Do you guys take Highmountain who wish to travel as well? I’ve been looking for a good excuse to finally make a moose and this seems like a really cool idea.
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Yes! All tauren variants are welcomed in the guild; so, if you want to Highmountain it up, we’d love to have you join us!
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This is a moose friendly tribe. Matter of fact, its Yaungol, and Taunka friendly also!
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mooing intensifies
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Look forward to it. Get in contact with me whenever you feel your guild is ready, and we’ll brainstorm something.
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The Many Paths
Arriving at the Crossroads should have been a welcome relief from the road, but as the Ecche’washte had noticed the spirits that seemed to haunt the place, Ystas, too, had felt them. At first they’d been merely a constant buzz that hummed in the background of the outpost, but after that first night at the inn, Ystas found it hard to separate the living from the dead.
Sleeping was no respite; for, the spirits sought to show her the world as they had known it. She lived several lives in her sleep, and even some of her own ancestors sought to show her the world as it had been. All of this made it harder to focus on the world that could be and made the present a near impossibility.
She’d kept to herself as best she was able, unable to explain to others the realms in which her thoughts, if not her body, dwelt. It had been the first time since the day of the Cataclysm that the spirits sought her out to offer her Their vision.
These weren’t warnings, however—at least not as far as she could tell. Instead, they seemed to be trying to offer her lessons—showing her different viewpoints so that she could better understand the world as it now existed. And it wasn’t without merit, being able to experience events that had happened in the past—to feel as her people and others had felt. She learned of pride and honor as she walked the paths of orcs; of her own people, she saw the frustration and sadness that warred with their own sense of pride and hope for the future. Blood elves and trolls and goblins…so many others—each had their story to tell. Each soul held a complex web that began to form a Pattern as she dwelt among them and learned of the paths they had walked.
She knew, eventually, the Kodohorn would be moving on, but for now, she let the concerns of the world pass her by. When, and if, they had need of her, she would be called. For now, though, she settled within the shade of the trees on a nearby hill each morning and only returned when An’she’s light was fully gone from the sky. She attended then to the needs of her body before finding a place at the inn to rest where dreams were another day that ended only when the spirits freed her.
In the few coherent moments she had at dusk and dawn, she pondered if this was what some might consider insanity—a realm in which the Self nearly ceased to exist, subsumed by the Other. And she prayed that the days when they would once more take to the road would be soon.
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Love my moos.
In a couple weeks, we’ll be wrapping up our adventure in Northern Barrens and moving to a new location for August. I’ve got an idea for an open RP event that requires some level 30 alts, so if anyone’s interested in that, get that alt ready for August!
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It seemed strange, but somehow Ystas sensed that the spirits that once gathered around the Crossroads were somehow fewer after she’d awoken from her sleep. Perhaps they had found respite from their pain, and the stories told by the other Kodohorn about what had transpired up on the hill several nights past seemed to indicate that the awaihilo, her fellow mystic Qonnoh, and a newcomer to their band, the scout, Orro–a vulpera, had taken it upon themselves to see this done.
She would have liked to say that her mental abilities had grown stronger in turn–that the reason the voices were fewer was because she had gained some greater mastery of her own mental will, but she sensed the power of An’she shielding her from that near-constant barrage of voices that had inundated her upon their arrival to the Barrens stopover.
With the constraints of her last vision dispensed, however, the ecche’washte shown what she had been given to show him, her life returned to the same day-to-day tasks that helped the Kodohorn prepare to move onward in their journey. For the most part, however, for now–until they’d managed to quell the disturbance at the orc farm–she spent a lot of her time working on sewing bandages, or patching gear, fetching water for the kodos, or helping with the cooking and washing that stemmed from feeding a tribe full of people on the road.
She stayed away from doing anything too strenuous, though, as her strength, while mostly recovered, wasn’t something she felt she could fully rely upon. She also shied away from the fires at night; she was truly weary of visions–though she knew they’d find her again whether she willed it or not. And she strengthened her days with prayers–seeking to keep her own mind busy so that she wouldn’t fall prey to the voices again.
