In the Evening

The orange glow of embers drifting upward against a dark sky and the smells of charring flesh over burning fire are the only evidence that Mograg has returned to camp. Climbing up the hillside to the plateau that has become a new home, the bull can be seen roasting small game. None of his usual entourage are immediately visible. Both the black dragonling and his long-time wolf companion Gunnar have become more independent as of late, hunting for themselves. They still travel with the bull, and he treats them with kindness when they are about, but they no longer stay right on his heels. The cat spirit he has taken to calling Nahima is rarely visible to begin with, but she seems ever-present these days.

His weapons, armor, and pack are in what has become the usual place. Laid out as they are, Mograg has apparently already gone through the effort of maintaining them. They seem to be at the ready, polished and cleaned again to a shine. The bull himself, however, seems a bit more haggard and worn. His eyes are weary. Small patches of his fur are missing, revealing bruises and worse. The large scar on his abdomen, no longer a bright pink as it was when he first acquired it, is a mute reminder that these are far from the worst injuries he has taken.

He sits away from the small fire, leaning back against a tree, eyes half-closed. The meat of some small animal is suspended by two large sticks over the flame. He watches lazily as the meal, sizable enough for two, cooks. He looks up and smiles softly. "Hello, Nayeli. I was hoping I'd see you tonight..."

Suddenly, a large maned cat appears near the bull, which then melds into the form of a female Tauren. Still inexperienced, she has obviously needed to remain unseen by the hostile creatures surrounding the camp, lest she meet with injuries much worse than she saw on the Tauren before her. Milanna returned Mograg's smile, but then furrowed her brow and knelt next to Mograg upon seeing his condition.

"Dearest... why is it that every time I see you, you are more tattered than my letters?" she asks quietly, gently patting the small pouch she carries at her side. She offers another smile, to try to make light of her words.

He chuckles. He looks down at himself and his hands reflexively start to smooth out his fur. "I've had worse, Nayeli. The shredders got the better of me today, just once. One of them had a bit more to him than the rest. In short," he grinned wryly, "I was roughed up by a very large, very angry salad."

Mograg rises to his feet, smiling. He offers his hands to Milanna, urging her to her feet as well. He puts his arms around her and hugs her tightly. He gives a quick kiss to her and says, "I've missed you, Olathe. How have you been?"

Milanna returns the hug just as tightly and blushes with his kiss. She smiles slightly, absently stroking his mane as he holds her, though her gaze does not quite meet his as she replies. "That's a rather... ahm... complicated question, love." Her eyes meet his once more. "But I suppose to put it simply... I have been... er, well enough..." she trails off before pausing a moment, looking a little guilty.

"Have you at least dressed those cuts? I have some mageweave bandages with me... they aren't much, but..." She pulls away slightly to search through her heavy-looking knapsack.

Mograg tilts his head to the side as he watches Milanna. He does not answer her question about dressing his wounds, though it is clear to her she needn't really ask it. She can see that he's not tended to himself yet. Mograg strokes the long braid that falls from his chin, the corners of his mouth frowning slightly in contemplation. "Nayeli?" He takes a deep breath waiting for her attention and to steel his own resolve. "Do not put it so simply when you answer this time, please. How have you been?"

She stares up at him with lowered ears, a hand clasping a roll of pinkish bandages. The druid remains silent for some time, though not out of refusal to answer so much as trying to form the words in her mind. Finally she forces herself to smile a bit.

"Really, love, things have been fine... I have been spending a great deal of time in the Vale and in Dustwallow..." She sighs somewhat wearily. "... where the dragonkin apparently enjoy following my trail..." Her smile turns into a wry grin.

Mograg chuckles quietly. "Well, you're not singed beyond recognition, at least." He now grins, "And, given the number they did on me a time or two, that's no small accomplishment in my eyes." Mograg smiles again at Milanna and looks at the bandages in her hands, "Thank you, my Milanna. You're too good to me."

Milanna smiles again, genuinely this time, and looks a little relieved. She sets down her pack and tears off a long piece of the bandage roll. "Though I'm really not too good to you... or I'd have something a little more durable than this," she giggles softly as she starts wrapping the mageweave around his right forearm. "In a... bizarre way, I should be thanking you. This is, well... practice." A small tug and a firm knot later, his arm was bandaged.

Mograg grins a bit as Milanna cinches the knot of his bandage. "I suppose so. Though, all things considered, it'd be easier to pretend I got the injuries instead." He turns his arm over, then flexes his forearm a bit. "You did a very good job, my love." He kisses her softly once more then stands. He takes her hand in his and walks to nearer the fire. The game, deer by the scent of it, stands on the perilous edge between well-cooked and well-done. He removes the meat from the makeshift spit and asks, "Hungry, my love?" As if on cue, Milanna's stomach grumbles a response. She clasps her tummy, blushing in embarrassment.

