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| - “Be patient, Roshanar. Don’t twist it, just let it… there. Good.”Thorm Skychaser nodded in approval, his graying beard hiding a proud smile as the afternoon wind tossed it about. The young, dark-furred tauren the shaman was watching grunted as he released his concentration, carefully placing the newly plucked petals into a glass vial. “I think that’s all of them, father. “Thorm nodded. “Yes. This should be enough to last for the month, provided we can get them properly stored quickly. Let’s go find your brother and head back to the camp, it’s getting on towards dusk.”Roshanar grinned, handing his father the vial of harvested herbs as they began making their way over the hill. “Think they’ll let me cook those fish I caught for dinner? Makewa showed me how she does it, and I’d love to try.”
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| - “Be patient, Roshanar. Don’t twist it, just let it… there. Good.”Thorm Skychaser nodded in approval, his graying beard hiding a proud smile as the afternoon wind tossed it about. The young, dark-furred tauren the shaman was watching grunted as he released his concentration, carefully placing the newly plucked petals into a glass vial. “I think that’s all of them, father. “Thorm nodded. “Yes. This should be enough to last for the month, provided we can get them properly stored quickly. Let’s go find your brother and head back to the camp, it’s getting on towards dusk.”Roshanar grinned, handing his father the vial of harvested herbs as they began making their way over the hill. “Think they’ll let me cook those fish I caught for dinner? Makewa showed me how she does it, and I’d love to try.” Thorm chuckled. “I think that can be arranged. With as much as you eat, I can imagine they can use all the help they can get.” Roshanar snorted and rolled his eyes, summoning a more robust laugh out of the older tauren as they crested the rise.The sound of the laughter bounced off the canyon walls, catching the attention of the bull they were walking to meet. Beram looked up from the root he had been carefully slicing strips from. “Time to head in already, father?”Thorm took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. “Not all of us are young enough to spend all day and night at this, son. Besides, there’s more to life than gathering supplies. Let’s…”The shaman’s words trailed off and his brows knitted warily as he noticed a trio of large, armed figures approaching from the other direction. All three were covered in dark fur and they were carried the trappings of a hunting party, but did not appear to be carrying any prey. “Earthmother’s blessing, brothers. Is there something we can help you with?” Thorm called out as Roshanar and Beram turned to see who he was addressing.The other three tauren came to a stop a dozen yards away. The largest of the three eyed the Skychasers for a moment, his gaze lingering on Roshanar, who looked away. “You’re Thorm Skychaser. Shaman for the camp of Bloodhoof-followers around here, yes?” The bull spat on the ground.Thorm drew himself up to his full height. “I am. Who are you?”The other tauren sneered, ignoring the question. “We’ve come to collect. That boy…” he pointed at Roshanar. “…it’s time he rejoined his kin. If you’re going to follow that weak-willed simpering fool, that’s your affair. But we’re not going to stand by and let you fill his head with that nonsense.”Beram took a step forward. “Why, you dung-headed…”“Beram.” Thorm’s voice was sharp and biting, uncharacteristic for the gentle shaman. Beram looked to his father, surprised, and stepped back, as the elder Skychaser addressed the Grimtotem. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to refuse. Roshanar is a Skychaser. He is my son, and my son he will remain. I’ve no quarrel with your tribe, and I’d ask that you offer mine the same respect.”The speaker for the other three grunted and nodded to the other two, who hefted their spears. “Don’t be foolish, old one. I wasn’t asking. The tribe has been lenient in allowing you to be responsible for him for so long, but this is not open to discussion. It’s bad enough that Bloodhoof’s weakness has become the representation of our people, but to let one of our blood remain under his influence? It can no longer be tolerated.” The three hunters took a step forward.Thorm narrowed his eyes and set his hooves solidly in place. In a firm, quiet voice, he muttered, “Run, my sons.” Roshanar and Beram stared at the shaman. The younger opened his mouth to speak. “But…”With a roar, the graying shaman launched himself at the advancing hunters. “RUN!” He bellowed, his voice causing his sons’ fur to bristle.They ran.
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