Today, however, weary of rest and weary of being ware, she sought refuge with the kodo and her beloved K’norn. He had been a parting gift to her from the Seers, and before the tribe left from Orgrimmar, they’d helped to ensure he made the journey there with her.
“Can’t be a seer of the Kodohorn without K’norn, can you?” teased Seer Kaya as they walked to the great totem from whence she’d take a wind rider to Orgrimmar.
She and K’norn had bonded rather quickly; his playful nature was tempered by her calm, and his restless spirit called to that of her own. She loved him for his carefree passion–his unconcerned innocence. What he brushed off with his fellow kodo, Ystas had a harder time doing with her fellow shu’halo and the other races that populated Azeroth.
She’d have preferred to stay with the Sunwalkers and their tent in Thunder Bluff, but Tahu had told her that seers were needed out in the world–not sitting around in tents atop a mesa. And K’norn had helped her to embrace that need. He reminded her of the wild passions that had ruled her before she’d started her studies, but it wasn’t colored with the pain and rage that had consumed her back then.
As she leaned against his side in the warm afternoon, she smiled a little as he turned his head to nudge at her shoulder as if to say, “Let’s go do something fun.” She rubbed a hand gently against his snout. “It’s too hot.”
He huffed, shifting his hind quarters back and forth somewhat playfully, causing the smile to broaden a bit more.
“Fiiiiiine,” she mock-groaned, shifting away from him to go and gather the riding harness and saddle that she had also been gifted with upon her graduation to full-fledged Seer. “But we’re only going to ride around the outpost.”
So saying, and once saddled, Ysa and K’norn began their journey around the outer perimeter of the Crossroads.
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~The War Painting Ceremony~
The weekend’s event looks to be shaping up! If you’re looking to join us, make sure to contact Moloak in-game or join our Discord.
Also, if you’re not a tauren, but want to become an honorary tribe member, it seems like we’re taking in more than just moos. So if you’re hungry for adventure, want to be a part of the creation of beautiful stories, or are just interested in being a nomad for a while, come see what the Kodohorn Tribe has to offer.
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The Archon Reversed
Had he not stood his ground—taken hit after hit for Ystas, she might not have the chance to consider these things as she now did. And yet, she still found it difficult to approach him—to offer words to the one who had saved her on the battlefield. He and the awaihilo had spoken after the battle—Molo’ak seeking out the brave as he kept counsel on a hill near the Crossroads; she had seen them, but she wasn’t certain if the awaihilo’s words could help the feelings that seemed to weigh heavily on Noru’s heart.
In the heat of battle the old feelings of rage and power and death had sung in her soul. The creatures before her were not living, sentient beings; they were impediments to be overcome in the battle against the Kor’Kron smith whose desire for dominance had led them there. It was the same as when she’d gone raiding against the Grimtotem after the events of the Cataclysm. It was the same blind fanaticism that had led to her near-expulsion from Mulgore and her fellow shu’halo.
And when she had let it go—taken a moment to look around her at her fellow tribespeople, she and those around her had nearly fallen to the smith and those who did her bidding. Noru would never understand that it was the heat of battle—the memory of what she’d nearly done long-since past, that had made her weak and given rise to his own injuries as he sought to keep them alive. She had remembered the awful truth as she felt the tide of battle turning, her attempts to heal those around her a pitiful hope that she wouldn’t become the Dark Thing of her past.
And like the others who had ridden into battle that day, she, too, had seen Molo’ak behead the smith. It was the joy he took in it, however, that had given rise to yet more chills within her. She knew that feeling; she understood the thrill of the hunt—the joy of the kill. And she knew what it could become. And in the moment of the smith’s death, her own soul had reveled in those feelings, too.
And so, …she had avoided them, claiming she needed rest after the battle. It troubled her even more that the runes had not been wrong—once again. Although they had achieved their victory, it had come with its own cost. None of them had left the battle unscathed—weaknesses exposed and false hopes given form.
But the endeavor at the farm would be abandoned by the quillboar and the Kor’Kron.
She had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last the Kodohorn saw of them though.
