A/N: Sorry it's taken such a long time to update this, but life got pretty hectic around the holidays, not to mention the fact that I had a stint in hospital. However, this is a new year and I have resolved to dedicate myself to my writing. Huzzah! As always, please read and review constructively.
Malia woke early the next morning, her senses pinging a warning. From beneath a nearby tree came the sound of snoring. Maru had been too exhausted the previous evening when she'd called a halt, so she'd sat up and watched until the sun had begun to lighten the eastern sky. It was now nearly noon, and the old shaman lay still in the humid air, not opening her eyes as she let the sounds of the jungle wash over her. The insects she associated with her early years living in the shadows of Zul'Gurub had gone silent, and she sharpened her ears, trying to hear over the hammering of her heart. Yes, there it was again, a slight rustling in the bushes off to her left.
Reaching out a gnarled hand, she grasped the staff she had carried from the day she had mastered the elemental ways of the shaman. Muttering ancient words passed down from mother to daughter, father to son, for time eternal, she sent a burst of light high into the sky. Fifty feet above the treetops it exploded in a shower of sparks, thunder rolling as it faded. Maru leapt to his feet, grasping at his sword hilt as he looked around, eyes wild with fright. "What the hell was that?" he asked.
Malia held a finger to her lips as she slipped into the brush where the noise had originated. She saw a huge pile of scat and wrinkled her noise; it was very fresh. Maru poked his head in to see what she was about and she motioned him back to the camp ahead of her. "Shadowmaw or tiger," she told him as they broke out into the hot morning sun. "Not that it matters now, but a few more minutes, and we might have ended up like Talon and Hellas."
Maru looked around fearfully. "Do you think we're safe now?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
"From animals, yes," Malia replied as she began smoothing out her thin blanket. Folding it over lengthwise, she rolled it tight and stuffed it into her pack. "But we'd better get out of here before the humans or trolls can mobilize. They both have encampments a few miles north and that thunder burst is likely to attract a patrol or two."
"Won't we be safe from the trolls?" Maru looked at her in confusion although he didn't hesitate to match her actions, shoving the few things he'd dragged out last night into a pack before tossing it onto the travois.
"No, we're not," she said shortly. "If anything, we'd be better off being discovered by the humans."
Maru gaped at her. "Why?" he managed to ask. "Aren't these your people?"
"I don't have time to go into it, Maru," she snapped, surveying the clearing to be certain that they'd left as little trace as possible. The last thing she wanted was to have to dodge a hunting party. "Now, let's get moving!"
He gave her a rebellious glare, but picked up the handles of the travois, and they set off, traveling in the same northeast direction as yesterday. There was no talking as they made their way through the heavy brush. Malia was lost in thought, and Maru needed every breath in order to keep putting one foot in front of the other. His hands had begun to blister, but one look at the old shaman's face, and he bit back any complaint.
The sun climbed higher and the undergrowth began to thin. Maru was sweating heavily and he groaned in relief when Malia called a halt three hours after the golden orb had begun to slide down the western sky. He sank to the ground, too tired to thank her, watching through half-closed eyes as she bent to scrabble in the dirt. She grunted with satisfaction as she let a handful slip through her fingers. Rubbing her hands on her skirt, she dripped a little of their precious on her fingers, washing away the muck.
"We should reach the river by early evening," she said, reaching into her pack for some of the travel biscuit. She broke off a fair-sized portion and handed it to Maru before taking a much smaller piece for herself. It had begun to crumble in the heat and she moistened hers with a bit of wine from a flask at her hip, afraid that she would be unable to choke it down. Maru had no such issue; a couple of quick chews and his vanished as quickly as a monkey skinning up a tree.
Malia only allowed him ten minutes of rest. "Come on Maru, our route becomes easier once we cross the river." He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt, but Malia's sharp eyes caught his grimace of pain as he took up the handles of the travois once more. "Let me see your hands," she demanded, hissing with pity as she saw the raw flesh. "You should have said something, Maru."
