The heat of the campfire washed over her blue-green skin and reflected sharply in her crimson eyes, but she was silent now, still. She was at peace here, though something about this jungle still got under her skin.
“It been a long time since you last visit, Uloo,” an Elder said from his position across the fire. “We been worryin’ ‘bout you. Glad ta see ya be okay.”
There were several other faces around the warm fire. Villagers, old friends, even family. Just faces to Uloo now. She never reacted to the old troll’s words—never even looked up. Beside her, a common-looking prairie wolf stretched out on the warm dirt with a yawn. His dull tan fur was highlighted with hints of golden honey. The wolf seemed pleased to be at rest. Through the awkward silence, several villagers admired the hunting hound, whispering about him to one another.
“Let me tell you a story… of how this wolf found me.” A raspy low voice spoke, a voice that sounded unused and foreign. Uloo no longer carried her trollish accent.
The crowd murmured, clearly interested.
~*~*~*~
“I had been working independently, in Durotar, for some time. I worked alone and for a few silver per job. It suited me well until a routine gig led me into a Harpy ambush. I’d barely escaped with my life, despite my cunning and quick bow.” She gestured to a set of scars on her shoulder that appeared to be talon marks. “On my way back to my client, it occurred to me that if I was going to work alone, I shouldn’t be alone.” One corner of her blue lips upturned in a smirk.
“As I’m sure you know, I despise cooperating with most bipeds while on the job, so I immediately began pondering over a hunting companion with more sense—an animal. It would need to be smart, but not so independent. Trainable. Durable. Fierce. I’d heard good things about a certain lineage of wolves bred in Mulgore. A small tribe of Tauren have been breeding hunting wolves for generations. They are the sharpest I’ve ever seen. I decided to go investigate the claims.”
Several villagers seemed intrigued; some tipped their heads aside, some sat up, curiously.
“When I arrived at the small settlement, the Tauren seemed spooked by my arrival—a worn and torn troll woman traveling alone. It wasn’t until after I told them I was seeking one of their famed hunting dogs that I was welcomed into the community. These villagers lived very poorly; it was evident that they depended on the income made from selling these dogs to travelers.
One hulking Tauren man led me back to their Den and showed me a handful of splendid specimens. Each wolf was stronger, faster, and deadlier than the first. I was quite impressed but still weary. ‘So how much are we talking here?’ I asked the massive bull-man. ‘500 gold,’ He replied, like it was common change.
I laughed aloud. Having come to Durotar with nothing, I still had nothing.
‘I wasted my time coming here. And yours.’ As I turned to walk out, the Tauren raised his voice to me. ‘WAIT. There is …one that I would give you.’ I turned around, a sly expression on my face. The bull-man gestured to a smaller wolf in the corner.
Its fur was dull. It was a bit thin. It was chewing on a rock…
‘No thanks. Not interested. I’d do better on my own than with that mongrel.’ I left the Tauren village and headed back to Durotar on a lonely dirt road. The Tribesman shouted out to me, but I didn’t listen.”
To Be Continued…