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“So…while I’m stuck here in Orgrimmar, for reasons and things, (it has nothing to do with the fact that I like smoking, drinking, and fishing…)–seems the Kodohorn are moving on to Dustwallow Marsh. I haven’t heard why they’re headin’ that way, but if you get a chance to head there and find out, feel free to drop back by and let me know.”
~~ heard by anyone who happens to stop and chat with Kefkar for any length of time; perhaps he’s trying to get you to leave him alone?
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Ystas watched as the tribe made its way from the Crossroads, heading south toward Dustwallow Marsh. She had opted to stay behind to tend to the duties of setting the orc spirits to rest and also to spend some time honing her abilities and her mind. The events of the Crossroads had shown her that she still had so much to learn, and she was grateful that the tribe was willing to give her that time.
She’d help to restore the farm, as well, though much of that would depend on their Horde allies who had helped them to defeat the Kor’Kron smith and her quillboar army. But as she watched the departing caravan of kodos and people, she wondered when she’d see them again. She knew, though, that this path was not hers to walk with them—for now.
Time would tell, of course, and though she would be absent from the tribe for some time, she would carry them in her heart. Their paths would cross again soon enough, after all.
A Seer’s truths were seldom wrong.
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I’m doing some light research here and there on things like animal care and reptiles to get event ideas for taking care of and raising kodos. We’ll have some events dealing with tending to injuries, things like that; make sure our kodos are happy.
ALSO, Thunder Bluff Storytelling is back up for August:
[H-RP] Thunder Bluff Storytelling (Open Event, August 26th) - Moon Guard - World of Warcraft Forums (blizzard.com)
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mooing intensifies yet again
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I’ve replaced the Current Events section, which was previously about in-guild RP information, to a new list of Upcoming Public Events that I’ll be hosting, starting with the Thunder Bluff Storytelling this month. This information is more relevant to the wider audience and most likely a better recruitment tool.
I’m currently working on two more RP ideas/events: a series of rites of passage for young shamans, and a power-lifting competition.
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There and Back Again
Part 1
The road home had been a long one, and though she was ready to return to the Kodohorn tribe, much had changed—both for herself and her people. While the scars she bore were internal, some of those worn by the tribe were more pronounced. And while her soul longed to rejoin the line of kodo snaking down the road toward Thunder Bluff, she remained instead within the tree line, watching as they left her behind.
-----
Their victory in the Barrens had given rise to the reclamation of a farm and a halt to further Kor’kron and quillboar activity in the area. But the fact that there were still Kor’kron at all had troubled Ystas more than she’d spoken.
Purists. Believers in the orc master race. Their presence had held the darkness of flaws given free reign to conquer sense. It spoke of a people who had forgotten their stories and their histories and sought conquest instead of understanding. That which did not align with the purpose of the “True Horde” was the enemy. And the enemy was their fear which manifested shadows in anyone that didn’t profess the “faith.”
Fear was an easy path to exploit.
Still, the farm had belonged to orc farmers before its conquest, and now it belonged to orc farmers once more. By working together with their fellow Horde members, the Kodohorn had driven fear back and given rise to new life and new hope.
Ystas had stayed behind with the Lakota’mani to ensure that the dead were given proper burial and to ensure that the farm was once more consecrated in the pursuit of growth and life. During the ritual of cleansing, they had bathed the area in prayer to both An’she and Mu’sha, the song of their voices and the stamp of their hooves washing away the suffering of the past. It was not an easy task, but at the end of the third night, and with the dawn of the fourth day, it was done. New stones were laid to mark the farm’s borders, and as Kwahu faded from the mortal realm, Ystas was left to lay the final blessings upon the stones.
Then the rebuilding began.
She had stayed a few days after—to recover and rest, but also to watch as the orcs of the Crossroads came together to create a new dream for the farm from those which had fallen when the previous owners had passed. It felt good to be a part of something new, but it also reminded her of her own lack of strong foundations.
She had intended to return to the tribe once her duty had been fulfilled, but as she had sensed when the kodo left the Crossroads, her own path lay apart from theirs still. The farm’s restoration had not been enough.
