((OOC: Ficlet200: 181 - 190))
((This is my second to last batch. Can you believe it?
You know the drill. Ficlets are posted once every, um, two weeks or so (hey, it's hard!), to storiesbysam.
Samhuinn dies twice in this batch. There's a special place for me in character hell, where you're subject to everything you put your characters through.
181: Words
His head on his palms, his back in the grass, his mate's head lounging upon his chest, Samhuinn Runetotem looked up. A canopy of green leaves encompassed the forest of Feralas, though streaks of pale golden sun struck through the cracks, bathing the land in dim light. The crashing of a water upon the rocks drowned out the buzzing and chirping of the insects and bees. The two tauren had remained undisturbed, lying around in the shade on a warm sunny day.
A low hum in Samhuinn's throat broke the monotony of the waterfall. "Did you know," Samhuinn inquired softly. "... That they say o-our means of, o-of communication are... h-how to put it... That we communicate almost t-ten times more through the language o-of our bodies than through our words? Our eyes a-and hands a-and such are more important than our spoken content."
"Mrrrrr," purred the larger bull, stirring slightly. "Our actions, you say?" he mumbled sleepily. As Samhuinn lifted his head to nod his affirmation, Ambershanks grinned. He grabbed the hem of his mate's shirt and hoisted it up, exposing the younger bull's reddish-furred tummy. Before Samhuinn could react, he rolled over and put his mouth to Samhuinn's belly-button and blew into it, causing the loud, vibrating rumble of pressed air. As Samhuinn wriggled and started to protest, Ambershanks lifted his head and said, as calmly and seriously as possible, "Then what does this tell you, love?" He raspberried his stomach once again.
"S-stop!" Samhuinn cried through helpless laughter. He eventually pulled his mate's head off of his belly and brought it back up to his chest, keeping it pinned there. "E-earthmother, it tells me y-you cannot take anything seriously! This is i-important!" Wiping away the hint of a tear, he sank back into the grass. Ambershanks peered up at his face until he spoke again.
"... I-it really is important," Samhuinn repeated, his voice lowering. "I fear so much, f-for my words, that they do not offend o-or hurt, I... do not... stop to think, perhaps, w-what I am saying without words. M-maybe I should not frown so much... O-or maybe, when I look away, I, um..."
"Or when you blush," Ambershanks offered, glancing expectantly at his mate. He laughed in triumph at the hints of red under Samhuinn's cheekfur as he began to mount a protest. Flopping more of his body on the darker bull, Ambershanks, his chin smeared into Samhuinn's upper chest, added, "I don't know, though. We seem to communicate all right via the speaking stone, don't we? I think I usually know fairly well what you are saying and sometimes even how you are acting, even if I do not see you."
"... I... well, um..."
"And you read, all the time. Those words don't have body language, do they? I don't know if it's as extreme as you think."
"A... a-are you sure?"
"Tell you what," Ambershanks said, biting down on his lower lip. He rose his hands to cushion his chin upon Samhuinn's body. "You said... ten times as much? Next time we speak on the stone, I will say 'I love you' ten times, just to make sure you know it. Fair enough?"
Samhuinn had to laugh. "G-gods, love, you don't need to do that."
"Well, do you want me to?"
The younger bull smiled. "I do." But he knew that the smile and the faintest tinge of red on his cheeks would have said it for him.
182: Sacrifice
Though they did not fall upon his skin, Ambershanks felt the brunt of every strike. The rope scraped with a furious, maddening, burning pain along his bare upper arms and across his chest. Each punch set him rocking, each hit set him digging in against his bindings, each second knowing with adrenaline's folly that just a little more effort and the rope would break free, just a little more and his shackles of twine would snap and he would propel himself forward and crush the Grimtotem's head into pulp. It would take him one thunderous slam, not the jabs and knocks that the larger bull was inflicting upon his bound, helpless mate. One hit, Ambershanks prayed, as the sweat fell into his eyes and merged with blood down below his shoulder, one hit would be all he would need. Break free. One hit, and this nightmare would be over.
His prayer went unanswered. With a roar of frustration, Ambershanks sank back against his post. He tilted his head up to stare at the ceiling, but found that taking his eyes off of Samhuinn for even a second was a pain he could not bear. His mate was swollen, bleeding profusely from his mouth and a new cut opened near his ear. He met each punch that connected with his face with a low gasp and a whimper, but never more. If only the orcs that tease him all the time could see him now, Ambershanks thought bitterly. A lesser bull would have been weeping for mercy an hour ago.
"Killer," the Grimtotem spoke, addressing Ambershanks. He snapped his massive, blood-touched fingers. One of the four warriors in the tent tossed him a cloth laden with dirt. He wiped his knuckles clean of Samhuinn's blood as he spoke. "You have brought your torture upon yourself. You have no other to blame. All you need do is tell me what I wish to know."
"You're deaf or stupid, numb hoof, I don't know a damn thing." Ambershanks spoke defiantly, through teeth grit, but it was true. The Grimtotem desired knowledge, knowledge of the Arch Druid Hamuul Runetotem's plans for the Grimtotem tribes of Feralas, plans for expansion of the nearby Camp Mojache, any sorts of plans that would interfere with the cryptic Grimtotem agenda. If they figured his own blood would divulge in his nephew his secrets, they clearly did not know the old bull too well. A dozen or a hundred or a thousand times, Ambershanks had told the enormous black-furred beast of a bull that he knew nothing, that he swore it upon his life and the life of his poor mate. But every denial lead to one more blow upon Samhuinn's being, and Ambershanks was reaching the very limit of his mental and emotional capacities.
"Don't... don't... d-dont t-tell him anything," Samhuinn had stammered through his teeth, some time ago, when they were mostly intact.
"You idiot!" Ambershanks had bellowed at him. His voice teetered on hysterical as the dark tauren rammed his fist into the smaller bull again, and again, and again. "Don't say that, you little fool, don't say that, you will make him thing I know something, but I don't know anything! I have nothing to tell! Gods damn you, I don't know anything! I don't know anything!"
Ambershanks found himself repeating those words again before he could catch himself. Each sentence earned Samhuinn another blow until Ambershanks's voice trailed off into a desperate moan. He hanged his head low and whimpering to his lover "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry", until the Grimtotem took each apology out as a hit. Then Ambershanks squeezed his eyes shut and fell into silence.
"It's a shame," the Grimtotem growled. "I had more important things to do today." He turned from Ambershanks. He grabbed Samhuinn by the neck with one paw and rammed his knuckles into the druid's stomach with the other. As Samhuinn lurched forward, the Grimtotem yanked his fist up and uppercut him in the chin, sending the smaller bull's head snapping back into the post behind him with a loud crack.
He can't be dead. Ambershanks felt his insides turn to water. The Grimtotem held Samhuinn's head up by the mane. There was no life in the druid's swollen, blood-drenched features. His nostril had been split; his splintered nosering now jammed in just below his eye. Is he dead? Ambershanks felt light-headed, as though he were falling down slowly backwards. He can't be dead. The statement pervaded all thoughts. He can't be dead. Is he dead? He can't be dead. Oh gods, even if he survives, he might not wake up, his face is so twisted, gods, gods, there is so much blood, gods, I don't care as long as he lives, he can't be dead, he can't be dead, not before me, not before me. He can't be dead.
"The deal has been changed," the Grimtotem snorted. His ashen fingers dropped Samhuinn's head, letting it fall forward. His chin hit the ropes, quickly coating them in a thick stream of red. "You could have traded information for his life. Now you have the option of trading information for his body. Tell me what you know."
Ambershanks tried to speak. To say something, anything. To plead for his life, to spit at his hooves, to insult the Grimtotem's mother and his mother's mother and all his ancestor's mothers, to beg, to wail, to bargain, to threaten, anything at all, but his throat was so dry. The ropes scraped against his skin as he shook. His tongue seemed to fill up his entire mouth as his lips groped to parse a word that never formed. The Grimtotem watched, dissatisfied.
"A pity."
He grappled Samhuinn by the throat and slammed his head back against the post. His fingers tightened until the knuckles turned white, clamping his neck against the wood. Then he stopped, because Samhuinn had choked a final gurgle of defiance, and an instant later, Ambershanks was babbling. He said everything he had ever known about Feralas. He told of his uncle's plans to secure a nonviolence treaty with Feathermoon Stronghold, which was true. He spoke of a plan to quell the gnoll tribes without extinguishing them by eliminating the alpha males, which was false. He spoke of every rumor, fact, implication, and remotely relevant tibid of information pertaining to Feralas or the Grimtotems that he could in any way associate with Hamuul Runetotem. As the tears stung his eyes and drool fell from his mouth as he stammered and prattled on, he prayed from the depths of the spirit he could muster to let his mate go free, to let him live, to be spared. Take my life, he thought, take my life, take my uncle, take all of this damned forest, but don't take him from me, not him too, not him too...
What felt like hours later, Ambershanks's mind was blank, save for the dull throbbing of pain in his skull. The Grimtotem appraised him with cold gray eyes. Finally, he looked up at one of the warriors by the door, grunting to get the other bull's attention.
"You get all that?" he demanded.
"Enough," the soldier replied.
"Good." The Grimtotem nodded, gesturing nonchalantly to Samhuinn. "This one didn't do anything. Take him out and hang him. Quickly," he added as an afterthought. "Before he wakes up."
Two of the Grimtotem fighters stepped forward and began to undo the smaller druid's bindings. Ambershanks watched, feeling for the first time in many years, the gut-wrenching mind-searing horror of complete and utter helpless fear. "No," he heard himself croak, "No... no... no... no... no... no..."
"And the killer?" a warrior asked.
