Finding the Way Home

"I still don't get it! Why are you doing that the hard way instead of using the mine? I could talk to them for ya, you know!" Twizwick Sprocketgrind, the chief engineer for the Venture Company encampment shook his head, grinning as he watched Mograg.

The bull bellowed, "Pride!" His muscles strained as he pulled at the rope, walking away from the side of the cliff. The heavy load at the end of the rope finally made its way over the edge. The skid teetered a bit before its runners bit slightly into the ground of the plateau. Mograg breathed heavily as he took the stopper out of a water skin. He drank nearly half of it. "And, I already get it up this far. More than half the way there. Next one is not as bad."

"You could at least go get that flying machine you're always talking about," retorted Twizwick. "That pride is going to get the better of you. Besides! I want to study it so I can build my own!" Twizwick grinned, "That's the deal, you know. You have to show me how."

"Yes, yes. I remember. But is no good. Flying machine does not fit through mage door of Shattrath. And the demon door, it would fit, but could not get it to Kalimdor. Would need to take it apart and re-build." Mograg stood up again. The whole of his body felt like it was burning. Sweat slicked fur clung to his body. Getting the supplies up to the lower plateau had not seemed so much like work.

"So, why not try that?" Twizwick chimed.

Mograg put the water skin away and started pulling at the rope again, hauling the skid over to the next cliff he would pull it up. With a grunt and a smirk the bull replied, "Too lazy."

"Too lazy?" Twizwick asked incredulously. The goblin laughed heartily, shaking his head. "You're alright, bull. I don't care what they say!"

"And what do they say?" Mograg asked, unloading the skid.

"There's a rumor floating about that you came into the mine a little more than two years ago and really did some damage," replied Twizwick. It was true enough, but Mograg regarded the information impassively. "No one really remembers, though. You have any idea how often the crew changes out around here? Besides, you all look the same to us," the goblin chuckled. He elicited no more than a disinterested grunt from Mograg.

Mograg had already spent much of the day, and would continue late into the night in the same manner. He would reload the skid with supplies. Some had been purchased, some he had gathered himself. Once the rigging that held the load to the skid was secured, he'd attach the rope. At the other end was the large hook. The hooked end was tossed to the next plateau and secured in place. He would then find his way up to the next plateau. Sometimes a hard climb seemed the easiest way. Other times, he would rely on his raptor. Once on the plateau above, he'd pull the skid up to him and make his way back down again to begin anew.

Most of the time, Mograg had not had to contend with the audience of the lone goblin. While his body labored, his mind often drifted to recollections of the last several months. Much had changed in his life, more than he had expected would. He had seen little of the young shaman Winatsha before Slyvos had disappeared. He had seen her only twice in the months since. On the last occasion, she told him that she did not know next when she would see him, and that she no longer held him to any of his promises. He in turn released her from promises she had made to him. He did not expect to see her return again as she departed that last time.

It became rare to see those to whom he had been the closest. His long-time friend Slyvos was presumably dead. His Little Sister had taken to seclusion. Others had not come around in so long that some had become merely a fond memory of happier times. Mograg threw himself into his work, and the Beast reveled in it. The Beast had been fighting to take over for so long and now its time had finally come. Each hunt, the Beast took control more often. No longer was it reserved for times when it was absolutely needed. It was given free reign. In doing so, Mograg found that it left him alone away from the hunt, its bloodlust sated. The Beast was still rebellious, but Mograg had found that he could master it by not trying to subjugate it. Mograg began to find an inner calm when he was away from the hunt. He would gather with the clan again in the evenings when he could, and began to share stories and songs from his tribe.

The clan gatherings brought him close to Milanna once more. He had hurt her all too recently. She was still kind to him, more so than he might have been should the situation have been reversed. Mograg was grateful for her kindness and care, even though he thought himself undeserving of either. Over the weeks, she would spend more and more time with him. Their friendship became as it had been before.