She needed to prove to herself that she had the strength necessary to lead her people with her visions rather than falling prey to them. She needed to be able to stand on her own two hooves—to battle back from the darkness of possibility rather than being consumed by it. And to that end she would follow the Kodohorn into Dustwallow.
It remained to be seen if she would leave with them.
~~~~~<@ @>~~~~~
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Part 2
On foot her journey took her several days but walking also gave her time to study the land around her—to focus on the smells, sights, and sounds as she transitioned from the torn lands of the Barrens into the marshes and swamps of Dustwallow. Each day the air seemed to get more humid and the hum of insects increased. The scent of dirt gave way to the heady warmth of dense vegetation, and where the wind had once ruffled her fur, the warm air at her feet sweeping upward as cooler air sought to take its place—soon there was only the stifling cling of sweat-matted hair. She had to take more breaks once the lush foliage of the marsh occluded her view of the plains she’d left behind, but foraging was easier. In both cases, finding ample, potable water was its own struggle, but she managed well enough through the aid of An’she’s blessings.
She never strayed too far from the roads, though from time to time she found herself needing to move off of them as bandits or other unknowns passed her by. Sleep was hard to come by at night, and resting during the day was just as difficult; for, every manner of creature and insect seemed to thrive in the oppressive heat. After a while Ystas gave up trying to find safe places to sleep, exhaustion winning out as she often woke with a snake or spider or other creature near her—or worse, on her. Each day began with the hint of dawn, and each evening she found a spot on which to settle as the heat faded from the air, often long after the sun had set. Rain served as a momentary reprieve from the heat, its return coming with a vengeance as the clouds flirted with their own dissipation, but at least the foliage kept her dry—more or less.
Her journey became a testament to survival, though she wouldn’t have wanted to vouch for her mental clarity. She’d lost the road entirely after the third day, choosing to follow her instincts and intuition which seemed to be guiding her toward the coast. After several days–(the concept of time became rather nebulous, replaced by blessed moments of sleep followed by a seemingly endless burden of heavy heat), the scent of ocean air and the hint of a breeze broke through the monotony of the marsh. That night she camped near the beach, careful to hide her presence from the local murlocs.
That night her dreams were given over to a vision of an island beyond sight of the coast. It wasn’t really an oddity, the waters beyond the marsh dotted with several such isles that came and went with the tides. This island, however, seemed to shift in and out of the mists, its own beaches giving way to old, jungle growth. There was also a sense of darkness that lurked beyond the sandy coast—something more than just the shadows cast by the island foliage. This was where she must go to face the tenebrous landscape of her Seer’s gifts; this would be her proving ground.
And if she couldn’t find her way out again, the island would become her grave.
With An’she’s herald lighting the skies, Ystas rose and spoke the words that would carry her over the waves, her hooves levitating over sand and then water. Again, time became difficult to name as a heavy fog rolled in around her; still, she continued onward, the island of her dreams calling to her, guiding her even though she could not see. After some time (hours? days?) the fog parted, and before her lay the island of possibilities.
As she drew near the foam-soaked sand, An’she’s power, that which held her aloft, was lost. She could sense the sun’s warmth just beyond her reach, as though this place refused to acknowledge any power other than its own. Mu’sha, too, seemed banned from these shores, though the feel of its shadows were akin to her energy in some way. The loss of those presences, however, sent a shiver through her thoughts, and a chill settled in beneath the fur of her arms.
Was this a dream? Did her form still remain on the sandy beach of the night before? As her hooves left indentations on the damp remains of the past, Ystas understood that this was no dream. This place, wherever it might be, still dwelt within the realm of possibilities, its connection to Azeroth a tether that bound both she and it to her people, the kodo, and the land that birthed them. Wind stirred the hair of her mane, pushing her forward beyond the water’s break. Untamed and wild, the wind gusted and sent her fur and hair into a billowing, untidy mess. It was a thunderous welcome in her ears that only the green beyond would quell, and so to still the raucous gale, she made her way to the jungle’s edge.