"Er... m-maybe a little..." she answers quietly, looking up at Mograg sheepishly. "I-I guess that climb took more out of me than... I'd expected..."

Mograg grins and wipes the blade of a knife clean with a piece of cloth. He carves the meat into two sizeable portions and offers one to Milanna. "So, my Milanna, I caught wind of the Tears celebration." He chews on a bit of the venison steak for a moment before asking, "Did you make it?" The druid takes the offer gratefully and nods.

"As a matter of fact... I did. Well, the tail-end of it, at least," she replies before taking a bite. Upon noticing movement from her bag, she kneels down and opens the flap of a small pocket on her knapsack, releasing a tiny prairie dog. Milanna smiles as she lets the critter crawl up her arm and onto her shoulder before standing back up again. "They seemed to be having a... storytelling contest when I arrived."

Mograg nods. "I half-expected to find out that the gathering had been overrun with Alliance. I'm glad to hear it, at least, ended well. Any interesting stories?" Mograg grins as he watches Ginger pad around on Milanna's shoulder.

"Well... there was a dwarf, and an elf," she giggled. "The dwarf had a bit too much to drink and tried... picking fights at the end, but by then the group was already disbanding." Another bite. "But yes, there were some very interesting stories..." she continued when she had swallowed, her gaze alighting on the ghostly cat nearby.

Mograg follows Milanna's gaze and sees Nahima just before she disappears again. He shakes his head, grinning a bit, "I guess she's being a bit coy tonight. She spent a lot of time manifest today, though, earlier. She's getting quite a bit better at making her attacks felt." Mograg smiles. "One of these days, I might figure out why she's chosen to follow me. Then again," he smirks, "I've yet to figure out why you put up with me." She gives Mograg a shy smile and a blush.

"I think you know the answer to that..." Before Mograg can respond, however, she giggles and once again glances in the direction Nahima had been. "But it seems you are not the only one she follows... that, or there is more than one of her..."

Mograg tilts his head curiously at Milanna. He finishes his bite of venison then speaks, "How do you mean, my love?" He casts a quick glance to a new location, presumably where the cat has moved to now. "I saw her once, on a trip with Shaw. Gunnar chased her away. I went back a second time without him, and the cat spirit stayed with me." Milanna looks thoughtful for a moment.

"It is... interesting, that you mention Sir Shaw... he was the one I was thinking of. He told a story in the contest, of an elf trapped in a saber form... and when he was finished, a ghost cat like Nahima appeared and followed him!" She finishes up her portion and begins to lap any leftover juices from her fingers, but remembers herself and pulls some linen from her pack instead, blushing again in embarrassment. "I, ah, could not tell for sure if it was Nahima... or another saber entirely..." Milanna cleans herself up with a piece of cloth, and then holds a piece to Mograg to see if he would want to do the same.

Mograg grins as he takes the cloth from Milanna. "You know, my love, I first saw you while you were licking hot sauce off your fingers. I thought you incredibly cute then, and nothing has changed." He wipes his hands and smiles, "As for Nahima following Shaw around, too, well, I don't know what to say. If she is an elf trapped in saber form, she acts more a saber than an elf. I don't recall her absence for any length of time lately, but, it's hard to say. She lets me know she's there when she wants to, and other times, I can only guess."

"Hm... well..." the druid began slowly, a finger to her chin, trying to hide her blush from his previous comment, "... I suppose it would be silly to think a spectral cat holds no mystery." She beams at Mograg. "Sir Shaw really did tell that story very well, though; it was easily my favorite. But... Hukari's story won..." she sighed.

"I'll have to talk to him sometime and find out what he's learned. When we went there, he had more questions than answers. Apparently, he's put some time into figuring them out. What was Hukari's story about? Or should it be even repeated?" Mograg forces a small chuckle, but his eyes betray a dislike for Hukari. She gives Mograg a half-smile.

"Well, something about a drunken monkey... tricking the gods into giving him beer... ah, er, I think... I had a hard time following after a while." She giggles softly.

Mograg shakes his head. "You know, I wish I could say that it wasn't exactly the sort of story I'd expect to win..." Mograg breathes in deeply. "Well, either way. It's a shame Shaw didn't win. I can't imagine him competing with depravity, nor can I see the majority not favoring it." Mograg frowns a bit. He opens a full water skin and offers it to Milanna after opening it. Again, the druid takes the offer gratefully and drinks a little before giving it back.

"The contest was judged by a strange orc's Voidwalker... perhaps its idea of entertainment is different from ours?" she suggests feebly with a shrug.

"Ah, right. Thogkresh, I think was his name. And," he pauses briefly in thought, "Krangloth is the orc. I always wonder which is the master in that relationship." Milanna smiles, though she seems to shudder a bit.

