Chapter 1

The forest smells sweet and clean: a natural aroma that could out do any human perfume. The soft grass massages my aching hooves with each step. Above me, the trees stretch forward to shield me from the sun, but allow just enough to peek through and bake my fur in comfort. I am a shaman: the spirits are my power, and nature herself is a spirit.

A spirit, with a soft and sweet voice, whispers in my ear, and she is sad. She tells me I must continue with my mission. Then can I return to the trees and stay a while. I reply with a sad tone: "I know."

I walk until again she whispers in my ear. This time it isn't motivation, but fear. She tells me one of her children is in danger: the rancid goblins that destroy the land attacked her. She begs me to help. "A Night Elf?" I question. "I can't help a Night Elf. She will attack me on sight."

"You're a Gray-walker," she counters. "You take no sides in war. Please, you have to help her."

I grunt as I continue walking.

"Why would you help her when she's dead, but not when you could save her life?" she demands.

I could respond that dead, they bare me no harm, but instead set out to help her child.

I find the Night Elf easy enough: young, weak, vulnerable; in the chaos of a mighty battle. She fights with everything she has, every strength she can summon, yet can barely lift her dagger. The goblins, armed with swords, hammers and guns, slowly approach their victim. They used superior numbers to defeat there better, I was sure of this. "Please," he whispers in my ear. "Help my child."

My hand begins to stir as magical cackling energy cascades around it. This is a difficult spell, and I beg my ancestors to lend me their strength. The goblins continue their approach of the wounded elf, any moment they'll get bored with torture and take her life. I lift my hand as a beam of lightning rips out of my palm and lashes into the goblin. The pure energy then jumps to the next and the next, slowly. The goblins never know what hit them and I watch as their confused souls leave their shells and evaporate into the air. With out one to sustain them, they must leave for the next realm.

The spell took away much of my energy, and so I approach the elf with the aid of my staff. However, she who has been taught to hate Tauren from the time of her birth: lunges at me before I can talk. "Stinking beast," she screams as I side step her assault. She is wounded and confused and, while strong, her blows are slow and sloppy. "Come to kill me have you cow? I'll kill you first." She charges me, but I thrust out my staff and knock out her knee. She tumbles to the ground and I am upon her before she can recover. Pinning her beneath my superior weight, I speak in her tongue. "Do you want to die?"

Her eyes show burning hatred, her lips don't move.

I push my hoof harder into her chest. For the briefest of moments, I allow all 800 pounds of muscle to weigh on her. She gasps suddenly in pain, and I return to merely pinning her. "Do you want to die?" I demand again. "You're a druid, no? You defend nature's body, I protect her soul. I would hate to kill you when we have such similar goals."

The Night Elf whimpers out: "No. No I don't want to die."

"Very well," I smile. I call upon the spirits once more to lend me their strength, and push their healing energies into the elf's chest. She cringes, expecting pain, but instead find a healthy feeling filling her body. She looks up at me with eye's wide with amazement as I swing my staff down onto her head, knocking her out cold.

I lift the Night Elf over my shoulder. It isn't hard for she is light and I am strong. Using my staff for support, I set out for a cave she tells me of. There I can sleep and watch over her child with ease.