Grim Views

Thunder rumbled in bruise colored clouds. Lightning zapped sand into clumps of glass until the entire desert looked like a litter box. An old orc straightened his gnarled legs and raised his powerful arms skyward. The chant began slowly, quietly, until it rocked through him and boomed over treeless miles. "Sister Rain and Brother Wind, " he began, "show us the way through the pass."

The pass. It had been haunting the triplets' every chore for two months. Wash these tarps before the pass. Run the worgs before the pass. Salt that fish before the pass. Pack this away before the pass. Repair that hinge before the pass.

On any given day there were chores. It was the caravan itself that required them. Dozens of families traveling together in one dusty herd. Turtle shell wagons on spindly wheels, wolves of every color imaginable pulling them. Yips, howls, growls and barking. Orcs of every color riding them. Laughter, crying, yells and shouting.

All of it led by Hau Greyseer. The elder. The shaman. The taskmaster. The grandfather. His wrinkled lime skin casting shadows over wise purple eyes. White haired and respected, he was called many things, but it was Gramps he liked best.

Tehau squashed a scorpid under her bare heel and scraped the goopy remains on dried grass. There were always clumps of dried grass between the rocks. Dried grass and snakes. She wasn't afraid of snakes. There were always snakes in the shadows, whispering things that didn't matter.

Baskets of clothing were placed in a crude circle around the triplets. Dehau's eyes glimmered briefly. "My sibs, check this out." She grinned crookedly and drew herself into a posture that vaguely resembled the Shadowblade. "Splay yourselves upon the rocks and become washed by the rain or I shall pelt you with snow." She ordered the dirty laundry unsuccessfully in a poor impression of Syreena. It was always a game of the triplets to mimic the leaders of The Grim. They'd get it down with the passing of time.

When it had been Grainger they had fixed each other with silent stern glares, dissolving into cackles to break the tension. When it had been Lascivious they'd charged right into each other's faces and threatened whippings. When their leader was Abric, they had used a hard boiled egg and two quills to amuse themselves for hours.

The Grim was their life. It held their buddies. The nice ones, the grumpy ones, the crazy ones, the lazy ones, the driven ones, the ugly ones, the stupid ones, the creepy ones. Their link to spilling the blood of pinkers. A release. A goal. A mandate.

Years ago they'd shouted "For The Grim!" after every successful kill. Every single kill that splattered them with blood on the ride to the Nether. They had rarely squandered time in the grounds for battles. "Practice battles," they'd said with distaste. Certainly they were fun, but they seemed a waste of time when you could run to the nearest city and cull an entire generation of pinkers.

Back then they'd been three orcs stretching out from the caravan, barely aware of the elements that worked beside them. Drunk with brew, power and rage and the newness of Azeroth spread out beneath their wide green feet. Catching word of an army that wanted blood and revenge and a world empty of threat.

Things were not so different now. They still rarely gave their power any thought. They were still drunk with brew, power,  rage and discovery. There were dozens of places they'd never been, thousands of buddos they'd never met, millions of pinkers they hadn't killed.

Certainly many had lost their hearthstones, destroyed their tabards, scrawled emotional letters. Yet it was always The Grim. The mandate had a heartbeat of its own. Like an old God, the force of the goal empowered them all.

The triplets had goals. And they did involve killing. They fell under the Mandate. "If a pinker can hold that title, then Grims can too. Easycakes." Dehau offered cheerfully.

"Yu-huh." Nehau grunted her agreement as she kicked laundry apart all over the desert. "What the biff with the rain taking so frikka long?" She muttered, half listening to her sisters, half listening for the voice of the wind.

"You know what I was thinking too?" Tehau began, spreading the clothes apart and smoothing the wrinkles so they'd catch more rain. "I was thinking if we figure out how to do this, get it down to a gob dang rhythm, we can make a biffing guide until every Grim has got that title pasted to their tabard and we scare the crudcakes outta those Fordragon kodoholes." she paused to catch her breath. "Don't you think?"

Dehau nodded enthusiastically and danced between the clumps of the entire caravan's collected undies. "Yeah totes!"

Nehau grunted again. " I dunno if everyone will dig that, but we'll get the backs of the ones that do my sibs."

"So we in?" Tehau asked as the rain began to sprinkle droplets and Nehau began to sprinkle flakes of dried herb soap.

"Let's do this!" The remaining triplets answered in unison as the clouds broke and the desert rain soaked the world. So this was where they were at, and this is what they were thinking... but they still hadn't made it through the pass.

