(( If U'thel seems somewhat ooc, I apologize - he's been developing quite a bit off-scenes, so to speak, and in roleplays I've been doing with some friends! I tried to go a bit more into his... issues? As a character? From Vol'jin's perspective of course. I'm so tired and just glad this chapter is finally done LMAO.

The full quote I used for Ch 8 and 9 is "Keep your fears to yourself, but share your courage with others" - Robert Louis Stevenson. This chapter title is also TOO LONG to fit into FF's chapter section so I am using a shortened version. ))


Chapter 9: But share your courage with others

U'thel stalked the shores. He tore demons asunder with his bear hands - no metamorphosis, nothing but pure rage.

He couldn't handle being looked at in concern; he wasn't used to it. He hadn't anticipated that this other troll, this Vol, this nobody would be so quick to learn what U'thel feared the most.

Damn him and his desire to fish!

The demon hunter only calmed when he recalled that he didn't have to explain his fear. He didn't have to rip open his chest and reveal the pounding sinew underneath. It had barely been a week. Two more days and it would equal just that.

U'thel stopped his stalking, fel blood dripping off his sharp claws; little rivulets oozed down his arms. Some of the demons had managed to fight back with equal vigor, tearing cuts into his flesh. He ignored the sting, glaring instead at a pair of lightning footprints.

Apparently Shango had taken a liking to him.

"Fuck off," U'thel snarled, turning on his heel; as before, the crackling footsteps followed after him. The demon hunter growled low, "oh, so now you be takin' an interest? Now dat I bring back dis husk o' a man, an' you decide ya not gonna' leave me alone?"

The footsteps fell into a deathly silence. Disturbed, U'thel looked over his shoulder. The footsteps were still there, but now a simple blue outline. U'thel's fingers twitched. His expression was soured by regret - for what, he wasn't sure.

And he hated how the return of the crackle brought him comfort.

Hurriedly he made his way back to the grove. Shango followed, and at one point, U'thel felt a sliver of lightning trace down his spine. He caught sight of it snaking down his arm, illuminating his veins, and for a brief moment he was in awe.

U'thel shook the wonder away, scowling at the rocks. He opted to say nothing to the Loa now, and when he finally reached his grove, Shango departed. The demon hunter skirted around Vol's sleeping form, teeth bared in bitterness. He huddled in the furthest corner he could, his angry gaze fixed on the other troll until sleep took him.


Vol'jin woke with a start.

"Git up, sleepin' beauty," U'thel growled. Vol'jin's eyes tightened, but he pushed himself up on his arms anyway. The demon hunter must have kicked him in the side, if the ache in his ribs was anything to go by.

He met U'thel's furious gaze with one of confusion - but then, the shadow hunter understood. Even in the darkness, he could make out the faint outline of a relatively simple glaive in U'thel's right hand; his pulsating tattoos illuminated at least that much.

Tentatively Vol'jin got to his feet. U'thel held the glaive out to him. This must have been the one he had mentioned previously.

"We gonna' start. I train in de dark early mornin', dat much should be obvious," U'thel hissed, before turning to stalk off into the dark. Vol'jin followed as best he could, keeping his right hand slightly ahead of himself. The splotchy vision from his right eye still brought about a fury in him.

His ears picked up on the sound of clinking metal, and he hesitated. More of U'thel was illuminated now. He was wearing his armor, and his glaives were especially impressive in their brightness. He pointed at Vol'jin with one, "de only ting of you I be seein' are dose damn eyes. We gonna' start slow, bu' you betta' believe dat I have high ass expectations, shadow huntah. You should already be familiah wit a glaive. Mebbe not ones de size I have - not yet, anyway - bu' one dat size? Should be easy fah you."

Vol'jin felt his fingers twitch in nervousness - and over what? The fact that he was starting again? That U'thel had high expectations?

In the end, Vol'jin knew it didn't matter. He didn't know where U'thel's fury came from this time, and it was most probable that he would never know. Without saying anything in response to U'thel, Vol'jin tested the reach of his temporary weapon. U'thel moved, and seconds later Vol'jin's glaive was ticked by U'thel's.