"It seems, um, friendly enough... but its voice still... ah, disturbs me, just a little... even just thinking about it..."

Mograg nods. "It's not right, or natural. That the demon is said to be as much a part of the clan as the one who alleges to be its master is wrong." Mograg frowns in reflection. "On the night that Golrath was brought back into the clan, we were gathered up above the inn at Shadowprey Village. I remember that all too well. Krangloth asked if Thogkresh would be allowed speak across the stones to the guild. Few in the guild spoke in support or against this. It was those outside the guild who spoke and said they", he quotes with disdain, "saw no problem with it." Mograg frowns, "One of many times when those outside the clan where given voice on matters that pertain only to the clan. Far from the worst time of it, but it seems the demon is now nearly a full member of the clan. I imagine it stood beneath the falls with its master at induction." Milanna looks over to her right at an oversized and nearly decaying squirrel nearby.

"That I could not tell you for sure. Very rarely have I made it to gatherings recently..." She speaks softly, never taking her eyes off the pitiful creature. "It seems I have not seen much of anyone recently, really. Besides the celebration that is." Her eyes move to the left to look at Mograg and she smiles just a bit.

He watches her for a long moment, the hint of a smile not returned. "Love, we shouldn't stay here. I ask too much of you as it is, and more to have you stay here. We can make it to the camp in Mulgore easily tonight." She sharply turns her head fully toward him, watching him similarly to the way he had just been watching her. Her brow furrows.

"But... you... that is, ah..." she stumbles over her words, not quite able to form what she wants to say. Milanna closes her eyes and takes a moment to begin again. "What I mean is... you shou ld not have to go anywhere you are... uncomfortable for my sake... especially since you do not ask too much of me at all, really... in fact I'd say it was the other way around." She opens her eyes and looks at Mograg soulfully, hoping to emphasize her statement.

Mograg's expression softens as he looks into Milanna's eyes. "My Milanna, I don't think you ask much of me at all. And we don't have to stay on the Bluff to be in Mulgore. Unless someone else has set up there, we still have the camp above the plains." He reaches forward for her hand, squeezing gently. "Besides," he smirks slightly, "This place isn't really comfortable for either of us." Milanna returns the squeeze with a soft chuckle.

"I cannot deny that the plains of Mulgore are much more... pleasant, than this place. I often wonder what caused you to camp here at all."

Mograg begins to gather his gear. He dons his armor, gathers gun and sword, and hefts a large pack onto his shoulder. Soon Milanna follows suit with her own knapsack, Ginger hopping to the ground at the druid's hooves. "Well, Nayeli, the reasons are not as clear to me, either, as I would like them to be. To anyone else, I might say that I'm here because this land needs someone to tend to it. There's no shortage of truth in that. It isn't, though, all that may be said.

"On the night you and I sat near the dwarven hunter's camp in Stranglethorn Vale we spoke about how I have come to feel about the clan, and that my mind then was one of separating from it." He hesitates a moment. "You encouraged me to speak with Ruarc on it, to make my feelings known to him. It wasn't with Ruarc, though, that I was drawn to speak. It was to Kormok. He had been the one to lift Golrath's banishment, not Ruarc. I knew I would find no peace in Ruarc's words." Milanna watches Mograg, ears perked slightly, transforming into her self that speaks little but listens much.

"I spoke to Kormok one night, perhaps two moons ago now. I met him by chance on the Bluff. I asked to know his reasons for lifting Golrath's banishment, and he gave as good an explanation as he might. Still, I felt no peace in it. In my spirit, I felt shame. I felt shame that my ancestors watch me and see me count among those who I choose to call brothers one who has murdered another, and tried to kill more. I felt shame that my ancestors watch me and see me count as my clan those who call one who has murdered another brother.

"When Kormok and I had finished our talk that night on the Bluff, I was both enraged and shameful. I do not remember making the choice to go to the Felwood, but it is where the winds took me. And there I stayed for some days. I sought to not be near those who caused me such rage, to do good in the world to make up for the bad that those who I have called brother have done, and to find peace within my spirit."

Mograg finishes gathering his gear. He douses the small fire. With a digging tool fashioned in a primitive style, he buries the ashes with the dirt he had removed to make the small pit in which it burned. As the two stride toward the camp where they can find wyverns ready, albeit reticent, to carry them to Thunder Bluff, Mograg speaks. "I continue to seek that peace in my spirit, Nayeli. The more I am among them, the less of it I seem to find. Honor seems to be poorly understood by many within the clan. The clan itself seems to be given over to the rule of the mob instead of the rule of wisdom. Those who are not of the clan and those who do not know anything of a situation seem to have as much voice, if not more, than those who are of the clan and do." Mograg breathes in deeply and exhales slowly. The druidess walks beside him quietly, willing to wait as long as Mograg needs to continue.