"Bleed him." The largest Grimtotem looked down at himself and grinned. It was an expression a hundred times more sickening than his scowl. "Drain his blood bit by bit from as many different cuts as you can. Give him water so he doesn't die too soon." The bull leaned forward and grabbed Ambershanks's nosering, tugging the tauren's head up. The druid made one last feeble struggle, before finally feeling his body give up. He stared up at the Grimtotem, blank.
"You may have forgotten Thalkarsh, but I have not."
Before Ambershanks could protest, he felt a hand clasp over his mouth, strong fingers digging deep into his cheeks. Then he felt the first of many cuts run along his shoulder down around his arm and into his palm.
183: Cure
"Gods damn you, Samhuinn!"
Ambershanks Runetotem snatched a pillow off from his haybed, the place of his rest for the last half-moon, and threw it down to the dirt. Samhuinn Greytail sat across the tent, his arms folded across his chest. He regarded the action with sullen half-interest before turning his gaze back to the floor.
"Are you even listening to me? Gods, you... you just as well could had lied to me."
"I did not li-"
"You did not tell the truth!" Ambershanks stamped twice toward his mate, but Samhuinn's disinterested visage caused him to stop, throwing his hands up. His illness-thinned face was locked in fury. "Amanda is dead, Samhuinn, she is dead. Why did you not tell me? I could have stopped them! She did not have to die, damn you, Samhuinn!"
"You... d-do not even understand," Samhuinn muttered. His shoulders raised, but not in his typical bashful demeanor. He was cold, refusing to raise his voice, refusing to stand, refusing to meet Ambershanks's eyes. "You... d-do not know what happened this week. Y-you said yourself you do not r-"
"By the gods!" Ambershanks grabbed the second pillow up from the bed. He punched it between his fists with a loud growl before tossing it back. "That is not the point! I know enough, Samhuinn, I know that Amanda is dead, and if you had told Nakota, or Amanda herself, or gods! If you could just grow up and just talk to Apada-"
"I want n-nothing to do with him," Samhuinn grumbled. He nodded his head forward, a fall of black hair tumbling over his eyes. He scooted around on the stool, turning his back on his mate. "Nothing, y-you understand?"
Ambershanks raised his hands up to clutch the hair on his head. "Samhuinn, you fool, you thrice-damned fool, you just don't understand. This is not about you!" He stepped forward toward Samhuinn Greytail once more, this time not turning back. "This isn't about you and Apada, this is about Amanda. This is about Pandamona, and Hsarus, and Pheros, and me. This is about you lying to me, s-"
"Gods, A-ambershanks, you think I do not know?" Samhuinn shot up to his hooves. He whirled around and faced Ambershanks with a dangerous, panic-stricken look lighting his features. "I, I, I am not so... daft as you make me out to be! You think I simply... s-sat aside? L-laughed as she died? You were dying before m-my eyes, Sainn was clawing to escape, and those dreams, gods, these wicked dreams t-that afford me no peace!" Samhuinn was trembling by now, eyes wavering with water, but he was not crying. "I hate them, Ambershanks, I, I, I-I do not want to, b-but I hate them. I-I hate what they did to you, w-what they did to us, w-what they are, are, a-are... a-are t-trying to do to me..."
Ambershanks crossed his arms over his chest, watching with eyes narrow. He had lost a great deal of hair from his sickness, and he was sickly thin. But his anger had not diffused. After Samhuinn sputtered his final words, Ambershanks stepped up to him, getting up into his face.
"Greytail, when I am under... like that, when I am... not able to see, to say, to... perceive, you must be my senses. You must speak for me, and you must see and hear that you may relay to me. I was death-bound - would be dead by now, had Stormsurge, Earthmother bless that shield-brother of mine, not come with that cure." Ambershanks raised his hands and set them heavily down upon Samhuinn's shoulders. "I know you were suffering, I know it was hard, and I know I do not know for certain what this last week has shown you. But I know most of all that the mate I love would not be so cold toward Amanda's death if he could have prevented it so easily."
Samhuinn's ears had flattened against his scalp. He opened his mouth to speak twice, but could find nothing to say. Ambershanks's gaze remained on his eyes, insistent. There was a long minute of silence between them.
"You just... d-don't understand, Ambershanks," Samhuinn finally replied. He closed his eyes and shook his head.
Ambershanks stared at him for a long moment. Then, with a loud grunt of disapproval, he pulled his arms back from Samhuinn. He spun around in the dirt, grabbed up his traveling pack, and turned for the tent.
"So be it. Since you won't do a thing, I'll have to make sure Nakota and Apada don't suffer the same fate myself. When you figure things out, I'll be in the Undercity."
By the time Samhuinn built up the courage to reply, Ambershanks was already long gone, running down the circular path around the Elder Rise. He suddenly felt very tired. He sank back down onto his stool, put his head down into his hands, and sighed.
184: Cutting Corners
It would be the easiest thing in the world, Samhuinn Runetotem told himself, peering down at the sapling. A minute's time worth of spells, even a thorough blessing by the Earthmother, and I can go home. It has been a long day. I was up before dawn. There was that meeting with Hamuul, that second one with Bashana, then the flight to Azshara in the middle of the region. How long did I spend there? I skipped lunch and scarcely remembered to take supper. Was that after Felwood or before? That's right, I spent last night there. It's been days, since...
The tauren sighed, peering down at his dirt-caked palms. It had been three nights since he had seen Ambershanks, and as the sun settled beyond the many distant mountains of the barrens, this promised to be the fourth. He had come out here to the Stagnant Oasis for a single purpose - rain. The summer had been harder than usual on the arid lands, but the plants here were hardy, able to survive and sometimes thrive with the rare water from the skies that fell.
Not this plant, Samhuinn knew. He had planted it himself. The tree was not native to central Kalimdor at all, yet its presence had given new hope to Felwood. It was a lifegiving tree, capable of nourishing the soil for many meters around it, given the proper care and nourishment. It required meticulous effort to raise, and as of yet none had attempted to grow it apart from its natural habitat. The seed that became the sapling that the tauren now looked down upon had come a very long way.
Even for a novice raincaller, to summon the rains in a place like the Un'Goro crater is a fairly simple task. To bring the rain to less humid regions required much more effort, and only the greatest could bring the gift of water to arid lands.
Samhuinn thought he could do it. The barrens had been too dry too long; there was bound to be rain before long, and he felt that with effort he could bring them around prematurely. As the weight of the day and the week and the season's exhaustion crept up on him, as the longing to see his mate grew stronger, as the overwhelming urge toward apathy overtook him, he was no longer so sure the effort was worth it.
A few spells would be almost as good. To stay here for hours praying for rain that may or may not come would cut into his sleeping time, or worse, into his time with his mate. A little nourishing magic and a small prayer to the Earthmother would be plenty for any normal plant. He could afford to take a little time off from this duty; he had more than earned it. Most druids would not even take the time to come see the plant this late at night.
Despite the persuasiveness of his own argument, Samhuinn found himself frozen, still staring at the tree, paralyzed. He was tired, lonely, hungry, and if he stayed for three hours in hopes for rain, would be wet all the ride back to the crossroads too. Everything told him to make this quick.
Everything, but a small, nagging voice in the back of his head, whispering that the mark of a true druid, the mark of true dedication, is never cutting corners no matter the cost, no matter the effort, no matter the time. It matters not if nobody knows the extent of your tasks or a thousand people know; it matters only that the task is done, to the honest best of your abilities.
The moonlight fell upon the oasis.
"... Gods c-curse it all," Samhuinn grumbled through teeth grit. He inhaled through his snout, let it out in a long, drawn-out sigh. Then he went to one knee and rummaged through his pack for the stones of the raincalling ritual.
185: Forgiven
"... And may you bless... t-those I love, those who act in accordance w-with your cause, and those who shall... one day b-become my ally. May I yet be... f-forgiven for my transgressions. In your name... m-my Earthmother."
Samhuinn Blackhorn blew out the candle, sending the tent into darkness. A brief yet pleasant smell of smoke rose from the cabinet upon which it sat. He smiled briefly at it through the darkness as he undressed himself. He slipped soundlessly into bed beside his sleeping mate, but just as his head touched the pillow, he felt Ambershanks stir beneath the covers.
"Why do you always say that?"
It was a question spoken plainly, yet Samhuinn was silent for a long moment. He hiked the sheets up just over his bare shoulders, curling up into himself as though for warmth.
"... What... i-is it that I say?"
"You beg forgiveness at every nightly prayer, Samhuinn." Ambershanks rolled over to face him. Samhuinn's eyes had not yet adjusted to the dark, yet he saw the faintest shimmer of the tauren's blue eyes shining, like a cat in the distance. "Just what have you done today that requires you to ask the Earthmother for forgiveness?"
"Um, one... never knows," Samhuinn replied lightly, forcing warmth into his voice. "I m-may have, ah... in... i-in, um, inadvertently crushed a-an insect or flower this day. We... all sin, even if we do not intend it. I... ask for forgiveness for that."
"Samhuinn." Ambershanks was a growl in the darkness. "You know I have no fondness for this guessing game. Even you are not so worrisome as that. You and I, we have seen too much and fought too hard to let our past sins weigh us down. If you are worthy of forgiveness, it will come to you in time. And you are," he added, almost as an afterthought. He reached out to touch Samhuinn's cheek, but missed in the darkness and ended up petting his throat.
Ambershanks's voice sounded louder in the darkness than otherwise. Samhuinn's shoulders rose instinctively. He pulled himself onto his back, trying to ignore his mate's hand. "... It is just..."
"Yes..?"
"... It is that... we have... I mean... T-that is to say, that I, ah... um."
"Come on, come, out with it. The sooner we speak, the sooner you may sleep, and I know you've a busy day on the morrow."