Vol'jin felt his wrist bend back. Even a blow as light as that, and U'thel was capable of that - certainly, Vol'jin wasn't making an effort to hold his arm steady at the moment, but anyone who took U'thel for granted would very quickly lose an arm. The shadow hunter passed the glaive between both of his hands. U'thel patiently waited.

The weapon was larger than what Vol'jin was used to. As he ran a hand along the blade, he found it to have been put to good use. Its edges were dulled, and marred by nicks and breaks.

"I wondah," Vol'jin mused, spinning the blade in his hand before letting it come to rest at his side, "how you gonna' make sure I don' be messing up, hm?"

"I be havin' ears, Vol'ji," U'thel replied, obviously gesturing to the appendage in question, "I'll hear anytin' ya do wrong. I be knowin' exactly how dese shitty tings should sound when dey cut through de air. I didn' spend five years in Outland bidin' my time. I know dis shit like de back of my fuckin' hand."

Vol'jin dipped his head in the most obvious nod he could manage, then delivered an upward slash with the glaive. His blow was swiftly deflected, and this time, he stiffened his arm. There was strength in his own grip despite the weakness in his muscles.

U'thel remained just out of cutting range, which made it easy for him to parry Vol'jin's attempts, and left Vol'jin with little worry that he would accidentally harm his teacher. That wasn't the point of the exercise.

He cut down diagonally, listening to the way the glaive whistled. Intrigued, he swept his arm up; U'thel leaned back, eyes following the glaive as it went. The sound had been different. It had been less.

"Makes a difference if dere be wind," U'thel said, his eyes fixed back on Vol'jin. Again, Vol'jin nodded his head.

"When dere's more light, you need to be showing me how de demon hunter moves," Vol'jin mused, continuing his practice blows. The weight of the glaive was becoming easier to manage now, "because dere be two glaives, not one."

The red grin on U'thel's face seemed to broaden, and Vol'jin barely managed to block an overhand blow from the demon hunter; then he threw himself to the side, because while he hadn't seen U'thel's arm move, the other man's blades were so sharp he could almost feel the air part against them. Vol'jin barely managed to stay on his feet as he stumbled in the darkness.

Quickly he pivoted to face U'thel again, breathing as evenly as he could through his nose to keep oxygen flowing to his already aching muscles.

"You de quick learnin' type eh, Vol'ji," U'thel said. He didn't move from his spot. Vol'jin remained tense, gripping the glaive with both hands now. U'thel pointed at him with one of his glaives, "is dat a shadow huntah ting? Ta hold de glaive wit bot' hands?"

Vol'jin hesitated. U'thel surged forward, his stance low. Vol'jin blocked his first blow, and managed to twirl his glaive in a half-circle to parry the other as U'thel brought himself up and around in a circle. He slashed down; Vol'jin switched the glaive to his left hand, and part of it hooked on U'thel's. It took great effort for Vol'jin to hold his stance, and the muscles in his left arm protested said effort.

He growled. U'thel snarled.

The demon hunter dropped, snapping out his leg. He swept Vol'jin's feet out from under him, and the shadow hunter hit the ground with a loud thud, taking the brunt of the impact to his right shoulder. He closed his eyes tightly in pain before forcing them back open.

U'thel kicked him sharply in the left shoulder, forcing Vol'jin onto his back, then set his foot heavily against the shadow hunter's chest.

"Focus, Vol'ji," U'thel said, his voice low. The sun cracked past the horizon, barely illuminating U'thel's form where his pulsing tattoos did not, "don't get distracted by anything I say. You should know better than that. And demons? Demons like to talk. As much as you can use that against them," he pressed the tip of his glaive to Vol'jin's throat, reminding the shadow hunter of his encounter with Bwonsamdi, "they can use it against you."

"I understand," Vol'jin replied. U'thel seemed satisfied, and lifted his foot off Vol'jin's chest.

"Good," he hissed, balancing both glaives against his shoulders and slipping back into Orcish, "you be keepin' practicin' den. Ya need some more time ta be gettin' use ta dat glaive, particularly its weight. I'll be seein' if I can't find anothah' one. I had two old ones at some point; one o' dem broke," he shrugged, looking over his shoulder at Vol'jin as he turned, "ya body still be weak, bu' ya be doin' bettah den I be tinkin'. Ya bettah git as much rest as possible."