                                                                                    --------FIRE-------

The rain hammered harder than Uncle Rurk in a rage, who was at the moment banging out buckles for the harnesses and rigging. "Give-that-to-me, get-me-my-hammer!" His words blurred together in a flurry. "What-in-Hellfire-do-ya-think-you're doing-you-little-trash-faced-pinch-skull-brainless-dungplop!?" Rurk's portable forge scorched the earth below and sent hissing smoke into the damp air as he ordered young caravan orcs to do his bidding.

Some distance off the triplets were standing ankle deep in suds. After the rain. It was weather like this that reminded them of learning fire. "Flame shock, sisters." Belan had always said. Flames had never really been their thing.  Not those, and especially not the ones in the Molten Core where the air was so hot Dehau had once described it as living like a flea in the armpit of a sweathouse tender. All of those Grim gathered. All of that armor.

But way before any of those things, they had learned the hard way how to call the red element.

A decade earlier Hau Greyseer, his hair pulled back from his leathery face, flopped three enormous slabs of kodo steak on a flat rock in a clearing where his grandaughters played. Kodo, the meal of their naming day, the strength of the herd. The meat was red under the sun, still bloody and freshly carved from the wild with spears, knives, and coordination.

It had been after a storm and everything still glimmered with rain though the noon sun had returned to flinging burns on uncovered skin. "The very best cuts," Hau told them, "are yours if you start the fire." That is all he said before he left the stocky orclings to their own devices.

His granddaughters would start their first fires on the muggiest, dampest, most impossible day of the year. They were meant for tasks like this. Working always together, they deserved no less of a challenge.

Tehau frowned and chewed on a silvery strand of knotted hair. Sunburnt patches dotted her green skin with aqua. "I was so excited." She stated lazily, watching the meat turn less red with resentful eyes.

"That won't stay good for long." Nehau added glumly, resting her hands on her pot belly and scowling at the hazy sky.

Dehau hopped up and rubbed drool on the hem of her drab shirt. "Then we gotta hurry." She urged in a squeaky voice.

It came to be that time passed quickly. The steaks on the rocks gathered a thin brown sheen. Flies buzzed in and out of the clearing, not believing their huge shimmering eyes. Unguarded meat. Unwanted meat. Free meat.

It came to be that the triplets managed, however grumpily, to throw together a pile of wood, kindling and tinder. The clump was rotten, damp and hastily constructed. Tufts of green wood poked throughout, shoved in by uncaring hands.

It came to be that they found a flamestick in the supply boxes with which to light it. They were not allowed to use the flame stick but had used it plenty of times anyway. It sputtered. It sizzled. It damply twinkled in the vapourous air.

"Not working!" Nehau suddenly declared, throwing up her hands and showing her tusks in frustration.

Tehau continued to click the mechanism, her finger blistered from pulling the dial back and holding. "I have a plan then." She offered matter-of-factly, concentrated and serious. "Here's what we'll do. Remember that stuff Uncle Gusk told us could peel the green from a turtle shell?"

"Yu-huh." Dehau clearly remembered the scolding they'd gotten when they'd shaken the canister of foul smelling volatile rum.

"What's that got to do with this?" Nehau asked suspiciously. Tehau's ideas often led to more work and little results.

"It's flame-a-bull." Tehau explained.

"What's that?" Dehau asked.

"It means it burns lots." Nehau grunted.

Three sets of orange-purple eyes brightened over the dark sticks and smoke between them. It wasn't long before they had no eyebrows left and a roaring fire ready for their Gramps' approval. He arrived at their call and sniffed the air with disappointment.

Staring at each of their soot darkened features he shook his head. "No." He stated simply before setting to the task of shooing away hundreds of tiny fire elementals. "Begone little ones!" He chided the orange sparks as they stumbled off drunkenly, sickened by the rum soaked wood.

Not until the very last had left did he turn to his grand daughters. "That is not the way. Begin again."

The first task was to guard the meat. It was undeniably apparent someone needed to guard the meat from the flies. Much time had passed and they'd sent words to their families that kodo steaks lay wasting on the rocks in plain view. The flies were hungry and the meat was plenty. This fell to Nehau who had endurance and was quite an expert at smashing the small black buzzers.

The second task was to gather more wood. This fell to Tehau who was precise and the best at finding small pieces that the others overlooked. She was very interested in the way the needles fell from the pines and which layer was the driest. Thoughtfully she piled them together in a cluster to ignite.

The third task was the calling. Dehau was in charge of befriending a spark from the wagon lanterns.  She was the most open and kind hearted. She was patient in just the right way to lure an elemental to their cook fire. "Come on to a feast." She chittered cheerfully until she found a taker. Then another and another until soon they had a party.

This was their first fire and after Gramps approved he offered them a crinkle faced smile and help cooking the steaks, which were and always would be their sacred food.

((awesome stuff!))

