provides all the herbs I could ever want for."

"Oh, I'm sure she does." Zurrikan smiled at Winatsha, who maintained her own smile at him. "But how often does she have a full bushel of Liferoot? Or a petal of Arthas' Tears?" He had missed his mark. She was no alchemist.

Mograg interjected, "Mmm. Which do you have made?" The bull had meant the potions that the undead man had purported to sell.

"Oh, my last few batches, yes. Elixir of Wisdom, Elixir of Minor Agility, and Discolored Healing Potion." The trade names for each potion were commonly spoken by both those who produce and consume them. "I can make others by request, yes, but that is what's on me..." he quickly added.

"The one for swiftness of hand. How much, mmm?" Mograg still respected the salesman for making an effort. Most of these things are traded through the auction house. It was somehow more satisfying to purchase this from someone face-to-face.

"Perhaps I could find use for an Elixir of Wisdom..." Winatsha added.

"Oh, I believe in kind trade. Do name your price." Zurrikan politely bowed, and Mograg did so in return.

The civility of the gesture reminded Mograg of his own manners, "Mmm, first, I am called Mograg. It is rude of me not to tell you so, when you tell me your name. I am sorry."

Winatsha blushed softly, now reminded by Mograg. "And I am Winatsha."

"No problem, my good steer." Mograg smirked as the undead man referenced him as such. He began to bow repeatedly to Winatsha. "A million times of apologies for not asking, my lady." She smiled, shaking her head a bit. "I have two bottles of agility left."

"Mmm. I would give a gold coin for those." Mograg had a sense for what they would sell for at auction. He expected to haggle, so priced them a bit low.

Zurrikan laughed. Mograg readied himself for the haggling. Zurrikan ceased laughing, and surprising Mograg continued, "Oh... erm I mean yes! A fair price!" He produced the potions and handed them to Mograg, "There you are... heh... Wonderful." Zurrikan grinned at Mograg, who promptly thanked him. "And the lady wanted the fancy stuff, hmmm?"

"And how many of the wisdom elixirs have you?" Winatsha asked.

"I have three in my pockets, and ten more in the bank," he replied.

"Mmm, would fifty silver each be a fair price? If so, the three you have at hand will do nicely," she offered.

Zurrikan gave off a huge smile. "I dunno... that's scratching it... but, okay!" He laughed as the exchange of coin for vial was made. Rubbing his new coins together he said, "Thank you, good... cow... people..." He smiled, more innocently.

Mograg chuckled and Winatsha laughed softly. She admonished, "We prefer Shu'halo... or at least Tauren."

"Oh yes, Tauren." Zurrikan laughed as Winatsha smiled. "I forgot, mmhmm. I'll be back up to the city then... you snatched up my best merchandise. At a wonderful price, I might add." Another bow, this time for departure.

"Good night, Zurrikan. May trade treat you well." Mograg bowed, Winatsha curtsied, and the undead man went off alone, cackling. Mograg and Winatsha gave him plenty of room to get ahead before ascending on the lift themselves. They settled in near the shore of the pond, and Mograg begain to speak his native Taurahe again. "Not a bad one, him."

No sooner than Mograg spake it than a voice began impressing itself upon his own thoughts. "Mograg, was it?"

Presumably, it was Zurrikan once more. One day, bull, you will have to rid yourself of this accursed stone. He reflected briefly on the time that he threw it away as he walked down the main road of Durotar. To his dismay, the words "If found, return to Mograg. Reward." he had once had carved on its backside did their job unfailingly.

Winatsha, with no way of knowing that the conversation went on silently between Mograg and the now presumably absent Zurrikan, agreed. "Mmm, he seemed pleasant enough."

"Mmm. That is me," his reply to the voice came naturally, and seemed to hit its mark.

"Good name..." the voice continued.

Aloud, Mograg spoke only the word "Certainly," now agreeing to Winatsha's agreement, absent-mindedly.

"You're no doubt an admirable figher? Am I right?" the voice continued.

"Ah, mmm. Sort of, but, thank you. It depends on what you mean. I shoot more than I swing a sword," Mograg replied inaudibly.

"Right right... The dog. You're a hunter, then?"

"A hunter, yes." Mograg's patience began to wear thin again. Perhaps he has work for me now.

Winatsha leaned heavily against him. Almost on cue, the voice asked, "And how do you know that woman?"

Mograg wrapped his arms around Winatsha as he replied, "I have known her some time. She is my love."

"Your love... delicious..."