Vol'jin sat up, letting one arm drape over his leg as U'thel walked away.

"Ya gonna' need wateva' strengt' you can mustah ta train wit me."

The red-haired troll sighed. He spent a few minutes listening to the nature around him. Seagulls above. Sea lions in the distance. The happy chirps of smaller birds.

The area was full of life despite the demonic presence.

It made Vol'jin wonder: if the animals of Azeroth showed no concern with the efforts of the Burning Legion, then why did he? Why did any of the races? Perhaps Azeroth's creatures knew that they were well taken care of. He ran his palm over the blades of grass, letting them tickle his skin. What a difference it might make in his own life to have that much faith - even just faith in himself.

He would do what U'thel said. Rest. Stretch. Test the weight of the glaive, strengthen his grip.

Meditating came to Vol'jin the quickest. It was no different from the time he spent doing a similar task in Pandaria. It developed into second nature by the time the week had passed. He continued to fish despite U'thel's clear distaste for his fishing, and Vol'jin did it under the premise that it helped to strengthen his arms. Wrestling with any sharks that caught his line was the real reason behind his ventures. He'd already developed a habit of releasing the large fish after bringing them in, keeping the smaller ones for meals.

By the middle of the second week since he'd been revived, he was able to keep up with U'thel's pace. He learned how to sweep around in a circle, cutting up with the glaive, then down. It was a different motion from what he was used to, but similar enough to pick it up rather easily.

U'thel seemed… pleased, to say the least.

But he also seemed lethargic, and pale.

Has he always been this thin?

Funny how the shadow hunter hadn't noticed it before. U'thel's skin stretched tight over muscle and bone - though the light fur he had growing from certain points on his body did a decent job at hiding the fact that his bones were visible under his skin.

A piece of fish hit Vol'jin square in the forehead. He closed his eyes on reflex, pressing his lips together in annoyance.

"De fuck you starin' at, eh?"

Vol'jin pulled the fish away from his face before opening his eyes to give U'thel an unimpressed look - though really, he used the expression as an excuse to study U'thel's features again. The demon hunter was guarded. His eyes were fuller with bottled up fury, as if he were a lit stick of dynamite that would explode if Vol'jin wasn't careful with his words.

He tossed the fish back at U'thel, noting how U'thel straightened with distaste, though he caught the meat anyway. Vol'jin furrowed his brows. He sighed, playing off answering U'thel's question, and turned his head to the left, leaving his mostly blind eye to 'look' at U'thel.

A sizzling sound reached Vol'jin's ears. It made sense, now, why he often heard that sound whenever he turned his head to the left.

U'thel was discarding food in the fire. Which obviously meant he wasn't eating.

Vol'jin turned his head back to his 'superior', "do you tink I be stupid?"

U'thel jolted, his expression shifting to one of mild surprise before he masked it once again with a glare, "wat?"

"You keep t'rowing tings in de fiah," Vol'jin said flatly, pointing at the flickering flames, "I may be blind in dis eye, mon, but I don' be deaf. Mebbe it be taking me awhile ta put two an' two togeddah. You don' be eating right."

There was a twitch in U'thel's eye.

"I be eatin' jus' fuckin' fine, Vol'ji."

And there was the defensive tone - and now, the defensive posture. U'thel lowered his head. He glowered at Vol'jin from under his brows. Vol'jin narrowed his eyes.

A roasted seagull thudded against the ground at the mouth of the grove, still steaming after being struck by a bolt of lightning.

U'thel snarled in distaste, lurched to his feet, and disappeared into the tent. Vol'jin closed his eyes, sighing through his nose.

"I be knowing ya be wanting ta help," he muttered when there was a familiar crackling sound nearby, "but you be making tings a lil' more difficult fah me wit dat stunt, Shango."

The crackling intensified, then died, and Vol'jin opened his eyes. He could hear U'thel muttering angrily to himself. A soft huff escaped Vol'jin.

How does he manage to function so well when he's been eating so little?