"When Golrath was brought before the clan by Kormok, it was done during a normal gathering. Many were there who were not of the clan. You were, and in many ways I am thankful for this, not present. This was a grave matter. The very life of Golrath hung in the balance. Many there, while Kormok tried to present what needed to be said, began to call out for his death or to spare his life. Most of them were not of the clan. And one, a seemingly long-time friend of many in the clan, began to peddle his wares in the middle of it. Hukari. Iphito and I had remained silent, watching, waiting for a turn to speak. There were no turns, only one trying to yell louder than another. The only speaking I did before telling Iphito I had enough and walking away from it was when I demanded of Hukari to stop talking. He had sat next to Iphito. I still do not understand why she chooses to associate with him, or indulges in his peacebloom-laced chocolate. I think she is convinced I don't know what it is." He shakes his head while Milanna simply looks thoughtful.

"Anyway, there was no honor in the way it was handled. Kormok attempted, to his credit, to maintain honor but was unable. And there were many who spoke of Golrath one day regaining his honor. One does not regain honor that they willfully forfeit. Golrath had no sickness to him, no magical compulsion to take these actions. He did it of his own accord and, until the spirits of his ancestors made their presence known and renounced him before all of us, had great pride in what he had done.

"At the gathering prior to the one where his banishment was lifted, Golrath chose to stand before all of us and said, in essence, "Everyone who likes me, raise your hand." I did what I could to remain silent, but my anger got the better of me and I spoke up against him. My voice was one of the few that did. I knew then, as I had known, that there were very few who saw him the same as I.

"The day his banishment was lifted re-enforced that notion. Weg, Iphito, and I were those who spoke against him being brought in. Those who were not of the clan or of the clan but too new to it to understand what had happened spoke the loudest. It was when one, a female troll, newest to our clan said to me that I should 'start over again' that I had my fill of it and left. Ruarc did not speak, nor did he seem to care one way or another what was said. The clan, the leaders, and those they keep company with have little sense of honor and less wisdom. This was the last most of the clan has seen or heard from me.

"There is at least one in the clan who misunderstands this. Given all else that has happened, I doubt she is in the minority. Twie, when Golrath was killed, wrote to me to tell me of it and," he continues with a hint of contempt in his voice, "that I can come back to the clan." Milanna's eyes go wide at these words, but she remains silent, allowing him to continue. He breathes deeply again, calming himself. "It was then, Nayeli, that I understood that I could not. It does not even occur to them that my reason for separating from the clan has less to do with Golrath than how the clan chooses to deal with it. Now that he is dead, they assumed I would return and be happy in it." He frowns deeply. Milanna's expression changes from surprise to something softer.

"In the days that I have been called Mograg, I have lost too much of what was good about the one called Takoda. My spirit will not be at peace, Nayeli, until I find it. The Bluff, for all the goodness of it, has made me weak. The orcs, for all they have done for us, have done the same to our people. I see it now as Machtagen spoke of it. I do not wish to be like him, Nayeli, and never find peace in any of it. Until I do not feel shame in my ancestors watching over me, though, I must live more as Takoda and less as Mograg. Do you understand, my Milanna?" She stops and gently takes the bull's hand, encouraging him to stop as well. Milanna looks directly into his eyes.

"I understand... very well, my love. You must be... who you decide you are. I will never prevent you from doing as your heart and spirit guide you... and you must never let anyone else prevent you from as much." She leans up to give him a tender kiss, never letting his hands go. Milanna smiles softly at him, and though there is something in her eyes that implies she has more to say, there is also something there that implies she is not ready to say it, at least not yet.

Mograg stands before Milanna, looking down into her eyes. He squeezes her hands gently and then lets go. As his hands move away from hers, his arms wrap around her. In an embrace meant to draw comfort more than convey affection he holds her tightly to him. His head lowers onto her shoulder, his chin resting on her. He holds her in silence, breathing slowly.

Though she is not sure why, the embrace takes Milanna by surprise. But after a moment, she wraps her arms around his neck, stroking his mane soothingly. She holds him this way, not moving until Mograg decides to do so himself. Even the prairie dog seems to understand, resting herself patiently against the hunter's hoof as though to give comfort of the tiny critter variety.

They hold one another a long while. In time, Mograg whispers quietly, "Thank you, my Nayeli." With that his embrace tightens gently once more then begins to slacken. They pull away from one another, reticently and slowly. One hand seeks hers and takes it again with a gentle squeeze. He looks deeply into Milanna's eyes, his own conveying the exhaustion and appreciation of one who has just been relieved of a heavy burden. The druid caresses his cheek with her free hand.

"There is no need to thank me, love," she whispers with a lopsided smile. She continues after a moment, "Come... perhaps spending time in Mulgore will do more good for you... than you may have originally thought."

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