Short Story (Part I)
I’m acting on yet another request made my tribe’s leader, Vol’jin. I’m being sent out into the darkness that is Shadowmoon Valley to retrieve the heart of a Dragonmaw Drake-Rider. One of the small Darkspears has fallen ill. She is suffering from fevers and terrible nightmares. In order to make the remedy, one of the witch doctors here needs the heart, among a few other things, that I can gather along my way. I have never turned down a request made by my elders and I’m not about to start now. I’ve earned the respect and gratitude of my tribe. It is something I treasure greatly and to help pave the road to a new future for our people makes my heart beat with a quickness much like that of the Spirit Wolf.
I packed my things into a large Netherweave Bag. My villagers made sure I had plenty of food and water for my trek. Because I was doing this as a personal favor for Vol’jin, he made sure I had everything I needed. He had the medics make me plenty of bandages and I was given 2 pouches worth of Sacred Candles by the chandler. I was also given numerous potions and elixirs by the alchemist. I’m all set to go, I just want to say goodbye to my family before I leave.
My father can almost always be found in his small tent outside our hut cooking for the tribe. Beside him will be my mother, sitting in her chair, mending all the hand me down clothes that go ‘round the tribe so many times. My family prides themselves on being part of the tribe and would do anything for their people. As I walk into our small clay and stone hut, I smell fresh bread baking and there is a pot of Goldthorn Tea on the stove. I can see my younger sister asleep on the cot in the corner. I walk over and watch her sleep. I take a moment to brush the hair off her face with my fingers. She yawns sleepily as I sit down on the cot and cross my legs. She slowly climbs into my lap and rests her head on my shoulder.
“Are you going somewhere Ammy?” she asks in her tiny little voice. “I’ll be back soon! Maybe I’ll bring you something back from my journey if you’ve been good.” I tell her. She giggles at me, “Be careful, mon.” She always liked to impersonate my father. Our parents always nagged us about, “speaking proper,” and teasing us for always talking like our good friend, the Orc. At times, it seems that father is upset that my sister and I don’t use the, “traditional tongue,” it just never stuck with us I guess. We don’t mean any disrespect to our ancestors. It’s just more comfortable to speak this way.
I hand her the stuffed doll that used to be mine when I was her age. She holds it close to her heart and she slips back under the thick blanket on the cot and goes back to sleep. “Sleep well, Lilaja.” I set off to see my parents.
I can see the smoke coming from my father’s tent. I head inside. “Oh dere ya are Amedeah! We been lookin’ for ya! Now dis trip could put ya in ta some grave danga’ so ya be on yer lookout!” He comes over to wrap his arms around me and give me one of his famous bear hugs; it just about takes all the breath out of you. “Here.” He holds out his hands and I see a necklace with a fang shaped pendant. I pick it up and examine it a little closer. “Father! I cannot take this!” His father had killed Firemaw in the depths of Black Wing Lair and taken one of his many fangs and fashioned with it some twine into a necklace. It was a long, hard fight. My grandfather almost died; gladly he made it home again with only minor scratches and bruises. When my grandfather passed on to join our ancestors, he gave the necklace to my father; I was only a little girl, but even then I understood how much it meant to my father. “Dis,” he took the necklace from me to clasp it around my neck, “Will keep ya safe, young one. Take it, maybe your gran’fadda’s spirit will help aid ya on da way!” I held my father’s hands for a moment and we hugged one last time.
Gripping the fang, hoping to gather some strength in order to be able to say goodbye to my mother, I walked towards the back of the tent. There she was singing to out loud. She always sang old battle hymns when she was working around the house and doing chores. It was always soothing to me. I closed my eyes and just listened to her for a minute:
“We will never look back
To past battles we have won
As our new lives after fighting
Have just now begun”
My mother was beautiful. The long blue braids hung over her shoulders. I had her eyes, soulful and deep. Her cheeks were sun kissed from the days outside the hut. I walk over to her and she looks up from her needle work, “Ya always have ta listen, even for a little while, don’chya child?” She beams that smile at me. When I was a child, if I fell down or got hurt, a smile and a kiss on the nose would fix anything. “Ya know, I can tell that ya are just a little worried, child. But den again ya were always good at hidin’ it.” I look at the dirt floor, kick at a random rock, “I’ll be okay; always am.” She sets her things down and gets up from her chair. I hold my arms out and for once I am the one that is comforting her instead of the other way around. “I’ll be ok, I promise.” I stroke her hair and kiss her forehead and turn to leave. “Wait Ammy, take some tea and bread for lunch before ya go!” As I head back to the hut, I think to myself, “Always looking out for me, aren’t you ma?”
I grab a hunk of the fresh bread from the oven, my palms get burned a little, but boy is it worth it for some of my mother’s homemade bread. I grab a canteen from my backpack and pour some tea into it. I wrap my bread up in a small cloth towel and head for the door. I take one more look at my little sister; I’ll miss her the most.
What a long and hard journey I have ahead of me. I get myself into the right frame of mind and take my first step toward my goal. First stop, the Zeplin tower in Durotar. I’m sure Frezza will have another Goblin joke to tell me once I get there. I take the road West out of Sen’jin and then head North towards Razor Hill. I have a letter from my father to give to the Blacksmith there anyway, might as well drop it off on my way. It’s not a long walk to the Zeplin tower; I know it like the back of my hand. But in this hot sun, it always seems longer.