"Delicious?" That's not a word to describe this, bull. You know more than enough Orcish to know that his choice of word here is somehow wrong. Why are you answering him? He is not known to you, and not to be trusted. Trust your instincts. You know better. Mograg debated with himself briefly. Part of him knew that his paranoia was irrational. Part of him knew it was well-founded. He mulled it over, cursing himself for his mistake. No need to worry her, at least not yet. Speak.

To Winatsha now, Mograg spoke in a much more subdued tone and through his smirk. "I don't think I'll be winning any popularity contests within the clan soon."

She tilted her head a bit to look at him. As she did, the voice prodded, "Mograg, tell me. How is Winatsha? Doing well?"

"Why do you say that, love?" she asked.

He just saw her, just met her. He just met you. There is no good reason for him to ask this. The questions have begun to get too personal too quickly. He is trying to establish rapport with you, bull. This is a deception. Do not give into it. "She seems to be. Why do you ask?" Mograg answered the question silently with a question of his own. To Winatsha he grinned a bit.

The voice continued, rapidly. "No reason no reason. Just trying to be nice." After a moment of hesitation it continued, "Don't you find it odd that you're hearing a voice? Most people lose it at this point..."

Zurrikan walked up exclaiming, "You two are too cute!" He sat down, uninvited, near them.

Mograg continued in Taurahe to Winatsha, "One does not publicly call out many of them as disrespectful all at the same time and become more popular for it. Such is the way of things." Satisfied that he had finished that part of his conversation, he looked to Zurrikan.

Zurrikan mimicked a fragment of the Taurahe that Mograg had spoken, "Yes yes... Kee awak rah ovaktalo and all that..."

Mograg continued his conversation with the voice in his head, now aloud, "Hearing a voice is a small worry at this point, Zurrikan. I hear too many, more than I care for." He let out a hearty chuckle.

Zurrikan addressed him, "Eh? What are you talking about?"

Mograg tilted his head from side to side. Either the voice is not his, he's playing a game, or his sanity is not there. It does not matter which. Trust your instincts. He grunted.

Zurrikan spoke, "You're strange... The both of you..."

A young bull speaking in Orcish more broken yet than Mograg's trotted up to them. "You like kill Alliance?"

Mograg replied, "Only when it must be done."

"There two here. One rogue, one druid. Last time I saw them druid was on elevator."

The voice returned, "He's not the brightest, is he?"

If the voice is not Zurrikan's, it belongs to someone who perceives the area around him. If it is Zurrikan, he plays games or is not himself sane. Be more wary, bull. Mograg gave no reply, neither internal to the voice, nor outward to Zurrikan. Instead, he spoke to the excited young bull, "Probably here for the fires." Winatsha sighed, and the young bull trotted off, presumably to find someone else to engage in unnecessary combat so he might be a spectator.

Zurrikan asked, "No doubt you two share a home... Nearby, perchance?" Zurrikan yawned sleepily.

"Our people are, mmm, nomads. We are much the same. We sleep where we are tired." Well done, bull. You have kept control of the situation. No one knows any more, it is truth enough, and Winatsha won't be compelled to answer him further.

"But there are so many lovely homes in this city... It's a wonder you haven't staked one as your own..." Zurrikan continued.

The young bull returned, once again insisting that because the guards had become alarmed that there was cause for bloodshed. "If they are Alliance," Mograg assured him, "and they are here, then the guards will be alarmed one way or the other." The young bull wandered off again. Mograg shook his head and shrugged. He was thankful for the interruption to the line of questioning.

To Mograg's dismay, the undead man continued. "There are empty houses the size of that weapon shop on the other side of town... Always wanted a house of my own..."

Mograg smiled, falsely now, at Zurrikan. He was weary, and Zurrikan had become the source of his weariness. Zurrikan now turned and poked roughly at Gunnar. The normally docile wolf growled. Mograg offered, "More gentle, and he will be more gentle, too. Then you only must to worry about drowning in slobber." Must to worry. Well done, bull. Leave him thinking you're more simple than you are. Mograg grinned, in part at his own cleverness, but more that Gunnar's change in demeanor indicated that he was not alone in not trusting the newcomer.

"I don't know... Dogs never seemed to like me," Zurrikan said. He sighed.

"Most times, he is very friendly," Mograg assured.

"Oh burn it all... I must off... Till then, Mograg." He smiled at Winatsha, and addressed her by name. She waved.

"Good night, Zurrikan." Mograg returned to his native tongue and spoke to Winatsha. "I may have made a friend," he said, facetiously. "Where were we?"

Winatsha looked distracted. She said, also returning to her use of Taurahe, "We were talking about the strange turn of events at tonight's gathering..." She fidgeted with her tail.