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------WATER-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The clouds were gone just as quickly as they came and the triplets frowned at one another across a white sea of foam. The laundry was soapy and still filthy and no water remained for rinsing. "What now?" Nehau asked angrily, kicking her feet in the quickly drying mess. "This isn't gonna work without any water."

Dehau just laughed and stooped down to scoop up a handful. Beneath her bare feet the laundry formed a soggy carpet across desert sand. "Why didn't we ever do this sooner?" She asked her sisters with a happy cackle.

"Because this plan is an epic failure." Tehau responded matter-of-factly. "Gramps is gonna come over here and ask why we didn't just haul out the water barrels." It had been her plan to spread everything out and let the storm do the work.  Technically it was her fault but the triplets always took their falls together. She wasn't worried about that.

Gramps, with a sixth sense for trouble detection, rode up on the back of a gruff old worg. He noticed the lack of barrels, the lack of rain and the lack of clean laundry hanging up to dry. The triplets meanwhile were hurriedly pushing the froth off and shaking whatever pieces they could manage. He dismounted, dismissed the worg and stood there quietly, unnoticed and waiting.

"So what do you think though?" Tehau asked to pass the time as they worked quickly to cover their tracks. "Shove that onto the sand." She ordered Dehau.

"Gob! I'm doing it!" Dehau sighed in exasperation, she was already sweating profusely in the impossible weather. Tehau's plans required a lot of work which meant a lot of getting bossed. "It's a frikka awesome plan to be battlemasters because we wanted to do that anyway."

"Aw yeah. It's gonna be so sweet. All the gobbos are gonna freak, and can you biffing imagine the look on Gurmie's face? The crowning glory of our entire lives and he's afraid of battling in even the dinky matches." They grunted and cheered and slapped high fives all around until they noticed their Gramps standing there disapprovingly.

"Uhh..." Nehau offered a soapy grin and a wave.

"We decided to try something different." Tehau added, her eyes averted.

"Isn't this neat looking Gramps?" Dehau asked innocently with a sweeping gesture to the mess around them.

"I am very disappointed." He answered. "Where are the water barrels?"

"This is just drip and dry soap we brewed up." Tehau lied with wide eyes. "You just let the suds kinda flatten and then BAM! Clean as new."

Gramps knew better, as he always did. The triplets were terrible liars. There were lessons for them to learn. "What is this battlemaster talk Dehau'wa'naa?" He waited silently for an answer from the grand daughter most likely to confess.

"We're gonna get serious about getting recognized Gramps. Battlemaster is what they call all the buddos that do weird junk in the Gulch, or the Valley or um the Basin... those kinda places." She answered proudly,  jumping in, though she was somewhat doubtful he would approve.

Nehau and Tehau groaned. Dehau always gave their Gramps the benefit of the doubt. "Crudapples." One of them muttered quietly as his face took on a steely expression. Dehau grunted nervously and nodded repeatedly.

"Will the title bring you extra strength?" he asked calmly but from the set of his jaw it was apparent they'd made another wrong decision.

"Uhh, yeah it totes will because pups will see it and then-"Tehau tried to get her arguement out as quickly as possible but it was as flawed as her laundry plan.

"It will make you a target. It will not make you stronger." He fixed each with his signature look, part anger, part wisdom. "Clean this up. You can take a wagon to the river, bring the laundry with you." His hands were steady as he lifted up his favorite shirt and shook it briefly with a frown. "Your goals have become selfish. You bring yourselves shame."

They took an open wagon to the river. The ride was silent and stewing. Nehau took the reigns with angry fists clenched. Her mount Giota led, Vergar and Logak were right behind. Jiasp the youngest ran alongside them, unhitched and yipping. Dehau and Tehau kneeled in back with the soggy baskets of laundry.

"Shame on us." Dehau offered feebly with a half grin.

"Bwaha." Tehau said without much enthusiasm.

"Whatevs." Nehau grunted as she pulled to the left.

(( I totes love you gals. ))

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------EARTH----------------------------------------------------------------

Sandy rocks jutted from the river bank where crocolisks lazily sunned themselves before slinking into still water like clumps of mud. Tehau jumped down first from the wagon, red mud against lime skin as her feet were quickly covered in silt. In some places at this river in the right kind of weather you could sink in mud up to your waist or even further.

"We gotta tell Uncle Gusk it's almost time." she commented, gesturing at the sticky path down the bank and clay perfect for making pottery.

Nehau rolled her eyes, still annoyed at her Gramps and both her uncles. The entire caravan. The world in general. "He's just gonna want us to gather it for him. He'll whine something about his back and sore joints then hand us over three baskets to fill. Not happening."

Dehau unhitched the worgs from the wagon and gave them swift taps on their snouts. "Go get 'em." She ordered enthusiastically, encouraging them to chase the puppy. But Jiasp always had way too much energy to contend with and the older mounts ignored her order.