It was not long before old feelings had been re-kindled within him, even though his shame prevented him from speaking them. Others had seen them together and would speak of it, but neither would speak to the other of it. A pair of the pale-faced elves they had met on a hunt had taken to calling them "Mr. and Mrs. Bull," only partially in jest. Mograg found that many had assumed she was his wife, and others assumed their relationship was as it had been in the past. Mograg could not bring himself to approach Milanna, for fear he would hurt her more than he already had. It would take an old friend to speak for Mograg when he could not.

Slyvos had returned! He told a story about how he had gone off to a remote island off the coast of Tanaris to study the art of the scribe. It was an altogether strange but good reunion. Mograg had been chastised for burning a hat, almost immediately. The whole of it was taken in stride and, after a few conversations as to his whereabouts, their friendship picked up once more just as it had left off.

It was Slyvos who, ultimately, would speak on Mograg's behalf. After a long conversation with Mograg, Slyvos took it upon himself to begin to push Mograg and Milanna together again. Subtlety, however, was not his primary concern. He had even gone so far one evening as to send them through an elaborate ritual disguised as one of his many games and announced at the end that Milanna and Mograg were now wed. The conversations that ensued as a result of the false wedding were the catalyst.

One evening, Mograg and and Snowee were relaxing on the Bluff near the pond. Snowee was a prospective member of the clan, another Shu'halo who Mograg was helping become acquainted to the clan. He had been asked to do this by Kormok, but Mograg had discovered in her another friend. Moreover, he was happy to find out that she took well to Slyvos. Slyvos' eccentricities sometimes made others uncomfortable, but she seemed to genuinely like him and had quickly become like family to Mograg. They were joined by Milanna, who had stalked up to them nervously as to not disturb them. Shortly after, Slyvos joined them as well.

Once during the course of the evening, Slyvos pulled Milanna aside and spoke to her. When they returned Slyvos said, "Milanna needs to talk to you, Mograggy." Mograg could only guess at what had been said, but he could see that she was easily as uncomfortable now as she had been the evening that Slyvos had decided they were married. Mograg quietly took her on a walk across to the Spirit Rise and there, for the first time in a very long time, they really spoke with one another.

The weeks that followed continued to bring them closer. Milanna and Mograg spent more and more time together. They would remember old times, they would speak of their new friends. The initial tension faded. Small acts of affection began to replace it. All the while, Slyvos and Snowee had taken to one another and their relationship was moving faster than a goblin rocket car on rails. It was not long before it was announced that Snowee was carrying Slyvos' twin children.

It was late in the night when Mograg and Milanna had settled down to sleep. She snuggled into him, her head resting on his chest. As they held one another, Mograg's mind drifted in the dream world between awake and asleep. He was at peace and knew what he would do next. The plans would wait for the morning. It was too late to get started. As he drifted off to sleep a whispered, "Goodnight, Nayeli," caught Milanna by happy surprise. He had not spoken that name since the last time he had called her by it. She lay her head back down again, whispering a goodnight and calling him by the name Takoda.

The next day Mograg set about his new project. First and foremost would be finding a location. He eventually settled on a high plateau after much scouting. There was more than enough land, as many trees as one might hope for in the area, and even a cave nearby that was deep enough to be significantly cooler than the outside. Water would not be easy to come by, but he knew ways around this problem. It was remote, but defensible should the occasion arise.

In time alone, he spent his day gathering the supplies he would need. He haggled with leather workers for cured hides. He purchased the wood that was to serve as the frame. Firewood, a water barrel, baskets, woven rugs, cooking supplies, a butcher's block and cleaver, even implements for a small garden. Each was carefully chosen for its utility and craftsmanship. He saw to it that everything needed was ready.

The long task of moving it would soon be behind him. On the nights where Milanna had gone to see her sister, he would spend those hours and any days he could spare putting it all in place. One day he would have it ready, and then he would bring her here to show her what he had built.

It would be home.