"... It has... been so long. ... A-and I have tried to be good... for my life. I am trying, but I... I... I-I fall. Y-you have seen me fall." Samhuinn swallows audibly, a painfully loud noise in the otherwise soft sounds of whispers in the night. "And I have... prayed forgiveness for so long... and yet I do not feel... forgiven. I..."
"... You?" Ambershanks insisted. His voice had the faintest hint of worry. He had stopped caressing Samhuinn's neck.
"... I wonder if I am... beyond... redemption."
"Mrrrr," Ambershanks sounded in the dark. It was a low growl, bothered. For a long while, this was his only response. Samhuinn stared up at the tent's ceiling, his neck arched uncomfortably. Just as he began to wonder if Ambershanks had drifted off into sleep, he felt the bull's muzzle settled down under his neck, felt the warmth of his body nestling against his under the sheets.
"We have... both done awful things," Ambershanks murmured. "Things they wouldn't suspect of... the Arch Druid's own blood, or... his timid partner. I have..." He sighed. His breath felt hot against Samhuinn's throat. "Not missed a night in which I do not question if what I did to... Ironheart... was inevitable. If I had a choice. If I somehow played a role in Nomoon's death - distracted him, perhaps... or simply failed to protect him. Leviathos, and Natayo... All of them. Will I fly to the Summerlands in the beyond, with these weighing upon my soul? I do not know. But I see no need to stop trying. And," he added, feeling Samhuinn's throat twitch as a sign of preparing to speak, "I also see no need to plead and bargain with the Earthmother nightly. She knows I regret, she knows I have pain. And still she gave me you, just as she gave you me - and with me, the power to strike back against your father, just as you may grant me occasional peace from these nightmares. Do you not see it? We will forge our own redemption, with each other."
There was a growing sense of pride in Ambershanks's voice. His words were followed by a sound closely resembling a purr, to which Samhuinn felt a brief snort of mirth rise from his chest out his nose. He did not know how to respond, and by the time he had found the words, Ambershanks's breathing was light and rhythmic against his chest, and he felt no need to wake the elder bull. He sank back into the haybed, finally relaxing, and let his mouth form the words he was afraid to admit.
Not while Korbuk lives.
186: Fish
Samhuinn Runetotem wriggled his nose at the sign. Free fish to those most deserving, the sign stated plainly enough. Tell a story, sing a song, create a piece of art, do something worthy of being the proud owner of 500 meals worth of fresh fishy feasts, with a sizable pile of gold on the side. The judge was clearly a human by name, yet the contest's details were posted all over Booty Bay, with no clear indicant of bias toward either Alliance or Horde forces. The sea spray was starting to make Samhuinn's eyes hurt, but he knew he could not surmount his growing interest, and that if he left now, he would only come back later to study the rules a little more.
Hamuul would most likely be very happy if I were to give the feasts up to the circle, the tauren pondered. He had been staring at the paper for nearly ten minutes now, and he was starting to draw the attention of a goblin fisherman half-worried, half-annoyed at him hogging up a spot near the pier. He could give them to one of those starving troll tribes in the Hinterlands, perhaps, to coerce them to stop attacking Hammerfall, or maybe offer them to the naga of Zangarmarsh in hopes of quenching their ecodestructive ways. He could donate the money to the local druidic foundation of wherever the fish came from, too, to help them replenish the population and try to offset the imbalance that may have been caused. The rewards were certainly enticing enough; the means by which he would even attempt to win them, however, proved vexing.
So Samhuinn Runetotem puttered around for a few days, writing stories, writing essays, writing poems. He was no great warrior or wise elder or brave fighter, but he had a little writing talent for the predominantly oral language Taur'ahe. Most of this writing, however, fell short of his loftly expectations. Some of his potential submissions sounded too much like begging, some sounded too altruistic to be true, and one toed the line of bribery far too closely. After a few days of furious editing and a hundred and one ideas, Samhuinn decided to try something a little unusual. Over the summer, the tauren had met a wandering Pandaren monk in a bar by Ratchet. The druid understood maybe a fourth of the panda man's deeply accented voice, but he did walk away with a little knowledge of a strange poem know as a "highkew". It followed a very specific syllable pattern that happened to suitably parallel the rhythm and flow of the Taur'ahe voice, and so Samhuinn found it sufficient for his cause. He ended up writing a full page of highkews, describing in poetic detail the characteristics of the most interesting fish he knew and that he deserved the feasts by sheer virtue of understanding the fish and the ecosystem from which they originate while retaining the highkew's specific beauty. Samhuinn was no poet and certainly lacked the arrogance to think of his work as anything but an amateur's, but he could not help but confess to himself and his mate Ambershanks the pride he felt for the works he had spent hours on.
Unfortunately, when he handed the work in to the friendly neighborhood goblin translator, he neglected to read the many pages of fine text that told him which of the countless additional fees would achieve the most accurate translation. The poems ended up in the hands of the only goblin on staff capable of reading Taur'ahe - coincidentally, the most underpaid, overworked goblin on the entire bluff, whose girlfriend had just left him the night before and whose trusty felhound pet had passed away that morning in a tragic and "unavoidable" accident with a Goblin Rocket Launcher. He skimmed the text, got the gist of it, scribbled out a very loose translation into Orcish. This was in turn translated into Goblin, which was then translated into Common, then Darnassian for reasons nobody could quite figure out, then finally back into Common by the time it reached the hands of the contest's judge. This is the result of their tinkering.
Fish is so delish
Every night I pray and wish
For scrum-tee-us fish
It's my favorite dish
Dark and plump? I'd demolish
Any given fish
And with some garnish
To make it seem less ogrish
Do you crave my fish?
Starving or peckish
Hot or cold or lukewarmish
Give me all your fish!
187: Food
Ambershanks Runetotem wrinkled his black-button nose, blood-soaked whiskers shaking before his slitted blue eyes. The stench of kodo blood and flesh was an assault on all his senses, as though the very touch fueled the burning in his legs, the smell pumping the rapid beating of his heart. There was only a moment's breath before he dug his maw back into the bull's side, gnawing away through the rock of its skin to break to the soft moisture of its flesh.
Samhuinn Blackhorn sighed, slumping down upon a rock. Unlike a rat or a snake, a kodo's death was never instantaneous, even with Ambershanks's instinctive strength. Their necks were too large to snap even for a bear's might, and so a lingering death by bloodloss was the only viable hunting option. Samhuinn forced the mercy of slumber upon the kodo, driving the bull into dreamless sleep as the life of its body was drained by Ambershanks's claws.
A full minute passed before Ambershanks looked up at his mate, curious eyes radiant against the bloodied tan of his face. He kneeled his head and tore off a chunk of the creature's flesh, padding over and plopping in front of the bull's hooves. Samhuinn had to smile. The cat's silent question was met with a soft "I am not... hungry r-right now."
"You made his death a merciful one, love," Ambershanks pined, his voice too soft after such a violent act. "Death is-"
"Death is a part of life," Samhuinn finished for the lion, though his eyes did not lift. ".. Were... we... not to kill this... kodo for his flesh, f-for his life, then we would kill a plant, o-or another beast. D-death must come that we may further our own lives. It is the way... of the world."
"Exactly. Now take a bite before he gets cold. There's a little too much to carry back as he is now, and I know you, you would sooner set up camp here than let a single piece of his body go to waste. Yes?" Ambershanks trotted over and started to dig into the skin on the kodo's other side, invigorated by the warm blood he had taken. Ripping off a second piece of meat, he again took it over to his mate, set it down on top of the first chunk, and rubbed his head pointedly against Samhuinn's hands until the younger druid had no choice but to pat him. "T-tanka chi," he murmured, Taur'ahe words of gratitude.
After a minute or two, Samhuinn had tentatively began nibbling on the raw flesh, his eyes half watching the lion burrow into the grey animal's side. After a few long moments, the bull spoke, eyes on his own food.
"... So... many must die, s-such that so few must live, though, A-ambershanks." The lion's ear flickered. "N-not just... f-for food. T-the tiny c-creatures we cannot see, t-the blades of grass upon which we step - s-so much death, s-so much death so that we may see just one more day. Just... one m-more..."
Ambershanks had known Samhuinn long enough to see where this was heading, and in an instant, he was back in his tauren manifestation, wiping the blood free from his maw as he settled upon beside Samhuinn and wrapped an arm around him. He spoke no words just yet, but patted on Samhuinn's shoulder until the younger bull continued.
"... Why... d-does it have to be like this... A-ambershanks?" he asked, his head low such that his eyes peered up at his mate. "Why w-would the Earthmother... make this so? H-how can I... h-how can I justify peace, w-when my very act of existence i-is a war w-with the same things I am t-trying to protect?"
"Well, Samhuinn," Ambershanks replied calmly, his fingers pressing under his mate's shoulderpads against the cloth of his undershirt. Light hints of pink flashed on the tips of the fur around his mouth. "If you were the Earthmother, how would you have it?"
Samhuinn was silent for a long moment. He placed his head down on Ambershanks's shoulder and closed his eyes. After a long moment, he spoke without moving. "... It... i-it will sound childish. We would eat... rocks, o-or simply eat the air. There would be.. no death, n-no birth, a-and everybody would be content."
"... Samhuinn." Ambershanks's smile became almost mischievous. He gently placed his finger under Samhuinn's chin and pulled his mate's head up, such that he looked at him. "... Would you... honestly wish to live like that? We would run out of room in days. You have seen how quickly the hares of these plains generate little ones."
"... N... ... ... N-no."
"... Have faith. Everything we do... is guided by the Earthmother, every little action. Sometimes it may seem... that some of us go... before our time, but she would never call somebody home too early. Perhaps death is not so bad, love? Do not be afraid of it."
There was a long moment's pause. A chill ran past the two, breaking the warmth of the summer afternoon. Ambershanks stirred slightly, but Samhuinn was still.
