The misbegotten adventure had started two days earlier in the totemic village of Sun Rock Retreat, high in the Stonetalon Mountains. Though they bordered the sweltering Barrens, the forested peaks could get bitterly cold in winter. Kazlin and his companions – the trolls Bendi and Tashtego – huddled around their campfire after an evening meal of roasted hare and sweet cornmeal cakes. A bone-chilling breeze swirled the smoke from Tashtego's tobacco spliff and sent it in the direction of the others.

"How can yah smoke that garbage," Kazlin asked, waving a gloved hand in front of his face. "Yah know tha pink-skins poison that stuff when they grows it?"

"Mahbe dat what mah likes 'bout it," replied Tashtego, his deep voice thickly accented. "Ah likkle baderation nevah killed nobadi, baas. Anywhey, dis be ah cel'bration, nah? Ours put ah hurtin' on dem patu harpies."

Kazlin nodded in the affirmative, but unlike his friend, he didn't take pleasure in knowing they had slain the band of harpies encroaching on Sun Rock. To his mind, every creature deserved a home, even the territorial she-birds – just not here, where innocent hill folk were being harmed. Kazlin couldn't help but consider the plight of his own people, the Darkspear, who had been driven from their ancestral lands in Stranglethorn Vale.

"Nobody can understand a word you're saying… mon," Bendi teased, filling the void left by Kazlin's silence. Born and raised in Sen'jin Village, she was the only one of the group to speak their native tongue without a foreigner's brogue. She tossed her plate at Tashtego's feet. "Why not make yourself useful and go clean up this mess? You uncouth layabout."

Tashtego looked at Bendi in mock insult. "Mah killed dat raabbit yah jus' et," he countered. "An' anyway, washin' de dutchy be woman's work."

Bendi said nothing, instead shooting the troll warrior a fierce glare that prompted him to gather the cooking kit and amble over to the pond near the center of the village, mumbling under his breath as he went.

"Forever tha gruff one," said Kazlin, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Yes," agreed Bendi. "Arrogant as a peacock and stubborn as a mule. Someday, he will get us in trouble for sure."

"I was talkin' about yahself," said Kazlin, now smiling.

Bendi blushed, then laughed. She stood and moved closer to where Kazlin sat, the firelight playing on his tusked face. He was fiddling with a small bone fife, as if preparing to play it. "You wouldn't have it any other way," she said, sitting down and placing her hand gently on his. "Finally, some time alone. Do not ruin it with that noise."

The hunter half-heartedly recoiled from the mage's touch. "Bendi, we talked about this," he said, sighing. "I answerin' ta tha call of tha wild. I not tha settlin' down type. Yah needs tah find a troll that yah can…"

Bendi cut him off, "… grow old with. Yes, yes, I know. And where am I supposed to find this just-what-the-witchdoctor-ordered troll when we're always running around in the woods playing hero?" she asked, hotly. "We are not kids playing soldier anymore, Kazlin." Then, more calmly, she said, "Maybe I think that what you want most in this world is a home, a family, and a love to share it with. You're just too afraid to do anything about it."

Kazlin turned to Bendi and opened his mouth to reply. Just then, Tashtego strode back into the firelight, a proud grin stretched from ear to ear. "Dis troll be findin' ours anodda quest," he said excitedly. "Dis one fo' pans o' riches. No mo' chasin birds an' spidahs. We be slayin' de elfs… an' somebadi called de Cenarion."