"Bwaha." She cackled cheerfully and shrugged, hefting a pile of laundry down to the river where she lazily beat cloth on the rocks. Her sisters joined, faces to the sun, eyes half shut. Mud burbled at their feet and the crocolisks kept their distance.

"It really is perfect, my sibs." Dehau sighed in satisfaction, forgetting to work the soap and filth from the cloth as she talked.

"What's perfect?" Tehau asked distractedly.

"Make sure you don't stop beating that on the rock." Nehau grunted and punched her sister on the arm with half force.

Dehau cackled, rubbed the future bruise and did her best to clean and converse all at once. "The clay. It's perfect for gathering."

Nehau sighed with annoyance. "Now we're gonna have to get it Dehau."

Tehau grinned. "It's prolly best we do because otherwise we're gonna have to wet and mix it. 'Sides, you frikka know they already know it's perfect for gathering. This is just another Gob dang test." The muddy water turned sudsy as they worked and the scent chased the crocs further downstream.

The triplets exchanged a narrow eyed nod of agreement. Their Gramps was always testing them like this and more often than not they failed. He was trying to encourage them to become responsible caravan leaders and protectors of their people. They had a long way to go and no true desire to go there.

"A true leader must be able to comprehend everything his people does." Gramps had once told them as he lowered himself onto a tiny carved stool and gathered the red clay in his wrinkly hands. "I already know that this will be a very lumpy jar," he laughed "but I will soon also know the patience and skill that lives in the potter's hands."

His three young grand daughters half listened as they tossed their own lumps of clay from hand to hand.

"Yup." one of them said obligingly.

"Gotcha." another added.

"Totes." was the final word.

He smiled in spite of himself. These lessons would come with time. He had once been a headstrong orcling himself. Wisdom came with time and trials. Patience, time and trials.

Once the laundry was finished they piled the wet clothes at the front of the wagon and wordlessly used the laundry baskets to gather the red clay.

"Maybe that'll be it for a while." Dehau said hopefully once they'd finished and rehitched the worgs.

"Doubtful." Nehau countered.

"Yeah, not so near to the frikka pass." Tehau added.

                                        ------------------ AIR---------------

"Doesn't matter." Nehau suddenly added over the noise of prayer chants. She and her sisters were piling their plates high with a feast while the elders of the caravan spoke with the spirits. "Doesn't matter if they're ticked we skip out tonight, Gramps himself said you can't make everyone happy, am I right?"

"Yeah but he didn't mean skimp the caravan tasks." Tehau pointed out, ripping the meat from a leg of plainstrider and chewing with her mouth open. Sauce splattered everywhere and she grinned with satisfaction. "Good stuff, try it?"

Dehau grunted, her eyes watering from some sort of pepper. "Uh-huh. Yup. He'll be mega ticked. Someone'll prolly die somehow too and it'll be blamed on us. Gob dang it I'm on fire!" She cackled as she pushed aside her plate and fanned the air in front of her mouth. "Try one of those mini purple peppers. Unholy biff."

"Bwaha!" Nehau laughed gleefully and popped one in her mouth. Tehau dug messy fingers through her plate until she found one as well. Without a pause to think they chewed viciously then gulped, shrugging briefly before their eyes began to water also.

"The back of my throat is mega ticked." Nehau suddenly proclaimed with a loud belch. "It's jerking around like it isn't even part of me." she snickered as tears ran down her cheeks.

Tehau nodded miserably. "We gotta find some more of those. They could come in handy."

Meanwhile Gramps, Gusk and Rurk finished their plea to the spirits. "It will work." Hau reassured a worried mother. She nodded, purple rings around her eyes, looking as ill as the child she carried. "I cannot breathe when he cannot breathe." She told them again.

"It feels. Like some. One is sitting. On my chest." The skinny whelp offered, widening his large brown eyes.

Hau nodded sympathetically, resting a hand briefly and lightly on the orcling's head. "Air is most important when it cannot be found. The poultice will help. Then it is just a matter of getting to the pass." His orange eyes were kind though his face was lined and stern. His caravan had not been the same since it had suffered the fever. A plague.

Not the plague that leveled Lordaeron. But a plague nonetheless. The youngest children were stricken with strange ailments. A few were always absent, stuck inside their own minds. No amount of prayer, chanting, or potions would cure them. Several others were often feverish for no discernable reason. Still more had trouble breathing and most were unbelievably weak for orclings.

The pass was Hau's answer to his people. He had failed his caravan once before, he would not fail them again. He would not fail them, but perhaps his granddaughters would. He frowned at the thought as soon as he had it. But it was true.