~~~~~<@ @>~~~~~
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Part 3
As she passed from the beach into the verdure, the sound in her ears instantly grew quiet. That transition from wind to silence was eerie, and the silence seemed almost as oppressive as the pressure of the wind before it. Too, the temperature in the area dropped considerably, as if barring the power of the Earth Mother’s eyes also kept their warmth and light at bay. For, the jungle was dense, and the undergrowth made for slow going as she moved beyond its initial boundaries
Looking back, the beach which she should have still been able to see was gone, replaced by green vines and leaves, ferns and moss and thorny thickets that couldn’t have possibly been there a moment before. It was as if the island was swallowing her, and the realization of that thought kept her hooves bound to the spot—neither able to continue forward to head back the way she’d come.
It is like my own inability to move forward with a power that I cannot escape, she thought to herself. The island is my power, and either I master it, or I will be lost here forever.
The awaihilo had been right; fear had been holding her back, and though she’d denied it at the time, looking back into the dense foliage once more, she felt ashamed that he had needed to point it out to her, her ears drooping and her shoulders slumping. She couldn’t stand still forever, though, and so she forced herself to press onward into the jungle.
Sometimes fear can be healthy, though. Tahu Sagewind’s words returned to her now as she pushed forward into the dense growth. It can guide us so that we avoid troubles along the road or warn us when we need to prepare for what lies ahead.
But what about when you can’t see the road ahead? she asked her absent teacher. What do you do when you’re afraid of being wrong? What do you when you’re afraid of the very power that is meant to guide not only you, but others, forward?
The burden of continued silence weighed upon her as no answer was forthcoming. And so she trudged onward through the silence, uncertain of how long she’d been traveling. Color faded as the trees created a faux night overhead, their thick branches twining and twisting into a dark canopy that shut out the sky. And though she thought what light was left should have been tinged a healthy, verdant green, the air around her had instead become a nightmarish red.
A hiss of leaves to her left caused her to look in that direction. A shadow was swiftly sprinting away from her. Without thinking, she begin to race after the only other presence she’d found within the island jungle. “Stop, please! Wait!” she called out as she heedlessly crashed through vines and thickets, her fur preventing most of the thorns, though sticky burrs remained within it. The figure did not stop, however, and as she charged heedlessly forward after it, other sounds began to catch her attention.
Ahead the sounds of many people’s distress reached her spurring her to quicken her pace, but the jungle had its own ideas, impeding her at every turn so that worry and anxiety tore away at her thoughts, making it harder for her to find a way to those in need. Still, she wasn’t going to let the forest stop her from helping them—their cries of fear and nearing screams giving rise to her own panic for what lay just beyond her sight.
They were running from something—a force that could not be fought or reasoned with. Her thoughts returned to the breaking world during the Cataclysm; there had been nothing anyone could do. As the world crumbled beneath their feet, moving back or moving forward made little difference; for, there was no sense in the destruction that followed. While some were swallowed by the earth or sea, others were left to breathe sighs of relief, their lives spared by random chance.
Shadows ran past her now in the jungle, and as she sought to confront one of them, to make sense of their flight, she stepped forward into a clearing. Overhead the canopy of bark parted to reveal the night sky. And above her a swarm of dragons converged.
The sight of it took her breath away; it was … a sight that would remain etched in her mind for eternity, their majestic wings outspread as they circled overhead.
A roar and a crash from her left gave her just enough time to turn and see the dragon that crashed through the trees. Its maw opened to reveal a fiery warmth in its throat before flames consumed the jungle around her, blinding her vision.
The contours and lines of that dragon burned themselves into her thoughts. She’d seen them before, but writ much larger on a mature dragon’s frame. Neltharion, the Worldbreaker—Deathwing. But this wasn’t him. As the flames died, darkness descended more deeply around her, the vegetation of the forest scarred but not burning, and when her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness once more, she found herself alone in a charred, smoking ruin of the forest clearing, the flight of her people now silenced.
This abrupt change in scenery didn’t make sense. The hiss and crackle of cooling wood and dying embers were all that remained of the chaos from moments before. Glancing upward beyond the ruined, jagged edges of dead, burned trees, she saw the sky was full of night, but a night without stars or moons.