It was one of her nervous habits. She did so frequently. Earlier, at her gathering, one who she had not known long herself had pulled her away from the rest. She had been troubled by whatever had been said, but speaking of it had to wait until later. "Mmm. You've been upset by the message you received."

Winatsha frowned a bit, nodding. "I am... unsure... what to make of it." She peered up at him a long moment, her eyes troubled.

She had kept some things secret from Mograg in the past. He was never sure whether he should ask at any given time for more information. "Would you like to share the message with me, then, or no?" Mograg asked.

"Elder Dusthoof seems to think there is a danger coming, though, he could not put a name or face to it," she replied.

Zurrikan. "Love, so far he has told you only what is either obvious or so vague it cannot help but to be true." Mograg emphasized his neutrality toward it with a slight shrug.

She frowned slightly and nodded slowly. "He speaks as the spirits do, with riddles and a shadowy tongue. But that does not mean his warning should be dismissed." She twisted the tuft of hair at the end of her tail between finger and thumb.

"Nor should it be readily believed as prophecy," he argued. Winatsha nodded. "It reminds me of something I was told once." She tilted her head as she listened to him. "Sometimes communication must be more vauge and irritating than is absolutely necessary to convey certain dangerous complexities." Winatsha frowned at him, shaking her head a bit. "No?" he asked.

"I did not realize you spoke with spirits, love," she grinned ruefully.

"I speak with engineers." Winatsha blinked, then laughed softly. Mograg continued, "A gnomish engineer taught me that turn of phase, painstakingly enough."

Winatsha sighed softly, leaning heavily against Mograg. He gave her a gentle squeeze. "I will try not to worry about his warnings, though I cannot discount them either. Even he was unsure what danger he was warning me against."

"Going gray prematurely from too much worry, I'll bet. Just for maximum irony." Mograg's humor was short-lived. "The fact of the matter, love, is that we both put ourselves in harm's way on a daily basis. We go up against risks both seen and unseen, with little more than the leathers and metals we clad ourselves in, and we do not blink." She nodded. "It is, very much, the way of things for danger to be coming at us. Always." Zurrikan. "The only real difference could be that this is, instead of the random violence to which we are usually subject, this might be a targeted violence."

"But he spoke of a broader danger... he said, 'A shadow gathers in the land of elves... and it has turned its now open eye upon Mulgore'..." she recited.

Pragmatically, Mograg asked, "He didn't happen to mention which set of elves, did he? The dark ones are a touch harder to see in the shadows."

Winatsha shook her head. "I thought he spoke of the pale elves' lands... but, he could have just as easily meant the dark elves," she admitted.

"I do not discount that he may be right. But until we know what he is or is not right about, or until we have a plan to discover what that might be for ourselves, we are without aim." Winatsha nodded her agreement against Mograg's shoulder.

"He asked only that I stay alert," she said.

Mograg nodded. "Stay alert, then, but to him as well." Stay alert to many. You, too, old bull. She nodded once again. "If one has grave portents that they believe are significant, they are not shared in private. What could he have to gain by doing so?" Not panicking others unnecessarily. It's the same reason you do not worry her over the voice right now. Quite hypocritical tonight, aren't you?

"My instincts tell me he means well, but..." she trails off as an over-sized cat pads over to where they sit. There is uncertainty in her demeanor, and the smile she offers to their friend is weak at best.

"Hello, Slyvos," Mograg calls to him.

"Greetings, Slyvos," Winatsha adds.

"Seems I just walked in on something serious," the older bull and long-time friend of Mograg and Winatsha observed. Mograg shrugged a bit in response. "Eh?" he prodded.

"It's hard to know for sure. How are you, friend?" he asked in return.

"Mmmm," Slyvos intoned.

Mograg and Slyvos occasionally played a game where they communicated only in grunts. They were usually careful not to play it around others, however. "Mmm?" Mograg insisted.

"I'm not sure," said Slyvos as he laid down next to the couple.

"Tough day in the acid mines, Slyvos?" Mograg asked.

"Not really... just not thinking straight, eh?"

Mograg nodded, "Fair enough." He turned his attention now to another undead who had sat near the group on the adjacent shore of the pond. "Hello, X." He slipped back into Orcish.

X, who likely had a longer name but it was either never revealed to or remembered by Mograg, responded, "Evening, Mograg. How might be things?" Winatsha glanced from the undead to Mograg.

"They might be many ways, but, they are this way," Mograg grinned a bit. "And you?"

"Many ways as well. Currently the way has led me here once more." X chuckled.

Mograg nodded. "There are others, too, down at Bloodhoof. There was a small get-together there when we left it." Mograg had first seen X after a long absence the previous night at an informal clan gathering. "Many are about tonight." Mograg smiled politely.