After all had finished eating Hau stood and addressed them. "It will be dark," he began. "There will be dangerous creatures and dangerous thoughts. You will think you see things that you do not. If you cannot trust me and do as I tell you, you should not come. Yet I cannot stop you. All are welcome in the pass."

They were gathered around the communal fire. Everyone was there. Even the sickest of the children sat spellbound, wide eyes always watching quietly. No one asked anything. No one made any claims. They had done all of their asking and claiming months ago.

"Aw yeah." The triplets offered half-hearted cheers to fill the silence as they lay flat out on the sand, faces to the stars, stomachs bulging from the feast. A soft wind had begun to stir, to blow the muggy air away from the circle of wagons and the tribe within.  The flames rose higher as the wind fed them. The prayer was working. This was the wind that would lead the Greyseer caravan through.

The time for the pass was upon them all. One more sunrise and they would clip the worgs to the wagons and drive for days up the mountains. It would be a lot of work to get the caravan through ancient paths. Every strong arm would be needed. And no one, not even Hau, knew exactly what lay ahead.

-----------------------------------------------------------------HEART---------------------------------------------------


"Gramps, we gotta prob." The triplets began at once as they congregated outside his warmly lit wagon. Hau had been studying a faded map and he set it aside with steady hands. The raspy voices of his granddaughters were slightly sober and aggitated. He took a deep breath before listening intently, even he was challenged at sorting them out when they talked at once in a mood like this.

"Totes not sure if we can vibe with angry 'tudes." Dehau finally stated, amber light spilling onto her face. Hau watched the curtains blow towards his hammock and waited patiently for them to gather their thoughts and elaborate. He assumed it had something to do with the work they were so unusually determined to do. The treasure hunting.

"We went into this biffing dungeon and Las got all blame game on Nehau. I kid you not." Tehau explained with an incredulous expression and a frustrated wave of her arms.

Hau chuckled knowingly. "That will happen triplets. If you continue to seek treasure with others, it will happen again. It won't always mean that it is your fault. Nor will it mean that it is not." He paused and took a sip of chilled spirit water. "The only things you can control are your reactions and what you will do next."

The three orcs grunted, their expression tense, brows lowered over darkened eyes. The color was more purple than orange in the lantern light. The eyes of their grandmother. He sighed slightly with a pang of grief. Twenty some years and he still felt it just as strongly when it surfaced. Their grandmother had not had such a temper.

"I guess we gotta decide to let it go." Dehau admitted.

"The deal is, it sucks when you don't get time to prove yourself and you gotta go out like that. But whatevs." Nehau grumbled.

"Yeah. Whatevs." Tehau added, punching her fist into her palm.

"You have learned from this, and that makes me proud. As long as you are learning you are not wasting time." Hau advised them, his voice slow and calm. "Not all lessons will be fun or easy. Most will be the exact opposite."

"It's not like the spirit healer gives up or anything." Nehau snickered, her mood shifting slightly.

"It's not like the repair bill is paid in blood." Tehau added, picking up the shift.

"It's not like our training got all demoted." Dehau shrugged with a small grin.

"If you are going to seek treasure you will have to learn to work with all types of others. The good and the bad. Certainly the event was not all bad." He urged them on.

"Yeah it wasn't. Aquizit said something pretty funny." Nehau agreed, patting her pocket filled with notes.

Hau listened to them work out the problem for a few moments longer before returning to his map. "You can discuss all of this while you purify the worgs." He informed them firmly.

They stopped in mid cheer, fist pounds frozen together. "More work?" Nehau asked incredulously.

"Tomorrow is the pass." Hau nodded his grizzled head. "The work will mean little as you chatter." When it came to tasks Hau was immovable.

"I know I messed up some junk in there." Tehau admitted over the back of a miserable wet worg. Beside them a tweaked noise machine filled the desert night with beats. Far to the north the fire lights gleamed from the circle of wagons. They had bunches of Greyseer wolves gathered by the water, laying in piles of four or five thick, summer coats gleaming with the oils of stank dog.

"Yeah, yeah." Nehau snorted, surveying the work ahead, bobbing her head to one of their favorite songs.

"Nothing to make you feel more like a newborn than a few trips from the spirit healer to reclaim your shoddy armor." Dehau groaned.

"Going in blind was newborn of us. We said we'd never do it again and we did." Nehau spat, working up a huge lather on Giota's dark back.

"I pretty much knew that was gonna happen." Dehau lied as she dumped a rinse bucket on Logak's head.

"Did not." Tehau cackled, holding Vergar in water up to his scrawny neck.

"Okay not, but next time Ima know right away." Dehau snickered.  A reddish puppy heard her laugh and approached the edge of the water, whistle-whining right in her face. "Knock it off Jiasp!" She ordered, tugging him forward by his scruffy ears. He skittered into the water with a yelp and a plunk.

