In a green glen in the forest by the riverside Ba'ka was breathing new life in the embers of last night's campfire. The flames had warmed them after the cold swim, and now they were feeling ready to take on whatever life would throw at them.

Jah'ren was watching Za'rhin as he stretched, trying to awaken stiff limbs after the exhausted sleep they all had experienced at night.

"Ah wanna fight yah," the young hunter suddenly exclaimed, springing to his feet.

The older troll looked at him with an amused smile on his lips before he pulled a leathercord from his pocket and started tying his waistlong braids and dreads into a tail at his neck.

"Sure," Za'rhin grinned, exchanging a smile with Ba'ka.

The priest laughed silently as he watched his young friend attack with all the reckless vigour of youth. Jah'ren was fast, but his random punches and kicks still did not even touch the opponent.

Za'rhin was dodging, legs and arms swirling, almost like he was dancing. At one time he leapt backwards, landing on one hand, and spun back onto his feet. He moved like he was dancing to some primal rhythm from somewhere inside. Watching him made Ba'ka smile; this was old Zandali fighting, he imagined he could feel the presence of their ancestors in the warrior's every movement.

In the end Jah'ren stopped to catch his breath and growled frustrated.

"Will yah teach me dat?" he asked as the bluehaired troll patted his shoulder comfortingly.

"Ah will. An' den yah be true Zandali."

*

Za'rhin spent two months in the others' company, and he used the time well. Every day at dawn he and Jah'ren started their training, and the warrior did not let the young hunter's complains about tired muscles and sore spots bother him. He was a merciless trainer and made it clear that complaints only led to him attacking faster and his hits getting harder.

Ba'ka spent his time fishing in the lake they had camped by and smiled relieved each time he reminded himself that he was happy to be a spellcaster.

"Why yah not be trainin' with us?" Jah'ren asked him sulkily.

"Before mah enemy get close to me, Jah'ren, dey have runned around in fear, been wounded by mah spells and when dey come close dey will find mah shield up an' dat Ah know how to handle a long staff."

Jah'ren sighed by this answer and leaned forward towards his adopted older brother, whispering:

"Ah wish Ah was a priest too. Dat crazy warrior is gonna kill me. Ah be blue all over!"

Ba'ka was just about to point out that his friend actually had been blue all over since birth, but he never got further than opening his mouth before Za'rhin grabbed the hunter by the arm and dragged him back into training.

*

One evening after they had eaten their dinner the three friends sat around the fire thinking about the past and all they had left behind.

"How is dat crazy wo'man of yours?" Za'rhin asked the priest, who almost chocked on a piece of the black root he was chewing.

"She be good. She be good," Ba'ka hurried to say. "But she no be mah wo'man."

Jah'ren and Za'rhin exchanged a look and the hunter rolled his eyes and grinned.

"Ba'ka is too dumb," he told the warrior. "He neva tell mah sista he love her, an' now she have gone to be trained in Orgrimmar. An' Ah hear dat rogue-trainer is a very charmin' troll."

Speaking of his family always made Jah'ren homesick and he stared into the flames of the campfire, trying to imagine his sister's red braids and kind face. He smiled at the memory of Hetar and Ba'ka saying goodbye when she had left.

"So... Ah be seein' yah around den," Ba'ka had said, not thinking for a moment that the tears in Hetar's eyes had been for him more than for the her brother.

They had grown up like siblings, Jah'ren, Ba'ka and Hetar, plus some of the whelps from the Fogo Juba clan. But at some point it had dawned on the priest that the adoration and love he held for the redhaired rogue was much stronger than the love between brother and sister. He had just never gotten as far as telling her that holding her hand made his heart beat more than any wardrum.

In silent remembrance the three trolls sat, each chewing on a piece of the black root that Za'rhin was so good at finding. In the end Jah'ren could not be still any longer. He jumped to his feet and threw a tuft of grass in the bluehaired warrior's face.

"Time for trainin'!" he shouted, and grinned when Za'rhin answered to the challenge by grabbing a long stick they used for a training-spear.

Ba'ka watched them twist and twirl with a sad smile on his lips. He was thinking of a couple of kind eyes and slim lips around small tusks. Therefore he was much surprised when suddenly Za'rhin crashed into his back. The warrior gasped slightly and shook his head to stop the ringing from the heavy blow he had received.

"Very good, Tata Parnko," Za'rhin grinned. "Very good. Let me see if yah can do dat again."

*

The next morning they broke camp and rode together for a good while until they reached a fork in the road that would lead the two Darkspears homewards and the Ocean-blood towards his next battle.

"Keep yah head on yah shoulders, Jah'ren," the warrior laughed, squeezing the young hunter's hand.

Then he turned to Ba'ka with eyes shining from laughter.

"An' yah, mah old friend, yah must tell her an' make her yours."

The priest smiled at this and grabbed the hand that was offered him.

"Ah will be pleased to see yah again, Za. Until then Ah'll pray to the Loa for yah."

Za'rhin turned away from them, blue dreads and braids dancing around his shoulders and hurried down the road before they noticed the sorrow in his eyes. After some meters he stopped.

"Ba'ka!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Ah neva did thank yah for helpin' with dat giant shark!"

As he walked on he could hear the excited voice of Jah'ren from behind:

"Tell me! Yah really did? Ba'ka! Tell me!"

****

Not the best chapter. I know. But there's somthing brewing. Just go read the next one...

And thanks for reading! Za'rhin has promised to come train anyone who doesn't ^^