"... I-I am... not afraid... ... of, o-of death. I am.. not afraid of it. ... M-maybe dying, but not death, n-no. B-but I feel... very sad... for those who are afraid."
"Whether they accept it or not, Samhuinn, my love, when it is their time, it is their time... and there is... nothing we can do, but to accept that."
Samhuinn looked up at Ambershanks, his breath held in his throat, but Ambershanks was watching the horizon. There was a word, a name on the tip of the lips of both taurens, a name that did not need to be spoken. The smaller tauren held his companion for a moment longer before finally sliding off the rock. He grabbed up the cooling meat from the grass, closed his eyes in a moment's prayer, and ate.
188: Unconditional
The doe leaned back onto her haunches, set the loincloth she had been washing down upon her lap, and sighed. She had not intended to betray her inner exhaustion; it was too good, too warm a sensation to feel like a great deal of effort. Despite the smile on the doe's face, her elder partner looked up from the stream, her wrinkled old face hardened into a look of stern countenance.
"Now, Galatai, don't make such awful sounds. We all warned you that raising a child isn't as easy as you would so wish it.”
More curious than defensive, the younger tauren tilted her head slightly toward the elder. The older doe’s gnarled old body seemed to creak under its own weight as she leaned forward, letting the water of the stream run past and over the kilt she held against its surface. The younger one smiled again. She had been doing so much of it lately, she wondered if she had forgotten how to do otherwise.
“Oh, no, Great Mother. Samhuinn, he is... He really is no trouble at all.”
“Really,” the older doe remarked. She snorted her skepticism loudly as she yanked the kilt out of the stream, handing it to her companion. “Samhuinn this, Samhuinn that. Well, I think it is an affront to our great and noble ancestors that you would name him such. Samhuinn is one of our most sacred of festivals - hand me the scrubbing salts, will you?” She extended an arm, waiting for the young mother to give her a handful before continuing. “Giving such an esteemed name to an outsider - well, you can very well see how it might give some of us pause, yes?”
“With blessings and respect for your great wisdom and insight, Great Mother,” the younger responded, her voice soft, “We have not celebrated Samhuinn since even before your time. I pray that the name gives him strength. Keltoi and I agree that he needs it.”
“Then you have welcomed a weak bull into our tribe, Galatai. Has the gift of motherhood blinded you so fiercely that you cannot see?”
“I see what is important, Great Mother,” the younger doe replied, mellow against the sharpness of the older female’s words. “I see a little calf who has suffered very much, a little calf whose only respite may come from love that no other will give him. And I see a blessing, a gift that Keltoi and I have been trying to create for many, many seasons.”
“And I see a chilly little creature who’ll not even look his elders in the eye. We’ve not heard him utter a single word of respect or gratitude for saving his miserable little life.” The elder did not look up from the stream as she spoke, furiously waving her clothing into and out of the water. “I would hold my tongue were he of your blood, Galatai, but make no mistake, he is not Greytail, neither in form nor in spirit. By the gods, Galatai, we do not even know from whence he came. What if he comes from one of those cannibal tribes, like the, kodo’s breath, what is it, the Lifeblood tribe. What if he is one of those terrible Blackhorns? Or Earthmother save you, what if he if he has the blood of the Grimtotem in him?"
The younger doe sighed once more. Her smile had lost some of its serenity, but it remained. "It matters no longer. He is my son, and I am Greytail with every beat of my heart, so he is Greytail too, no matter what he once was."
"Tch!" The elder sounded, shaking her head briskly. She nearly tossed the sopping clothing onto the younger tauren's lap and rose to her hooves. "Well, for your sake and the tribe's, I hope that you are right. We need no ill omens in a time such as this. Mark my words, Galatai, but you can only protect this one so much. He will need to prove himself to the tribe before he is a bull grown, and if really does he needs as much help as you're going to give him, he will grow up soft and weak. Honor of one's family depends upon one's bloodlines, Galatai... and if you have chosen this miserab... ... this calf as your progenitor, then young one, you had best raise him well."
The younger tauren did not respond quickly, so the Great Mother gathered up her clothing into her basket and stepped from the riverbank onto the grass, heading back for camp. The smile had been removed from the younger female's face, and she stared into the water rushing past her. She looked down for a long time.
189: Solitary
I walk behind you, always by your light, always within your shadow. You are always in my mind, whether it should be that I worry for your safety, that I await your presence come the fall of night, that I wonder what she is thinking as she looks at you on those nights I sit alone, with only the fire to keep me company.
I will never defy you; I could never defy you, no more than I could defy myself. I will smile and I will close my eyes, and I will not think of her wrapped into your chest and taking in your scent, I will not imagine the tips of her fingers along your scars, I will not imagine her tongue along yours. I will not imagine what she can give you that I do not. I will not ask where you were when you return, no matter if you smell as she does, no matter if your hair is disheveled and awry, no matter if I do not see you until the morning light.
I wonder if you know what you do to me. I wonder if you would change if you did. I cannot expect you to feel the same way I do. I cannot expect you to know the loneliness I feel on those nights I have been replaced, because you, my love, will never know loneliness. You have given me so much, you have offered me such sacrifice, it is not something I can do to judge you, to spite you, to disapprove of you and your ways when you spared me the very same vices. I pray that you do not think of me on those nights when you have taken another; I pray that you never know how much it hurts inside. Every bit of joy that surges within me is yours, and so I do not owe you my guilt.
Still, quietly, when you cannot listen, I wish upon the night that you could understand.
190: End
Ambershanks didn't like to close his eyes and recall the last months. He had drawn out all the terror and the anger and the sorrow that he could, and he feared that the only emotion left to sacrifice would be something integral, a key part of what sanity he still maintained. His home was a shambles, his family dead or worse, the world swiftly dribbling downhill into hell. There were only two things important left in the world, his life and his mate's. By the end of the night, he would lose one if not both.
The bite was deep. It would have proven a severe injury from an animal; from those things, those hideous false charades of friends and family, a bite was without doubt fatal. What few healing powers Samhuinn could muster through his gibbering delusions were proving paltry, and what vestiges of survival healing Ambershanks provided was ineffective. Maybe in a safe tent or a barracks, Ambershanks told himself, leaning down once more in a feeble attempt to suck free the venom from the wound in Samhuinn's thigh. Maybe with a priest or a paladin. Maybe if there were any safe tents or priests left. But Ambershanks as the hours had loomed into days and into weeks, he began to wonder, then consider, then believe that he and Samhuinn were the only living ones left.
It had been difficult, escaping from Thunder Bluff. The living had proven more deadly than the walking dead as the slow and the old were trampled under hooves, squished, tossed aside. Samhuinn swore he saw a young doe pushed over the brink of the higher bluffs. Only through Ambershanks's instruction did the two escape alive, using their cat forms to dart between legs and past the moaning caricatures of taurenfolk, trying to ignore the gut-wrenching screams of agony and chaos swarming around them.
There were a few survivors, Ambershanks and Samhuinn among them. They could reach nobody through their speaking stones, but a few of the other survivors were able to get in touch with their loved ones. Even last city was in pandemonium. Even the stalwart Forsaken could be turned. Even Arthas's forces were finding themselves being eaten from the inside out, their very own mindless Scourge susceptible to a greater chaos than the Lich King could muster. Each night communications grew thinner and thinner until at last there came no word from the world outside Mulgore.
It was thought that wide-open plains with abundant crops and hunting animals would have proven safe grounds for such slow-moving mindless droves. But one by one they fell. Some wandered too far out into the dark and found themselves surrounded by the things. Some had become unaccustomed to a wild life and passed away through the rigors of nature. But most of them just snapped. Small fights escalated over days or hours or minutes or seconds into bloodthirsty murders as the weight of all they had lost broke their spirits and shattered their sanity. Some screamed, some mumbled, some sang. But one by one the madness fell upon them.
Ambershanks took Samhuinn off before the makeshift tribe could massacre itself. For such a timid bull, Samhuinn had to his credit remained strong. He had cried, of course, in private, in Ambershanks's arms, but after that he had proven cautious, dedicated, and above all, he managed to keep a grasp on his internal sense of order when the rest of the world was spiraling into chaos. In a moment of exhaustion, Ambershanks exclaimed that Samhuinn would sometimes snap when all was well and yet keep it together when the world was hell. They fought that night. They had fought several times since the onset, sometimes coming to blows or, once, bites. But through it all they had come to trust one another and depend on one another in a way their civilized lives would not afford.
That was coming to an end now. The infection was spreading through Samhuinn's body. It had been for three days. That warm body he had come to depend on during the darkest nights was growing cold, like ice were being dispersed through his body. His breathing had stopped even as his heart still beat. He had begun to drool more, and snort, and sometimes his eyes opened and stared at Ambershanks, but they did not see.
Samhuinn had made a final request the night before, when he could still speak. Ambershanks had shaken his head and resolved with everything he was that he would not grant that request, that it was beyond him, that the request was like giving up and Ambershanks would not give up. He watched the younger tauren's gradual change into something he was not. And he realized that to honor his mate and to give him any chance at peace beyond, it was what he had to do.
He lifted his hammer.
Wham. Wham. Wham.
He wondered which of them it hurt more.
Wham. Wham. Wham.
He could have been quieter, but he did not care. He did not care if all the stupid drooling monstrous damnable things in the entire plain converged on him now. Maybe he would have welcomed it, as long as first they would let him stop Samhuinn. There would be time for crying afterward. No, no, maybe there wouldn't be. Maybe it wouldn't make a difference.
Wham. Wham. Wham.
There was no good or bad or right or wrong anymore. There was no civil or savage or just or unfair anymore, there was only necessity. There was doing what had to be done, and this had to be done. He had to, he had to, he had to.
Wham. Wham.