"Washing fifty worgs is gonna rub the skin from my dang hands and they're already messed up from banging on the door of the Halls of Stone for thirty minutes." Nehau complained, wiping her forehead with her forearm. All over her head static from the strange wind raised her purple hair from its white roots.

"Can't believe the pass is tomorrow and we still haven't paid the biffing gobbos back." Tehau suddenly yelled. "I got about six letters in my post bin that accused all kinda nastiness. And they're charging one hundred gold interest every gob dang hour."

"No way!" Dehau exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"Yup." Tehau cackled. "For serious."

"Okay then they can wait a few more years for their coinage." Nehau snickered. "What are they gonna do? Come and fight us? Yeah right."

Tehau cackled and shook her head. "They don't do that kinda thing. Puny arms and junk."

"Exacto. It's all good." Dehau grinned and splashed another worg into the bath.

Suddenly there was silence. The noise maker's red light gleamed suspiciously from the sand under a cactus. Nehau pulled herself up onto land and peered down at it. "Great. They're gonna cut us off their transmission." Stomping her feet in rage she kicked the square box of speakers viciously until the red light dimmed and went out.

They washed the rest of the worgs in quiet, the only noise the rhythm of slopping soap and water, the song of whining dogs and the howl of coyotes far far away.

                                                                The sky was yellow, the very air was yellow and it tinted things in strange ways as the breeze guided them onward. Hau sat on his wagon seat, a stubborn expression tilting his jaw and lowering his brow. Seventy some years Hau had been raising the worgs that pulled the caravan along. The worgs pulled. The wind pushed.

It was a quiet ride. One empty wagon was hitched to the back of the line. Inside brightly colored blankets lay in piles on the floor beneath three hammocks. Assorted crates of worthless junk filled every corner. There were parchments filled with scribbles and empty bowls long since licked clean. His triplets and their worgs were no where to be found.

Hau frowned from the bench and pulled the reigns a little tighter. He had long since left desert behind for dry grassland. It was harder for the wagons to pull through the waist high fields. But Hau knew his wolves. They would lead the way and smooth a path for the others. He would push them no harder than they were capable, and they would pull no harder than he allowed.

The sky, the strange yellow sky, cast a spell on them all. Even his faded eyes were not immune from the eerie calm. No clouds to mar the color. No sun behind the haze. But the breeze, the fresh breeze washing them with the smell of magic. Coppery. Electric.

Far ahead there were mountains. He could see them despite the miles.. Farsight, a gift from the spirits that did not fail him. They were nearing the pass and there was nothing he could do about his missing granddaughters. It was senseless to worry. They would arrive in time, or they would not. The lines on his face were from years in the sun.



Booty Bay was filled with panicked screams as a particularly energetic troll whirled across the planks holding a ridiculously large sword at the exact height to cleave goblin heads from goblin shoulders. "Udie Isurviv!" He shouted in a garbled voice. "Udie! Isurviv!" He repeated again, spitting hundreds of flecks at his victims in a matter of seconds.

Goblin Bruisers rushed to aid the merchants, the ones that held the precious gold. The ones that might tip them if they managed to save them. They didn't manage at all. They joined the growing pile of corpses and their blood ran through the boards and dripped into the water beneath the Port.

Sharks gathered and ignored the smattering of Speckled Tastyfish. Sharks cared little for this goblin delicacy. They wanted more lard. More food, less effort to sustain their leagues of swimming yet to go. A druid traveling perhaps. This far south they had little hope for a Tuskarr.

Nehau looked up from the bar, vaguely interested in all the shouting. "Udie... Isuriv?" She puzzled thoughtfully, ever so thoughfully under the influence of celebration.

"Udie..." Dehau wondered, leaning back with eyes half closed. The entire room smelled thick with shimmerweed.

"Isurviv." Tehau added with a half laugh. She was sprawled on the floor behind the empty tavern counter, tipping bottles of something foggy and green into a cup. "This better not be Frog Venom Brew." She snickered lazily, sloshing half the contents.

"Yeah seriously. Whatev Cristok said. Frikka good stuff, but we don't need help with our back doors if you read me." Dehau added with a strange expression on her face.

Nehau drew a deep breath from a pipe then interrupted the intake with a sudden cackle. "Morning logs, he said." A puff of thick gray swirled from her mouth and nostrils. She passed the implement to Tehau and took the bottle in return, lost in her thoughts and filled with silent shaking giggles.

The triplets had been coming here to party about once a week every week. It was a place to kick back and relax. To pilfer the empty bar while goblins ran screaming into the streets, warriors on their heels, blades gleaming in the hot sun.