"Oh? Well. Perhaps I will check that out later, but I am enjoying the lake tonight...."

Mograg nodded. "Good good." He indicated each in turn as he introduced his companions to the newcomer, "X, this is Winatsha and this is Slyvos."

X splashed the water with one gloved hand and watched the ripples. "A pleasure to meet both of you."

Winatsha nodded to the undead man. "Greetings... X?" She glanced from him to Mograg.

"Yes. That is what I am called," X confirmed.

To Mograg's side, Slyvos fell asleep. "Any fun thing go on after I leave last night?" Mograg asked of X with a grin.

The sleeping druid spoke, "Just some ruckus..."

X nodded to him, "Pretty much. I did not stay long, however."

Mograg gave a short laugh. Slyvos, still sleeping, added "... cherry pie, too." The group peered at Slyvos.

"Mmm?" Mograg asked of him, glancing over to notice that he'd fallen asleep.

"Didn't hear about that part," X offered.

Mograg shook his head. Slyvos continued, "Bour-bon... cherry." Mograg chuckled quietly.

X laughed, "Ah. I see."

"At least, the dreams he has are good dreams," Mograg observed.

"Must be nice," said X.

Mograg nodded, "I would think." He asked, "How you keep yourself busy, X? You say you are busy since last time I see you."

Slyvos woke. He shifted from his cat form to his Tauren form and smacked Mograg over the head with his staff. "Bad dog."

Winatsha blinked. "Slyvos!"

"Hey!" Mograg called up to him.

X only chuckled. The druid quickly shifted back and returned to sleep. "Odd one, isn't he?" asked X. Mograg grinned at X.

Winatsha grinned, nodding a bit. "He is..." She glanced at the sleeping druid, "... one of a kind."

Sylvos tossed and turned a bit, so his head was now on a downward slope from the rest of his body. "Watch it, Slyvos. Blood will drain away from your brain like that." Mograg let out a hearty chuckle and winked at Winatsha. Slyvos slipped into the water and quickly took on his water form.

Slyvos barked at Mograg. "MONSTER!" Winatsha shook her head, grinning. X stared on as the scene unfolded, leading him to laugh heartily.

"I am called worse," Mograg replies. Winatsha smiled lovingly at Mograg.

Slyvos, now soaked, climbed out of the water and hugged Winatsha. She grinned.

"One of a kind. Heh," X chuckled as a grinning Mograg received a similar wet hug from the druid. Winatsha nodded to him. Slyvos then peered at X, grinning wickedly. He shifted back to his cat form and cuddled up against X, causing no small amount of discomfort on the part of the undead man. "Ah... erm..." X stammered as the other two grinned.

"He follow you home, you keep him," said Mograg as X glanced at the cat next to him.

"Feed him cheese," Winatsha offered.

"He is house-broken," continued Mograg. After the right length of pause he uttered, "Kind of."

Winatsha nodded, "Mostly."

"I don't think he'd like my current home..." X rebutted.

Slyvos, never shy when he wanted food or drink, asked, "Say, there.... X... have some cherry grog? Bit of pie? Bagels?"

X looked over at the cat and shook his head. "Don't drink. And don't eat much, either."

"Grapes?" Slyvos tried again.

"Nope," said X.

"No?" Slyvos asked one last time. He then prowled over to the wolf Gunnar and sniffed him. "Bet this Hole ate it all. Ate it all up, eh? Bet you did," he spoke to the wolf.

X let out a short laugh as he and the rest watched Slyvos. Slyvos tapped Mograg on the head with his staff. "Ah, much more nice," Mograg said as Winatsha peered up at Slyvos.

"Stand up." Mograg obliged and followed Slyvos as he walked. "Stand just there, eh? Now... Come this way." Mograg shrugged and followed the old bull to the spot as Winatsha watched, her head tilted in curiosity. Her turn was next. Slyvos turned to her and pointed. "Stand up," he commanded. Winatsha regarded him with arched eyebrow, but obliged him as well.

Mograg, who had found himself nearer X, whispered, "One of his favorite games. 'Come this way.'"

"I see," said X.

Slyvos addressed the wolf. "C'mere." Without hesitation, the wolf trotted along beside the druid until he was asked to stay. Slyvos then beckoned to X, who similarly gave in to the wishes of the old bull. They were now around the pond at more or less even intervals. "Right here, eh?"

"All... right..." X said, resigned, boggling in confusion at Slyvos.