The red hammer fell to earth.
~Sam))
You know the drill. Ficlets are posted once every, um, two weeks or so (hey, it's hard!), to storiesbysam.
Samhuinn dies twice in this batch. There's a special place for me in character hell, where you're subject to everything you put your characters through.
181: Words
His head on his palms, his back in the grass, his mate's head lounging upon his chest, Samhuinn Runetotem looked up. A canopy of green leaves encompassed the forest of Feralas, though streaks of pale golden sun struck through the cracks, bathing the land in dim light. The crashing of a water upon the rocks drowned out the buzzing and chirping of the insects and bees. The two tauren had remained undisturbed, lying around in the shade on a warm sunny day.
A low hum in Samhuinn's throat broke the monotony of the waterfall. "Did you know," Samhuinn inquired softly. "... That they say o-our means of, o-of communication are... h-how to put it... That we communicate almost t-ten times more through the language o-of our bodies than through our words? Our eyes a-and hands a-and such are more important than our spoken content."
"Mrrrrr," purred the larger bull, stirring slightly. "Our actions, you say?" he mumbled sleepily. As Samhuinn lifted his head to nod his affirmation, Ambershanks grinned. He grabbed the hem of his mate's shirt and hoisted it up, exposing the younger bull's reddish-furred tummy. Before Samhuinn could react, he rolled over and put his mouth to Samhuinn's belly-button and blew into it, causing the loud, vibrating rumble of pressed air. As Samhuinn wriggled and started to protest, Ambershanks lifted his head and said, as calmly and seriously as possible, "Then what does this tell you, love?" He raspberried his stomach once again.
"S-stop!" Samhuinn cried through helpless laughter. He eventually pulled his mate's head off of his belly and brought it back up to his chest, keeping it pinned there. "E-earthmother, it tells me y-you cannot take anything seriously! This is i-important!" Wiping away the hint of a tear, he sank back into the grass. Ambershanks peered up at his face until he spoke again.
"... I-it really is important," Samhuinn repeated, his voice lowering. "I fear so much, f-for my words, that they do not offend o-or hurt, I... do not... stop to think, perhaps, w-what I am saying without words. M-maybe I should not frown so much... O-or maybe, when I look away, I, um..."
"Or when you blush," Ambershanks offered, glancing expectantly at his mate. He laughed in triumph at the hints of red under Samhuinn's cheekfur as he began to mount a protest. Flopping more of his body on the darker bull, Ambershanks, his chin smeared into Samhuinn's upper chest, added, "I don't know, though. We seem to communicate all right via the speaking stone, don't we? I think I usually know fairly well what you are saying and sometimes even how you are acting, even if I do not see you."
"... I... well, um..."
"And you read, all the time. Those words don't have body language, do they? I don't know if it's as extreme as you think."
"A... a-are you sure?"
"Tell you what," Ambershanks said, biting down on his lower lip. He rose his hands to cushion his chin upon Samhuinn's body. "You said... ten times as much? Next time we speak on the stone, I will say 'I love you' ten times, just to make sure you know it. Fair enough?"
Samhuinn had to laugh. "G-gods, love, you don't need to do that."
"Well, do you want me to?"
The younger bull smiled. "I do." But he knew that the smile and the faintest tinge of red on his cheeks would have said it for him.
182: Sacrifice
Though they did not fall upon his skin, Ambershanks felt the brunt of every strike. The rope scraped with a furious, maddening, burning pain along his bare upper arms and across his chest. Each punch set him rocking, each hit set him digging in against his bindings, each second knowing with adrenaline's folly that just a little more effort and the rope would break free, just a little more and his shackles of twine would snap and he would propel himself forward and crush the Grimtotem's head into pulp. It would take him one thunderous slam, not the jabs and knocks that the larger bull was inflicting upon his bound, helpless mate. One hit, Ambershanks prayed, as the sweat fell into his eyes and merged with blood down below his shoulder, one hit would be all he would need. Break free. One hit, and this nightmare would be over.
His prayer went unanswered. With a roar of frustration, Ambershanks sank back against his post. He tilted his head up to stare at the ceiling, but found that taking his eyes off of Samhuinn for even a second was a pain he could not bear. His mate was swollen, bleeding profusely from his mouth and a new cut opened near his ear. He met each punch that connected with his face with a low gasp and a whimper, but never more. If only the orcs that tease him all the time could see him now, Ambershanks thought bitterly. A lesser bull would have been weeping for mercy an hour ago.
"Killer," the Grimtotem spoke, addressing Ambershanks. He snapped his massive, blood-touched fingers. One of the four warriors in the tent tossed him a cloth laden with dirt. He wiped his knuckles clean of Samhuinn's blood as he spoke. "You have brought your torture upon yourself. You have no other to blame. All you need do is tell me what I wish to know."
"You're deaf or stupid, numb hoof, I don't know a damn thing." Ambershanks spoke defiantly, through teeth grit, but it was true. The Grimtotem desired knowledge, knowledge of the Arch Druid Hamuul Runetotem's plans for the Grimtotem tribes of Feralas, plans for expansion of the nearby Camp Mojache, any sorts of plans that would interfere with the cryptic Grimtotem agenda. If they figured his own blood would divulge in his nephew his secrets, they clearly did not know the old bull too well. A dozen or a hundred or a thousand times, Ambershanks had told the enormous black-furred beast of a bull that he knew nothing, that he swore it upon his life and the life of his poor mate. But every denial lead to one more blow upon Samhuinn's being, and Ambershanks was reaching the very limit of his mental and emotional capacities.
"Don't... don't... d-dont t-tell him anything," Samhuinn had stammered through his teeth, some time ago, when they were mostly intact.
"You idiot!" Ambershanks had bellowed at him. His voice teetered on hysterical as the dark tauren rammed his fist into the smaller bull again, and again, and again. "Don't say that, you little fool, don't say that, you will make him thing I know something, but I don't know anything! I have nothing to tell! Gods damn you, I don't know anything! I don't know anything!"
Ambershanks found himself repeating those words again before he could catch himself. Each sentence earned Samhuinn another blow until Ambershanks's voice trailed off into a desperate moan. He hanged his head low and whimpering to his lover "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry", until the Grimtotem took each apology out as a hit. Then Ambershanks squeezed his eyes shut and fell into silence.
"It's a shame," the Grimtotem growled. "I had more important things to do today." He turned from Ambershanks. He grabbed Samhuinn by the neck with one paw and rammed his knuckles into the druid's stomach with the other. As Samhuinn lurched forward, the Grimtotem yanked his fist up and uppercut him in the chin, sending the smaller bull's head snapping back into the post behind him with a loud crack.
He can't be dead. Ambershanks felt his insides turn to water. The Grimtotem held Samhuinn's head up by the mane. There was no life in the druid's swollen, blood-drenched features. His nostril had been split; his splintered nosering now jammed in just below his eye. Is he dead? Ambershanks felt light-headed, as though he were falling down slowly backwards. He can't be dead. The statement pervaded all thoughts. He can't be dead. Is he dead? He can't be dead. Oh gods, even if he survives, he might not wake up, his face is so twisted, gods, gods, there is so much blood, gods, I don't care as long as he lives, he can't be dead, he can't be dead, not before me, not before me. He can't be dead.
"The deal has been changed," the Grimtotem snorted. His ashen fingers dropped Samhuinn's head, letting it fall forward. His chin hit the ropes, quickly coating them in a thick stream of red. "You could have traded information for his life. Now you have the option of trading information for his body. Tell me what you know."
Ambershanks tried to speak. To say something, anything. To plead for his life, to spit at his hooves, to insult the Grimtotem's mother and his mother's mother and all his ancestor's mothers, to beg, to wail, to bargain, to threaten, anything at all, but his throat was so dry. The ropes scraped against his skin as he shook. His tongue seemed to fill up his entire mouth as his lips groped to parse a word that never formed. The Grimtotem watched, dissatisfied.
"A pity."
He grappled Samhuinn by the throat and slammed his head back against the post. His fingers tightened until the knuckles turned white, clamping his neck against the wood. Then he stopped, because Samhuinn had choked a final gurgle of defiance, and an instant later, Ambershanks was babbling. He said everything he had ever known about Feralas. He told of his uncle's plans to secure a nonviolence treaty with Feathermoon Stronghold, which was true. He spoke of a plan to quell the gnoll tribes without extinguishing them by eliminating the alpha males, which was false. He spoke of every rumor, fact, implication, and remotely relevant tibid of information pertaining to Feralas or the Grimtotems that he could in any way associate with Hamuul Runetotem. As the tears stung his eyes and drool fell from his mouth as he stammered and prattled on, he prayed from the depths of the spirit he could muster to let his mate go free, to let him live, to be spared. Take my life, he thought, take my life, take my uncle, take all of this damned forest, but don't take him from me, not him too, not him too...
What felt like hours later, Ambershanks's mind was blank, save for the dull throbbing of pain in his skull. The Grimtotem appraised him with cold gray eyes. Finally, he looked up at one of the warriors by the door, grunting to get the other bull's attention.
"You get all that?" he demanded.
"Enough," the soldier replied.
"Good." The Grimtotem nodded, gesturing nonchalantly to Samhuinn. "This one didn't do anything. Take him out and hang him. Quickly," he added as an afterthought. "Before he wakes up."
Two of the Grimtotem fighters stepped forward and began to undo the smaller druid's bindings. Ambershanks watched, feeling for the first time in many years, the gut-wrenching mind-searing horror of complete and utter helpless fear. "No," he heard himself croak, "No... no... no... no... no... no..."
"And the killer?" a warrior asked.