It was too vast and empty, that space. She felt herself being drawn into that darkness, as though it would subsume her. No light. No thought. Just endless, eternal night.
“No!” she cried out angrily, stamping a hoof into the charred and blackened ground and tearing her eyes away. “I will not become a doomsayer. I will not let the shadows of what might be consume the possibility for hope.”
She realized that her breath was coming in heavy pants, her body bent with the weight of her fears, her ears twitching as she turned her gaze about the ruined clearing once more. The Cataclysm had shattered so many lives, her own included. But she’d found a path forward like the many others who had survived. It might not have been perfect, full of rainbows and sunshine, but the ruin of who she’d been was not the woman she was now.
“I clawed my way from the darkness, each day a testament to the hope that lay dormant inside of me. I will not go back to that emptiness; I will not pretend that life has no meaning again.”
Straightening up to her full height, she forced her breath to become even once more, taking strength from her own conviction. Her eyes returned then to the empty sky above.
“You are my past.” She acknowledged again the woman whom she had been, this rite of passage similar to what she’d endured during her Seer’s trial. Back then, she’d had to make peace with her past, to see that it was part of her path toward becoming who she had been in that moment. This was different, though.
Here, amid a charred jungle, pieces dying still as the embers of the dragon’s flames faded, she needed to accept that part of her that doubted the possibility of greater powers and the vestiges of hope.
“You are my past,” she said again, accepting this moment, understanding that it was a part of her. “But you are not my future.”
With those words, she looked toward the jungle once more, moving forward and stumbling through the ruined undergrowth as new life closed in all around her. Exhausted, she eventually stumbled to a stop beneath the arms of a great ash tree, its trunk sheltering her as she collapsed onto the mossy ground below.
~~~~~<@ @>~~~~~
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“What? You want me to prove myself in the eyes of the lakota’mani?” Kefkar sighed and harrumphed as he stared off into the water where he’d been fishing.
After a moment, he looked around with a grin. “Nah. I’m good. Now if you want me to prove myself as a fisherman with this here fishing pole…I’m ready, willing, and able.”
So saying, he cast his line into the water and turned his attention to the “great hunt” once more.
“Next time ya see old glitternose, though, tell him the supplies he asked for are on their way.”
– a scene played out somewhere in Orgrimmar
Part 4
Ystas was beginning to understand that time was another concept alien to the island. She may have slept only a few hours or for several weeks. It would be impossible to know where the times and tides of the Earth Mother had taken her until she could leave this place behind. But what she couldn’t understand was how the island could exist apart from the other cosmic forces that guided the rest of the universe. It was something she pondered as she continued her journey through the jungle under a once-again-bright sky.
When she was very young she had felt the soul of her world—the power of the Earth Mother’s embrace, all around her. But as she’d grown older, and especially when the world cracked (first because of Deathwing, and then again because of Sargeras’ sword), her faith began to wane. It wasn’t that she couldn’t feel the power of the stories of her tauren ancestors; those were easy enough to grasp. But stories couldn’t encapsulate the realities and mundanities of everyday living.
Life begat pain, and while the pain mounted, faith dwindled.
In the distance Ystas spotted mountains. Their towering peaks were lost somewhere in the mist that shrouded this place. The sounds of a storm rumbled off their sides, though she couldn’t see it yet. The silence of those first days was now punctuated by the sounds of wildlife all around her—birds, insects, beasts and others that roamed within the jungle. But spotting her new companions proved elusive in spite of their noise. Here and there a butterfly or a bird had graced her path, but by and large, she walked the way alone.
Those rare instances when her solitary path met with another’s, she found herself relaxing, reminded of the days when Tahu had set her to wandering the roads of Mulgore. Often she carried messages for the new Seers that guided the tauren, but other times, he’d tasked her with finding a story.
“A story?” she’d asked him the first time he sent her out. She had no idea what he expected of her, and the idea of wandering to find a story had seemed ridiculous to her.