"Now..." the druid said and raised his hands to the sky. He muttered under his breath. Within a brief moment a storm cloud gathered over the small pond. Lighting flashed, hitting the water repeatedly, causing steam to rise from its surface. "Stew's up," the druid concluded. Mograg, used to the antics, grinned.

"Stew?" asked X.

"That's stew, right?" X looked down at the water. Other than a few steam pockets from where the lighting hit, the water was largely unchanged. Not a single fish, it had seemed, was harmed in the making of Slyvos' stew. "I read about it in this book, eh?" Winatsha walked out onto the surface of the water, to the astonishment of an onlooker or two, and knelt down to inspect it more closely. "Says get these ingredients. You mix 'em up." Mograg grinned more broadly as Slyvos continued, "Then you cooks it, eh? This is stew." Slyvos grinned wickedly.

"Well... I'm stew-pified? does that count?" X asked. Winatsha blinked at him.

"Is close, X, I think," offered Mograg, chuckling. Winatsha laughed softly, shaking her head a bit as Slyvos beckoned her over to him once more.

Chuckling, X said, "Heh. I like this one, I think."

Having joined Slyvos on the shore once more, Winatsha asked him, "Mmm?"

Slyvos asked of her, "How's you, eh?"

Winatsha smiled at Slyvos, "I've... had a day."

"Let's have a night," Slyvos said. "Day's gone," he continued. Winatsha grinned.

"It is just about time to call it a night," said Mograg. Winatsha nodded her assent.

"Gah! Always leave me!" exclaimed Slyvos. Mograg gave a short, high-pitched whistle. Gunnar trotted over to his side once more. Winatsha slipped her arm around Mograg's waist. "See them, eh?" Slyvos turned to X. "Always running off. Guess they don't like my stew."

"Heh, well, that is there prerogative, my friend," said X.

"Pfft. Some of us need sleep some times," Mograg replied.

Winatsha smiled gently, "We cannot keep up with you, Slyvos." She winked slyly at him.

"Or is it the other way around?" Slyvos countered. Mograg grinned.

"Where shall we camp tonight, love?" Winatsha asked of Mograg. Mograg replied quietly to Winatsha. She smiled lovingly up at him, nodding.

"Good night, both of you, mmm?" Mograg smiled at X and Slyvos before bowing down graciously.

Winatsha curtsied. "Winds guide you."

"They're doing it again, eh?" asked Slyvos, eliciting a chuckle from Mograg. Winatsha shook her head, grinning. X let out a short laugh. Slyvos raised his hand to the air again, summoning another storm cloud, this time over Mograg and Winatsha. While the lightning seemed to skew a bit further away from Winatsha, several bolts came perilously close to Mograg.

"That one almost got me!" Mograg exlaimed. "You're getting good."

"My aim must be off," said Slyvos, earning another round of chuckles.

"Good night!" Mograg tried, again.

"Stay safe," said X.

"Hold on a minute!" Slyvos called out.

"Mmm?" asked Mograg.

"Did I say day's gone?" asked Slyvos.

"I'll see you there, my love," Winatsha said in their native Taurahe before blowing a kiss to him. He nodded an assurance that he was soon to follow and returned the gesture.

"Look up in the sky," implored Slyvos. "I think it's coming back," he grinned wickedly.

"Might be a bit yet," Mograg replied.

"It was good to have met you, X," said Winatsha. She then waved to Slyvos.

With that, the couple teleported away. They would rendezvous soon at camp. She made it there a bit before him, and had already lit a fire by the time he arrived. They took up their customary spots, leaning back against a tree. Winatsha nudged her way under Mograg's arm, resting her head against his now bare chest, over his heart. He squeezed her gently. "Such strange people, all of them. In their own ways, but, strange."

Winatsha pondered this, her expression thoughtful. "Do you know, aside from you, the most 'normal' seeming people I've spoken to today were undead... Ruth, the potion seller, even X, strange as such a name is, seemed rather calm and normal by comparison."

Zurrikan. "Mmm. Believe me, there will be days that you will wish for undead as normal as they." Sooner, perhaps, than you think. Winatsha shook her head slightly against Mograg's chest. "It has been a long, long day. I am glad it's coming to a close."

Winatsha closed her eyes, listening to the rhythm of Mograg's heartbeat. She did this often when she sought comfort. "Mmm... I can't remember the last time I was this tired." She sighed.

"Mmm." Mograg settled in. His eyes closed heavily. Winatsha cuddled closer, and he snuggled with her. "Goodnight, my love."

"Sleep well, my brave hunter." She moved to get a bit closer, her arms holding him tight as she drifted off to sleep.

He does not know you camp here. Sleep, bull. Tomorrow is another day.