"We gotta do that pass thing sometime today." Nehau snickered and closed her bloodshot eyes.

"Yeah we do. Aw yeah. It's gonna be awesome, getting that over with." Tehau agreed and stared blankly at the sparkling embers in the pipe. "Shimmer." She said softly and promptly laughed until she coughed.

"Shimmer is such a... some kinda word. Pass!" Dehau demanded with drunken precision, reaching over the counter to take the pipe from her sister. "It's a granny word."

"How much do we owe them now?" Nehau inquired half-interested.

"Fifteen Thousand, three hundred and seventy three." Tehau said slowly, walking her feet up the wall and enjoying the sound of the words if not the debt.

"Good thing all this stuff is free." Dehau offered with a grin and a puff.

It would be hours before most of the goblins were reinstalled in their bodies and the triplets always made a point to make the most of their time before then. When the merchants returned the bar  would be empty. All of the alcohol would be gone and a strange shimmering film would cover every surface in the establishment.

Gramps led his people further. They had long since left the waist high weeds and come upon a narrow path at the foot of the mountains. A wash out from mountain snow? An ancient walk? A trail used by animals? The breeze urged them onward, though the wagons barely fit.

Meanwhile in Booty Bay the triplets stood on top of the rolling ocean waiting for the boat, their bare feet glistening with fish oil. Shark fins cut the impossible blue surface around them but they were unphased. Sharks didn't scare them any more than snakes.

The sharks were just as unphased by the triplets. A more suitable meal had arrived. A horned seal poked its head from the water, chocolate brown eyes large with panic. He waved a fin at the Greyseers and tried to swim closer. A strange bellow issued from his mouth. A scream? The sharks tightened their loop.

"What the biff?" Dehau cackled and reached out a strong arm to the fin with a casual shrug.

He morphed on his way out of the water, narrowly missing the loss of a hoof. Scrawny arms and legs shivered and he shook his head again and again until he stood atop the surface, bearing his own weight, pale hooves shining with the oil that slicked the surface of sea between them. His wet white fur looked pathetic pink and now that he was in his original form, the sharks lost their interest.

"What's your name buddo?" Dehau asked in her friendly tone.

He shook his head and his eyes filled with tears. There had been so much blood in the water.

"We'll call you Shaky then." Tehau stated with a relaxed drunken grin.

Nehau grunted and splashed him with a disinterested healing wave.

Shaky nodded thankfully and waited alongside them for the boat, shivering every so often as the adrenaline wore off.

They were in the thick of the mountains now. On either side the walls of rock went up, up, up, so far they could not see the sky. Shadows thickened around them and the air began to waver. With heat? It was cold in the mountains and the chill of thin air sank to their bones. Gramps wrapped a blanket more tightly over his shoulders and flicked the reigns with frozen hands.

Worg breath fogged the air in cold clouds around their muzzles. They pressed onward eagerly, always eager to go forward, go faster, run. They weren't allowed to run on such dangerous paths. The rocks beneath their rough padded feet skittered and they lost their footing easily. It was slow and steady, stable and smooth. Keeping the wagons upright. They stopped straining in their harnesses and found the rhythm of the mountain.

The magic in the air thrummed. It buzzed around all of their ears. They found themselves dizzy with it. Breathless. The sick children among them turned a little blue. They pressed onward.

It was dark now, not entirely. The strange darkness between night and day, their eyes adjusted. They didn't realize it was dark. They wouldn't realize it until they lit the lanterns.

They were in the pass.

Foggy shapes were wavering all around them. Their heads buzzed softly, the magic smelled stronger here.  At the end of the line the empty wagon rattled, hitched to another and pulled along by Uncles Gusk and Rurk. The triplets had not arrived in time.

Gramps was surprised briefly to see someone sitting in the wagon beside him. Was it his wife? Had she come to sit beside him again as he drove the worgs along their trails, leading the caravan to safety and fresh water? To land filled with Gazelle and Zevra? Kodo? He was shocked and let the reigns lie slack in his lap.

His heart swelled and he reached for her hand. She was real and he was a ghost. She smiled at him and grabbed his empty hands. His hands had become so wrinkled, so weathered. He felt hope rise in his throat. It really was her.

"Hau." She half whispered and reached out touch his forehead between the eyes. He didn't want to let go of her hands. All he could think was not to let go. "Hau, pay attention to the road." She urged softly.

Someone was wailing from far off. Three wagons back a mother screamed for help as all around her fog thickened and a small geist wrapped his body around her pale son. "He can't breathe!" She choked. "Someone help him! He can't breathe!" She tried again to grasp the spindly ghoul but her hands passed right through him. She was mist, a ghost, unable to save Grelk, her only child.