Shaking her head at his stubbornness, she reached into her pack, drawing out a roll of linen bandages. "Hold still," she said as she unstoppered the flask once again and began washing out the cuts with wine. He yelped, but she held his hands firmly and the pain soon faded. Malia wrapped his hands tightly and stowed her things back in her pack. Maru took the handles again, sighing with relief as the linen cushioned his wounded hands. "Don't do that again, Maru," she said as they began moving again, this time due east. "There's no reason for you to hurt yourself, especially not on my account."
"Yes, Malia," he said meekly. "Hopefully there won't be a next time!"
"Aye," she replied. "I couldn't agree more."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
They reached the river just as dusk began the slow journey into night and Maru lifted his face, letting the cool breeze washed over him. They paused to catch their breath, looking north and south as they regained their wind. Malia had pushed them hard in the last hour and the sun slipped behind the tall trees as the young Tauren and old Troll stood gazing across the sluggish stream.
"Ha, we made it!" Maru exclaimed, fighting the urge to jump and down on the soft, white sand. Eyes shining, he turned to look at Malia, whose face had broken into an uncharacteristic grin. It faded after a moment as a howl rose from the jungle behind them.
"Come on, Maru," she said, "we've got to get out of here. The river narrows a bit further north and we must get across while there is still light."
"Why?" Maru asked. "And what is that noise?"
"Look," Malia said, pointing at a dead log lying half submerged a hundred yards to the south.
"It's a log, so what?" Just then, a great swirl and a splash obscured the log and when the water had settled, it had vanished. Maru turned to the old shaman, his face pale. "W-what was th-that?" he spluttered.
"A crocolisk," she replied, "and a big one. Those things will drag you under and drown you without a warning. I'd rather see what's after me, wouldn't you?" He nodded, his face pale, and she began moving north at a brisk pace.
"You never did tell me what that noise was," he panted as he walked, nearly running to keep up with her long strides. "What manner of creature was that?"
"It's a hound, one of the brutes that are bred by the elves to hunt for food." She gave him a mirthless smile. "In times past, those Darnassian beasts took pleasure in turning them loose on those of my people that were captured in the little skirmishes of the Plaguelands." She turned to him and he saw tears glimmering in her eyes. "My mother and little sister were killed by an elven raiding party, many years ago. Come, we must reach our goal, and soon."
In a few minutes, they had reached the ford. This time of the year, the water was low and Malia watched intently as Maru sprinted across the narrows. Her staff held high, she jogged across and soon they were swallowed by the jungle. Dusk had finally faded to full dark when several heavily armed Trolls stepped out of the wood.
"What do you think, Mar'jin?" One of the handlers approached the heavily muscled troll who had been leading the group since their landing at Tkashi this morning. "Do we follow?"
"Yes," he growled in the unfamiliar tongue of the blood elf. "We must see that she never reaches Bambala. If she does, we may all perish in the coming onslaught of Sylvannas and her ilk. Now, gather the men and go. I will catch you up in an hour or do." The elf turned to go, but the Troll gripped his elbow hard enough to make him gasp with pain. "Do not fail me, elf," he snarled. "The Lich King wants her in one piece. The same cannot be said for you."
Rubbing his arm in an attempt to restore circulation, the elf bowed. Hurrying back to his men, he gave a series of sharp orders and Mar'jin stood impassive as the troop vanished into the darkness. When the sound of their passing had faded, he climbed a nearby outcropping of rock, cursing as he slipped and slid on the thick jungle vegetation.
Lake Nazferiti stretched like a pool of molten silver in the moonlight and he could see snapjaw jumping at the insects that seemed to be everywhere in this cursed place. He longed for the woods and mountains of his homeland far to the north, and he felt a brief pang of sorrow for the thought that he might never see his beloved Gun'drak again. "Sentimental fool," he muttered to himself as he made his way carefully down to the jungle floor. He could not afford a broken leg now or he would die here as surely as the sun rose in the west. "Save that twaddle for the young." Still muttering, he vanished into the brush, heading north.