"Bleed him." The largest Grimtotem looked down at himself and grinned. It was an expression a hundred times more sickening than his scowl. "Drain his blood bit by bit from as many different cuts as you can. Give him water so he doesn't die too soon." The bull leaned forward and grabbed Ambershanks's nosering, tugging the tauren's head up. The druid made one last feeble struggle, before finally feeling his body give up. He stared up at the Grimtotem, blank.
"You may have forgotten Thalkarsh, but I have not."
Before Ambershanks could protest, he felt a hand clasp over his mouth, strong fingers digging deep into his cheeks. Then he felt the first of many cuts run along his shoulder down around his arm and into his palm.
183: Cure
"Gods damn you, Samhuinn!"
Ambershanks Runetotem snatched a pillow off from his haybed, the place of his rest for the last half-moon, and threw it down to the dirt. Samhuinn Greytail sat across the tent, his arms folded across his chest. He regarded the action with sullen half-interest before turning his gaze back to the floor.
"Are you even listening to me? Gods, you... you just as well could had lied to me."
"I did not li-"
"You did not tell the truth!" Ambershanks stamped twice toward his mate, but Samhuinn's disinterested visage caused him to stop, throwing his hands up. His illness-thinned face was locked in fury. "Amanda is dead, Samhuinn, she is dead. Why did you not tell me? I could have stopped them! She did not have to die, damn you, Samhuinn!"
"You... d-do not even understand," Samhuinn muttered. His shoulders raised, but not in his typical bashful demeanor. He was cold, refusing to raise his voice, refusing to stand, refusing to meet Ambershanks's eyes. "You... d-do not know what happened this week. Y-you said yourself you do not r-"
"By the gods!" Ambershanks grabbed the second pillow up from the bed. He punched it between his fists with a loud growl before tossing it back. "That is not the point! I know enough, Samhuinn, I know that Amanda is dead, and if you had told Nakota, or Amanda herself, or gods! If you could just grow up and just talk to Apada-"
"I want n-nothing to do with him," Samhuinn grumbled. He nodded his head forward, a fall of black hair tumbling over his eyes. He scooted around on the stool, turning his back on his mate. "Nothing, y-you understand?"
Ambershanks raised his hands up to clutch the hair on his head. "Samhuinn, you fool, you thrice-damned fool, you just don't understand. This is not about you!" He stepped forward toward Samhuinn Greytail once more, this time not turning back. "This isn't about you and Apada, this is about Amanda. This is about Pandamona, and Hsarus, and Pheros, and me. This is about you lying to me, s-"
"Gods, A-ambershanks, you think I do not know?" Samhuinn shot up to his hooves. He whirled around and faced Ambershanks with a dangerous, panic-stricken look lighting his features. "I, I, I am not so... daft as you make me out to be! You think I simply... s-sat aside? L-laughed as she died? You were dying before m-my eyes, Sainn was clawing to escape, and those dreams, gods, these wicked dreams t-that afford me no peace!" Samhuinn was trembling by now, eyes wavering with water, but he was not crying. "I hate them, Ambershanks, I, I, I-I do not want to, b-but I hate them. I-I hate what they did to you, w-what they did to us, w-what they are, are, a-are... a-are t-trying to do to me..."
Ambershanks crossed his arms over his chest, watching with eyes narrow. He had lost a great deal of hair from his sickness, and he was sickly thin. But his anger had not diffused. After Samhuinn sputtered his final words, Ambershanks stepped up to him, getting up into his face.
"Greytail, when I am under... like that, when I am... not able to see, to say, to... perceive, you must be my senses. You must speak for me, and you must see and hear that you may relay to me. I was death-bound - would be dead by now, had Stormsurge, Earthmother bless that shield-brother of mine, not come with that cure." Ambershanks raised his hands and set them heavily down upon Samhuinn's shoulders. "I know you were suffering, I know it was hard, and I know I do not know for certain what this last week has shown you. But I know most of all that the mate I love would not be so cold toward Amanda's death if he could have prevented it so easily."
Samhuinn's ears had flattened against his scalp. He opened his mouth to speak twice, but could find nothing to say. Ambershanks's gaze remained on his eyes, insistent. There was a long minute of silence between them.
"You just... d-don't understand, Ambershanks," Samhuinn finally replied. He closed his eyes and shook his head.
Ambershanks stared at him for a long moment. Then, with a loud grunt of disapproval, he pulled his arms back from Samhuinn. He spun around in the dirt, grabbed up his traveling pack, and turned for the tent.
"So be it. Since you won't do a thing, I'll have to make sure Nakota and Apada don't suffer the same fate myself. When you figure things out, I'll be in the Undercity."
By the time Samhuinn built up the courage to reply, Ambershanks was already long gone, running down the circular path around the Elder Rise. He suddenly felt very tired. He sank back down onto his stool, put his head down into his hands, and sighed.
184: Cutting Corners
It would be the easiest thing in the world, Samhuinn Runetotem told himself, peering down at the sapling. A minute's time worth of spells, even a thorough blessing by the Earthmother, and I can go home. It has been a long day. I was up before dawn. There was that meeting with Hamuul, that second one with Bashana, then the flight to Azshara in the middle of the region. How long did I spend there? I skipped lunch and scarcely remembered to take supper. Was that after Felwood or before? That's right, I spent last night there. It's been days, since...
The tauren sighed, peering down at his dirt-caked palms. It had been three nights since he had seen Ambershanks, and as the sun settled beyond the many distant mountains of the barrens, this promised to be the fourth. He had come out here to the Stagnant Oasis for a single purpose - rain. The summer had been harder than usual on the arid lands, but the plants here were hardy, able to survive and sometimes thrive with the rare water from the skies that fell.
Not this plant, Samhuinn knew. He had planted it himself. The tree was not native to central Kalimdor at all, yet its presence had given new hope to Felwood. It was a lifegiving tree, capable of nourishing the soil for many meters around it, given the proper care and nourishment. It required meticulous effort to raise, and as of yet none had attempted to grow it apart from its natural habitat. The seed that became the sapling that the tauren now looked down upon had come a very long way.
Even for a novice raincaller, to summon the rains in a place like the Un'Goro crater is a fairly simple task. To bring the rain to less humid regions required much more effort, and only the greatest could bring the gift of water to arid lands.
Samhuinn thought he could do it. The barrens had been too dry too long; there was bound to be rain before long, and he felt that with effort he could bring them around prematurely. As the weight of the day and the week and the season's exhaustion crept up on him, as the longing to see his mate grew stronger, as the overwhelming urge toward apathy overtook him, he was no longer so sure the effort was worth it.
A few spells would be almost as good. To stay here for hours praying for rain that may or may not come would cut into his sleeping time, or worse, into his time with his mate. A little nourishing magic and a small prayer to the Earthmother would be plenty for any normal plant. He could afford to take a little time off from this duty; he had more than earned it. Most druids would not even take the time to come see the plant this late at night.
Despite the persuasiveness of his own argument, Samhuinn found himself frozen, still staring at the tree, paralyzed. He was tired, lonely, hungry, and if he stayed for three hours in hopes for rain, would be wet all the ride back to the crossroads too. Everything told him to make this quick.
Everything, but a small, nagging voice in the back of his head, whispering that the mark of a true druid, the mark of true dedication, is never cutting corners no matter the cost, no matter the effort, no matter the time. It matters not if nobody knows the extent of your tasks or a thousand people know; it matters only that the task is done, to the honest best of your abilities.
The moonlight fell upon the oasis.
"... Gods c-curse it all," Samhuinn grumbled through teeth grit. He inhaled through his snout, let it out in a long, drawn-out sigh. Then he went to one knee and rummaged through his pack for the stones of the raincalling ritual.
185: Forgiven
"... And may you bless... t-those I love, those who act in accordance w-with your cause, and those who shall... one day b-become my ally. May I yet be... f-forgiven for my transgressions. In your name... m-my Earthmother."
Samhuinn Blackhorn blew out the candle, sending the tent into darkness. A brief yet pleasant smell of smoke rose from the cabinet upon which it sat. He smiled briefly at it through the darkness as he undressed himself. He slipped soundlessly into bed beside his sleeping mate, but just as his head touched the pillow, he felt Ambershanks stir beneath the covers.
"Why do you always say that?"
It was a question spoken plainly, yet Samhuinn was silent for a long moment. He hiked the sheets up just over his bare shoulders, curling up into himself as though for warmth.
"... What... i-is it that I say?"
"You beg forgiveness at every nightly prayer, Samhuinn." Ambershanks rolled over to face him. Samhuinn's eyes had not yet adjusted to the dark, yet he saw the faintest shimmer of the tauren's blue eyes shining, like a cat in the distance. "Just what have you done today that requires you to ask the Earthmother for forgiveness?"
"Um, one... never knows," Samhuinn replied lightly, forcing warmth into his voice. "I m-may have, ah... in... i-in, um, inadvertently crushed a-an insect or flower this day. We... all sin, even if we do not intend it. I... ask for forgiveness for that."
"Samhuinn." Ambershanks was a growl in the darkness. "You know I have no fondness for this guessing game. Even you are not so worrisome as that. You and I, we have seen too much and fought too hard to let our past sins weigh us down. If you are worthy of forgiveness, it will come to you in time. And you are," he added, almost as an afterthought. He reached out to touch Samhuinn's cheek, but missed in the darkness and ended up petting his throat.
Ambershanks's voice sounded louder in the darkness than otherwise. Samhuinn's shoulders rose instinctively. He pulled himself onto his back, trying to ignore his mate's hand. "... It is just..."
"Yes..?"
"... It is that... we have... I mean... T-that is to say, that I, ah... um."
"Come on, come, out with it. The sooner we speak, the sooner you may sleep, and I know you've a busy day on the morrow."