“All around you, the world is trying to tell you something, little snowflake. And if you’re very lucky or very brave, you might just be able to see it.”
She’d laughed bitterly as she’d turned away from him with a shrug of her shoulders. She hated when he called her snowflake; so, her tone was somewhat dismissive when she retorted, “Maybe if the world stopped telling me that it hates me, I’d be more willing to listen.”
Tahu stopped her with a hand to her shoulder, waiting for her gaze to return to his own before he released her and offered, “You find what you are seeking, Ystas. If you look for hate within the world, you will find it, and if you seek joy, that, too, is easy enough to find.”
He stopped the sneer that was starting to form on her face as he continued, his words seeming to reach somewhere inside of her that she hadn’t wanted them to. “Only when you can see the world through other eyes will you be able to grasp a greater understanding of this life. Only then will you be able to see what the world is trying to tell you.”
It hadn’t made sense at the time, of course, but little by little, her ears began to listen again, and her nose and thoughts began to catalogue their journeys. Her eyes spent time staring into the sky or up at the branches of a tree. She concentrated on the tastes of the foods she ate, and instead of turning away or hiding from others who shared the road with her, she began to listen to their souls—their words and their gestures, their clothing and their scent all a part of the person that the world knew, even if the other people in it didn’t see them that way.
Food and water on the island were plenty, though she was looking forward to being able to eat fish and meat and cheese again when she got home.
Home….
The thought of the Kodohorn brought a smile to her face as she continued toward the mountains. By now they’d likely made camp within Dustwallow and begun to trade. She sorely missed K’norn, though she’d sent him on with the rest of the tribe, knowing that she couldn’t take him with her where she was going. No doubt he was pestering the old bulls or making mischief with the younghorns. He hadn’t yet matured to the point where he’d be seeking a mate, but Ystas knew the day was coming when her young bull was going to be challenging the older males to establish his place among their tribe.
The idea of K’norn as a father left her laughing a little in embarrassment. She wasn’t ready for that, yet. Luckily, neither was he.
The mirth faded as she considered the rest of her tribe, though. There had been lessons she’d learned as a seer-in-training—lessons that kept her from forming close bonds with others. Some of her teachers had said it was a price they paid for their gifts. Others had said that it was necessary in order to maintain balance within the tribe. But now, as she thought about her people, she wished she had taken more time to know them all better.
She often wondered if that forced distance was needed, though she’d seen it time and again among the Seers, what happened when the Sight showed hard truths about those with whom the seer had grown close. Relationships had grown strained, and friendships ended. Few people could truly understand the burdens that came with the visions, and fewer still could understand why some things had to remain unspoken. Among their fellow seers, these things were understood, but even then, sometimes bonds became strained.
She’d resisted the Sight at first, hating that something else sought to intrude upon her solitude. At first it must have been amusing for Tahu and the others as they watched her struggle against herself. But over time, those struggles had become harder and harder to win. She’d relented only after one of her Visions had nearly driven someone to murder another member of their family when she’d accidentally revealed an illicit relationship occurring between the man’s wife and his brother. It had become so hard to tell the visions from reality that she’d thought the man she was speaking with was another one of her visions instead of an actual tauren.
After seeing the aftermath of her words made manifest, she’d showed up the next day at the Sunwalker’s tent ready to begin her training.
“Why didn’t you make me come here sooner?” she later asked of Tahu.
“Would you have been willing?” he replied.
Pausing to rest a moment and look to see how much further it was to the edge of the rocky incline beyond, she wondered what story the world was waiting for her to see—wondering how much longer it would be before she was able to see it.
A wry smile caught at her lips at the flash of impatience that marked her thoughts. “Always trying to run away or wanting everything to appear right this instant,” she murmured, a huff of air passing through her snout to mark her laugh. Seer Kaya had often used that phrase during Ystas’ training when she’d done something to exasperate her teacher.
Eyeing the jungle around her she offered to it silently, I know. I know. I’ll see it when I’m ready to see it. And not a moment before.
For good measure she added, But would it kill you to make the mountains a little closer?
~~~~~<@ @>~~~~~