Hau's wife took the reigns. She heard the wailing mother and she knew the pain. Beside her in the wagon her husband looked withered, ephemeral. The worgs responded to her commands. The caravan moved onward. They trudged through the pass at a molasses pace.

The road was dangerous and most of the ghosts were deadly. All throughout the line orcs screamed and discovered they were without form and strength. Helpless to save their geist haunted children. Unless she could get them through the pass. Dozens of worgs followed the lead wagon, their ears pricked and nervous.

An orcling affected by disinterest sat placidly, spindly ghoul fingers wrapped over his ears and eyes. His father tried to pry the creature away but could not find enough strength in his transparent hands. This was the pass, a veil where two worlds met. The creatures plaguing them revealed. But what could they do about it? What were Hau's orders?

No one knew. The wagon marched onward and the grizzled orc elder clung to his wife's hands. Or tried to cling. She drove the worgs harder, cussing quietly, her violet eyes gleaming with determination. A thick braid hung down her back, he reached out to touch it. Her beautiful hair, so soft and sweet smelling.

He touched it. He felt it in his hands, he lifted it as the wagons pressed onward. Screams became more desperate. His people were crying his name. Suddenly fire surged in him. He shook off the vapor and stood on the bench of the head wagon, using her shoulder to support his balance. "Fight them!" He yelled. "Beat them away from your children! It is time! Fight them with all your spirit!"

The wagons rolled still onward as everywhere orcs in the caravan found they were no longer insubstantial. They met the geists on equal terms and pulled them from their children. Pulled them from the sick ones, the weak ones, the weary, the terrified. Geists scrambled from the enraged parents. They were killed and silver blood stained the stones beneath paws and wheels.

Hau found his balance disrupted as his hand passed once more through the ghost of his wife. She handed him the reigns. They shared one loving look before she faded quickly and was gone.

Lanterns were quickly lit as the fog lifted. Behind the line the path was absolute darkness. All was quiet but the soft whimpering of a mother orc three wagons back, her son Grelk lying still in her arms. "He's not dead." She told anyone that came near her. She had failed to beat back the geist that strangled him. Grelk was dead.

They moved onward, until they came to a clearing a few miles from the pass. This was where they would regroup in safety and bury their losses. Hau had designated it for a celebration. He had been determined not to fail his people. He had failed them after all.

The triplets were waiting in the clearing, their eyes bloodshot and their breath smelling of brew. He could not even look at them. A mourning song had been taken up. The soft sounds of it did nothing to cover the sobbing of Grelk's mother.

Above Nehau's head a brown crow circled nervously, his feathers ruffled and sparse. It was difficult to fly high over Kalimdor. Something about the earth pulled at him. He wanted to land but he was afraid of the orcs gathered. So many orcs, some of them so angry.

"Heya Gramps! Did we miss anything good?" Dehau grinned around the clearing and waited for an answer. The tension was as thick as Hau's raging blood.

"We lost  a child." was all he offered.

Shaky's eyes nervously darted around the wagons. He had magic that could help. He could help these orcs if they would let him. He landed on the earth with an awkward jerk and reformed as his skinny tauren self.

"Let me see him?" it came out as a plea when his voice cracked mid sentence.

Hau raised a grizzled brow suspiciously. He had not been able to find the concentration to revive the child. They were still in danger and he had failed all attempts. "I will show you." he agreed after a moment's silence. Shaky nodded respectfully and hobbled along behind.

The quiet tauren looked the orcling over. Skin cold, eyes open, heart silent...  but he had not stiffened with death. Shaky fumbled in a leather pouch and pulled forth a stranglethorn seed still fresh from the day's gathering on the jungle floor. Hau reassured the bereaved mother as the young druid wiped away the dirt and placed it in Grelk's open mouth.

Shaky's eyes rolled back in his head and whitened as magic glowed between his clumsy hands, gathering power. The seed in Grelk's mouth dissolved into nothing. Shaky stood over him but he was also far away, in the middle of the emerald dream. His spirit flew as a crow to the grove where he chose to plant the spirit seed he carried in his brittle beak. He pecked at the rich soil and buried it deep, for a long life.

When he opened his eyes again the magic flowed into the child and color returned to the still features. Hau's sad eyes filled with gratitude. Grelk and his mother reunited and the songs of mourning softened, now sung for those long dead. Those they had seen in the pass.

Hau thought of his wife again as he led Shaky to the night fires forming in the center of the wagon ring. "We have been through much these past few miles. And you will always be welcome among us."

The triplets watched resentfully as their Gramps showered Shaky with appreciation and the best food their people had to offer. "This sucks." They said at once and grunted. "Let's go chill somewhere else for a while." One of them suggested and they crept off without a word, unable to face the disappointment in Hau's eyes.