"... It has... been so long. ... A-and I have tried to be good... for my life. I am trying, but I... I... I-I fall. Y-you have seen me fall." Samhuinn swallows audibly, a painfully loud noise in the otherwise soft sounds of whispers in the night. "And I have... prayed forgiveness for so long... and yet I do not feel... forgiven. I..."
"... You?" Ambershanks insisted. His voice had the faintest hint of worry. He had stopped caressing Samhuinn's neck.
"... I wonder if I am... beyond... redemption."
"Mrrrr," Ambershanks sounded in the dark. It was a low growl, bothered. For a long while, this was his only response. Samhuinn stared up at the tent's ceiling, his neck arched uncomfortably. Just as he began to wonder if Ambershanks had drifted off into sleep, he felt the bull's muzzle settled down under his neck, felt the warmth of his body nestling against his under the sheets.
"We have... both done awful things," Ambershanks murmured. "Things they wouldn't suspect of... the Arch Druid's own blood, or... his timid partner. I have..." He sighed. His breath felt hot against Samhuinn's throat. "Not missed a night in which I do not question if what I did to... Ironheart... was inevitable. If I had a choice. If I somehow played a role in Nomoon's death - distracted him, perhaps... or simply failed to protect him. Leviathos, and Natayo... All of them. Will I fly to the Summerlands in the beyond, with these weighing upon my soul? I do not know. But I see no need to stop trying. And," he added, feeling Samhuinn's throat twitch as a sign of preparing to speak, "I also see no need to plead and bargain with the Earthmother nightly. She knows I regret, she knows I have pain. And still she gave me you, just as she gave you me - and with me, the power to strike back against your father, just as you may grant me occasional peace from these nightmares. Do you not see it? We will forge our own redemption, with each other."
There was a growing sense of pride in Ambershanks's voice. His words were followed by a sound closely resembling a purr, to which Samhuinn felt a brief snort of mirth rise from his chest out his nose. He did not know how to respond, and by the time he had found the words, Ambershanks's breathing was light and rhythmic against his chest, and he felt no need to wake the elder bull. He sank back into the haybed, finally relaxing, and let his mouth form the words he was afraid to admit.
Not while Korbuk lives.
186: Fish
Samhuinn Runetotem wriggled his nose at the sign. Free fish to those most deserving, the sign stated plainly enough. Tell a story, sing a song, create a piece of art, do something worthy of being the proud owner of 500 meals worth of fresh fishy feasts, with a sizable pile of gold on the side. The judge was clearly a human by name, yet the contest's details were posted all over Booty Bay, with no clear indicant of bias toward either Alliance or Horde forces. The sea spray was starting to make Samhuinn's eyes hurt, but he knew he could not surmount his growing interest, and that if he left now, he would only come back later to study the rules a little more.
Hamuul would most likely be very happy if I were to give the feasts up to the circle, the tauren pondered. He had been staring at the paper for nearly ten minutes now, and he was starting to draw the attention of a goblin fisherman half-worried, half-annoyed at him hogging up a spot near the pier. He could give them to one of those starving troll tribes in the Hinterlands, perhaps, to coerce them to stop attacking Hammerfall, or maybe offer them to the naga of Zangarmarsh in hopes of quenching their ecodestructive ways. He could donate the money to the local druidic foundation of wherever the fish came from, too, to help them replenish the population and try to offset the imbalance that may have been caused. The rewards were certainly enticing enough; the means by which he would even attempt to win them, however, proved vexing.
So Samhuinn Runetotem puttered around for a few days, writing stories, writing essays, writing poems. He was no great warrior or wise elder or brave fighter, but he had a little writing talent for the predominantly oral language Taur'ahe. Most of this writing, however, fell short of his loftly expectations. Some of his potential submissions sounded too much like begging, some sounded too altruistic to be true, and one toed the line of bribery far too closely. After a few days of furious editing and a hundred and one ideas, Samhuinn decided to try something a little unusual. Over the summer, the tauren had met a wandering Pandaren monk in a bar by Ratchet. The druid understood maybe a fourth of the panda man's deeply accented voice, but he did walk away with a little knowledge of a strange poem know as a "highkew". It followed a very specific syllable pattern that happened to suitably parallel the rhythm and flow of the Taur'ahe voice, and so Samhuinn found it sufficient for his cause. He ended up writing a full page of highkews, describing in poetic detail the characteristics of the most interesting fish he knew and that he deserved the feasts by sheer virtue of understanding the fish and the ecosystem from which they originate while retaining the highkew's specific beauty. Samhuinn was no poet and certainly lacked the arrogance to think of his work as anything but an amateur's, but he could not help but confess to himself and his mate Ambershanks the pride he felt for the works he had spent hours on.
Unfortunately, when he handed the work in to the friendly neighborhood goblin translator, he neglected to read the many pages of fine text that told him which of the countless additional fees would achieve the most accurate translation. The poems ended up in the hands of the only goblin on staff capable of reading Taur'ahe - coincidentally, the most underpaid, overworked goblin on the entire bluff, whose girlfriend had just left him the night before and whose trusty felhound pet had passed away that morning in a tragic and "unavoidable" accident with a Goblin Rocket Launcher. He skimmed the text, got the gist of it, scribbled out a very loose translation into Orcish. This was in turn translated into Goblin, which was then translated into Common, then Darnassian for reasons nobody could quite figure out, then finally back into Common by the time it reached the hands of the contest's judge. This is the result of their tinkering.
Fish is so delish
Every night I pray and wish
For scrum-tee-us fish
It's my favorite dish
Dark and plump? I'd demolish
Any given fish
And with some garnish
To make it seem less ogrish
Do you crave my fish?
Starving or peckish
Hot or cold or lukewarmish
Give me all your fish!
187: Food
Ambershanks Runetotem wrinkled his black-button nose, blood-soaked whiskers shaking before his slitted blue eyes. The stench of kodo blood and flesh was an assault on all his senses, as though the very touch fueled the burning in his legs, the smell pumping the rapid beating of his heart. There was only a moment's breath before he dug his maw back into the bull's side, gnawing away through the rock of its skin to break to the soft moisture of its flesh.
Samhuinn Blackhorn sighed, slumping down upon a rock. Unlike a rat or a snake, a kodo's death was never instantaneous, even with Ambershanks's instinctive strength. Their necks were too large to snap even for a bear's might, and so a lingering death by bloodloss was the only viable hunting option. Samhuinn forced the mercy of slumber upon the kodo, driving the bull into dreamless sleep as the life of its body was drained by Ambershanks's claws.
A full minute passed before Ambershanks looked up at his mate, curious eyes radiant against the bloodied tan of his face. He kneeled his head and tore off a chunk of the creature's flesh, padding over and plopping in front of the bull's hooves. Samhuinn had to smile. The cat's silent question was met with a soft "I am not... hungry r-right now."
"You made his death a merciful one, love," Ambershanks pined, his voice too soft after such a violent act. "Death is-"
"Death is a part of life," Samhuinn finished for the lion, though his eyes did not lift. ".. Were... we... not to kill this... kodo for his flesh, f-for his life, then we would kill a plant, o-or another beast. D-death must come that we may further our own lives. It is the way... of the world."
"Exactly. Now take a bite before he gets cold. There's a little too much to carry back as he is now, and I know you, you would sooner set up camp here than let a single piece of his body go to waste. Yes?" Ambershanks trotted over and started to dig into the skin on the kodo's other side, invigorated by the warm blood he had taken. Ripping off a second piece of meat, he again took it over to his mate, set it down on top of the first chunk, and rubbed his head pointedly against Samhuinn's hands until the younger druid had no choice but to pat him. "T-tanka chi," he murmured, Taur'ahe words of gratitude.
After a minute or two, Samhuinn had tentatively began nibbling on the raw flesh, his eyes half watching the lion burrow into the grey animal's side. After a few long moments, the bull spoke, eyes on his own food.
"... So... many must die, s-such that so few must live, though, A-ambershanks." The lion's ear flickered. "N-not just... f-for food. T-the tiny c-creatures we cannot see, t-the blades of grass upon which we step - s-so much death, s-so much death so that we may see just one more day. Just... one m-more..."
Ambershanks had known Samhuinn long enough to see where this was heading, and in an instant, he was back in his tauren manifestation, wiping the blood free from his maw as he settled upon beside Samhuinn and wrapped an arm around him. He spoke no words just yet, but patted on Samhuinn's shoulder until the younger bull continued.
"... Why... d-does it have to be like this... A-ambershanks?" he asked, his head low such that his eyes peered up at his mate. "Why w-would the Earthmother... make this so? H-how can I... h-how can I justify peace, w-when my very act of existence i-is a war w-with the same things I am t-trying to protect?"
"Well, Samhuinn," Ambershanks replied calmly, his fingers pressing under his mate's shoulderpads against the cloth of his undershirt. Light hints of pink flashed on the tips of the fur around his mouth. "If you were the Earthmother, how would you have it?"
Samhuinn was silent for a long moment. He placed his head down on Ambershanks's shoulder and closed his eyes. After a long moment, he spoke without moving. "... It... i-it will sound childish. We would eat... rocks, o-or simply eat the air. There would be.. no death, n-no birth, a-and everybody would be content."
"... Samhuinn." Ambershanks's smile became almost mischievous. He gently placed his finger under Samhuinn's chin and pulled his mate's head up, such that he looked at him. "... Would you... honestly wish to live like that? We would run out of room in days. You have seen how quickly the hares of these plains generate little ones."
"... N... ... ... N-no."
"... Have faith. Everything we do... is guided by the Earthmother, every little action. Sometimes it may seem... that some of us go... before our time, but she would never call somebody home too early. Perhaps death is not so bad, love? Do not be afraid of it."
There was a long moment's pause. A chill ran past the two, breaking the warmth of the summer afternoon. Ambershanks stirred slightly, but Samhuinn was still.
"... I-I am... not afraid... ... of, o-of death. I am.. not afraid of it. ... M-maybe dying, but not death, n-no. B-but I feel... very sad... for those who are afraid."
"Whether they accept it or not, Samhuinn, my love, when it is their time, it is their time... and there is... nothing we can do, but to accept that."
Samhuinn looked up at Ambershanks, his breath held in his throat, but Ambershanks was watching the horizon. There was a word, a name on the tip of the lips of both taurens, a name that did not need to be spoken. The smaller tauren held his companion for a moment longer before finally sliding off the rock. He grabbed up the cooling meat from the grass, closed his eyes in a moment's prayer, and ate.
188: Unconditional
The doe leaned back onto her haunches, set the loincloth she had been washing down upon her lap, and sighed. She had not intended to betray her inner exhaustion; it was too good, too warm a sensation to feel like a great deal of effort. Despite the smile on the doe's face, her elder partner looked up from the stream, her wrinkled old face hardened into a look of stern countenance.
"Now, Galatai, don't make such awful sounds. We all warned you that raising a child isn't as easy as you would so wish it.”
More curious than defensive, the younger tauren tilted her head slightly toward the elder. The older doe’s gnarled old body seemed to creak under its own weight as she leaned forward, letting the water of the stream run past and over the kilt she held against its surface. The younger one smiled again. She had been doing so much of it lately, she wondered if she had forgotten how to do otherwise.
“Oh, no, Great Mother. Samhuinn, he is... He really is no trouble at all.”
“Really,” the older doe remarked. She snorted her skepticism loudly as she yanked the kilt out of the stream, handing it to her companion. “Samhuinn this, Samhuinn that. Well, I think it is an affront to our great and noble ancestors that you would name him such. Samhuinn is one of our most sacred of festivals - hand me the scrubbing salts, will you?” She extended an arm, waiting for the young mother to give her a handful before continuing. “Giving such an esteemed name to an outsider - well, you can very well see how it might give some of us pause, yes?”
“With blessings and respect for your great wisdom and insight, Great Mother,” the younger responded, her voice soft, “We have not celebrated Samhuinn since even before your time. I pray that the name gives him strength. Keltoi and I agree that he needs it.”
“Then you have welcomed a weak bull into our tribe, Galatai. Has the gift of motherhood blinded you so fiercely that you cannot see?”
“I see what is important, Great Mother,” the younger doe replied, mellow against the sharpness of the older female’s words. “I see a little calf who has suffered very much, a little calf whose only respite may come from love that no other will give him. And I see a blessing, a gift that Keltoi and I have been trying to create for many, many seasons.”
“And I see a chilly little creature who’ll not even look his elders in the eye. We’ve not heard him utter a single word of respect or gratitude for saving his miserable little life.” The elder did not look up from the stream as she spoke, furiously waving her clothing into and out of the water. “I would hold my tongue were he of your blood, Galatai, but make no mistake, he is not Greytail, neither in form nor in spirit. By the gods, Galatai, we do not even know from whence he came. What if he comes from one of those cannibal tribes, like the, kodo’s breath, what is it, the Lifeblood tribe. What if he is one of those terrible Blackhorns? Or Earthmother save you, what if he if he has the blood of the Grimtotem in him?"
The younger doe sighed once more. Her smile had lost some of its serenity, but it remained. "It matters no longer. He is my son, and I am Greytail with every beat of my heart, so he is Greytail too, no matter what he once was."
"Tch!" The elder sounded, shaking her head briskly. She nearly tossed the sopping clothing onto the younger tauren's lap and rose to her hooves. "Well, for your sake and the tribe's, I hope that you are right. We need no ill omens in a time such as this. Mark my words, Galatai, but you can only protect this one so much. He will need to prove himself to the tribe before he is a bull grown, and if really does he needs as much help as you're going to give him, he will grow up soft and weak. Honor of one's family depends upon one's bloodlines, Galatai... and if you have chosen this miserab... ... this calf as your progenitor, then young one, you had best raise him well."
The younger tauren did not respond quickly, so the Great Mother gathered up her clothing into her basket and stepped from the riverbank onto the grass, heading back for camp. The smile had been removed from the younger female's face, and she stared into the water rushing past her. She looked down for a long time.
189: Solitary
I walk behind you, always by your light, always within your shadow. You are always in my mind, whether it should be that I worry for your safety, that I await your presence come the fall of night, that I wonder what she is thinking as she looks at you on those nights I sit alone, with only the fire to keep me company.
I will never defy you; I could never defy you, no more than I could defy myself. I will smile and I will close my eyes, and I will not think of her wrapped into your chest and taking in your scent, I will not imagine the tips of her fingers along your scars, I will not imagine her tongue along yours. I will not imagine what she can give you that I do not. I will not ask where you were when you return, no matter if you smell as she does, no matter if your hair is disheveled and awry, no matter if I do not see you until the morning light.
I wonder if you know what you do to me. I wonder if you would change if you did. I cannot expect you to feel the same way I do. I cannot expect you to know the loneliness I feel on those nights I have been replaced, because you, my love, will never know loneliness. You have given me so much, you have offered me such sacrifice, it is not something I can do to judge you, to spite you, to disapprove of you and your ways when you spared me the very same vices. I pray that you do not think of me on those nights when you have taken another; I pray that you never know how much it hurts inside. Every bit of joy that surges within me is yours, and so I do not owe you my guilt.
Still, quietly, when you cannot listen, I wish upon the night that you could understand.
190: End
Ambershanks didn't like to close his eyes and recall the last months. He had drawn out all the terror and the anger and the sorrow that he could, and he feared that the only emotion left to sacrifice would be something integral, a key part of what sanity he still maintained. His home was a shambles, his family dead or worse, the world swiftly dribbling downhill into hell. There were only two things important left in the world, his life and his mate's. By the end of the night, he would lose one if not both.
The bite was deep. It would have proven a severe injury from an animal; from those things, those hideous false charades of friends and family, a bite was without doubt fatal. What few healing powers Samhuinn could muster through his gibbering delusions were proving paltry, and what vestiges of survival healing Ambershanks provided was ineffective. Maybe in a safe tent or a barracks, Ambershanks told himself, leaning down once more in a feeble attempt to suck free the venom from the wound in Samhuinn's thigh. Maybe with a priest or a paladin. Maybe if there were any safe tents or priests left. But Ambershanks as the hours had loomed into days and into weeks, he began to wonder, then consider, then believe that he and Samhuinn were the only living ones left.
It had been difficult, escaping from Thunder Bluff. The living had proven more deadly than the walking dead as the slow and the old were trampled under hooves, squished, tossed aside. Samhuinn swore he saw a young doe pushed over the brink of the higher bluffs. Only through Ambershanks's instruction did the two escape alive, using their cat forms to dart between legs and past the moaning caricatures of taurenfolk, trying to ignore the gut-wrenching screams of agony and chaos swarming around them.
There were a few survivors, Ambershanks and Samhuinn among them. They could reach nobody through their speaking stones, but a few of the other survivors were able to get in touch with their loved ones. Even last city was in pandemonium. Even the stalwart Forsaken could be turned. Even Arthas's forces were finding themselves being eaten from the inside out, their very own mindless Scourge susceptible to a greater chaos than the Lich King could muster. Each night communications grew thinner and thinner until at last there came no word from the world outside Mulgore.
It was thought that wide-open plains with abundant crops and hunting animals would have proven safe grounds for such slow-moving mindless droves. But one by one they fell. Some wandered too far out into the dark and found themselves surrounded by the things. Some had become unaccustomed to a wild life and passed away through the rigors of nature. But most of them just snapped. Small fights escalated over days or hours or minutes or seconds into bloodthirsty murders as the weight of all they had lost broke their spirits and shattered their sanity. Some screamed, some mumbled, some sang. But one by one the madness fell upon them.
Ambershanks took Samhuinn off before the makeshift tribe could massacre itself. For such a timid bull, Samhuinn had to his credit remained strong. He had cried, of course, in private, in Ambershanks's arms, but after that he had proven cautious, dedicated, and above all, he managed to keep a grasp on his internal sense of order when the rest of the world was spiraling into chaos. In a moment of exhaustion, Ambershanks exclaimed that Samhuinn would sometimes snap when all was well and yet keep it together when the world was hell. They fought that night. They had fought several times since the onset, sometimes coming to blows or, once, bites. But through it all they had come to trust one another and depend on one another in a way their civilized lives would not afford.
That was coming to an end now. The infection was spreading through Samhuinn's body. It had been for three days. That warm body he had come to depend on during the darkest nights was growing cold, like ice were being dispersed through his body. His breathing had stopped even as his heart still beat. He had begun to drool more, and snort, and sometimes his eyes opened and stared at Ambershanks, but they did not see.
Samhuinn had made a final request the night before, when he could still speak. Ambershanks had shaken his head and resolved with everything he was that he would not grant that request, that it was beyond him, that the request was like giving up and Ambershanks would not give up. He watched the younger tauren's gradual change into something he was not. And he realized that to honor his mate and to give him any chance at peace beyond, it was what he had to do.
He lifted his hammer.
Wham. Wham. Wham.
He wondered which of them it hurt more.
Wham. Wham. Wham.
He could have been quieter, but he did not care. He did not care if all the stupid drooling monstrous damnable things in the entire plain converged on him now. Maybe he would have welcomed it, as long as first they would let him stop Samhuinn. There would be time for crying afterward. No, no, maybe there wouldn't be. Maybe it wouldn't make a difference.
Wham. Wham. Wham.
There was no good or bad or right or wrong anymore. There was no civil or savage or just or unfair anymore, there was only necessity. There was doing what had to be done, and this had to be done. He had to, he had to, he had to.
Wham. Wham.
The red hammer fell to earth.
~Sam))