The thought swirled around in Vol'jin's mind with nagging insistence - but given U'thel's previous reaction to Vol'jin expressing concern, the shadow hunter was forced to reconsider his options. He didn't want to inadvertently chase U'thel out of the grove again - after all, the two were trying to keep themselves hidden from the Legion. If the demon hunter went on too many killing sprees in such quick succession, the demons may grow to realize that they were not as alone on the Broken Shore as they thought. They may begin to actively look for the source of the massacres, instead of stubbornly believing it to be soldiers from Dalaran.

Vol'jin's thoughts were brought once again back to U'thel's eating habits - or rather, lack thereof. He eyed the bird that Shango had struck - and in a similar manner, was struck by a realization. Perhaps U'thel only consumed food when it was required for him to complete a task. He would have needed to eat in order to have the strength to reform Vol'jin's body from quite literally nothing.

It was the most logical conclusion Vol'jin could come to without overstepping his bounds and pushing U'thel into what would clearly be an uncomfortable discussion. After a moment longer of staring into the fire, Vol'jin stood and approached the tent.

He was about to speak when soft, even breaths reached his ears.

U'thel had fallen asleep.

Vol'jin's eyes tightened. Instead of going into the tent and rousing the younger troll, Vol'jin moved away. His gaze flicked to the entrance to the grove.

A short walk would do Vol'jin some good. He left after securing the old glaive to his back - though he hesitated a foot outside the grove. Vol'jin cast a tentative glance over his shoulder, in the direction of the tent.

No.

He didn't want to wake U'thel up.

Vol'jin first wandered to the edge he was familiar with. It was the area behind the grove, where the shadow hunter often fished. He walked along the ledge, watching the water break against rock, then against sand as rocky shallows gave way to a beach. He watched the seagulls. Saw the silhouettes of sharks. He stayed there for several minutes, enjoying the sea breeze and the warm sun.

Then, he meandered in a direction he had seen U'thel go off in. There was an almost hidden pathway that led down to darkly colored rocks. Curious, Vol'jin cautiously made his way down. Nagging whisperings started churning in his mind, a mix of demonic phrases he couldn't yet understand, and urges to turn back.

He hesitated at the opening of the path, resting one of his hands against the cold stone. It was as if someone had carved out the pathway, and done it at such an angle that when Vol'jin stepped down onto the wider path and turned around, he could hardly find where he had come down from.

Vol'jin winced, raising a hand to his bad eye. It had started throbbing, and the demonic whisperings grew louder. A shrill scream caused Vol'jin to jolt, and he staggered back toward the dark rocks that made up the wall of the wide path. The scream had come from within his mind.

Go back, go back, go back.

Again, the demonic whisperings swelled and drowned out what Vol'jin could only acknowledge as a voice of reason. Still pressing his hand to his right eye, Vol'jin felt along the stone, hoping to find the path back to the grove.

Go back, go back, go back!

Fingers curled around a corner, and just as he was about to turn onto what he believed to be the narrow pathway he'd come down, he was once again jolted by another shrill scream.

Hide!

Alarmed, Vol'jin shoved away from the stone wall. He could hear claws digging into dirt. He turned to his right, dropping his left hand away from his eye; he sprinted up the path, looked both ways, and dove behind a large rock to his left.

Too late, it seemed.

A felhound came snarling into view, and Vol'jin lurched around the rock. It must have caught his scent.

Easily dealt with, at least. He anticipated it would come from his left, and when it skidded around the corner, he grabbed it by the tendrils protruding from its back. It howled, then was reduced to bloody gurgles when he ripped off its lower jaw. He slammed its skull forcefully into the rock, crushing it under his palm.

The second felhound came from his right; Vol'jin vaguely registered that it had slashed his ribs before he could get a hold of it. This time he tore the head off, gritting his teeth in a soundless snarl.

He threw the head at something that came up on his left - a shriek of surprise met his ears, and then he loped the body at them too. A loud clang made Vol'jin's ears ring, but he counted it a blessing that the felguard had misjudged his strike. With the axe momentarily stuck in the rock, Vol'jin yanked the glaive out of its sheathe, and drove it into the felguard's side.

With a roar, the demon released his axe and grabbed Vol'jin around the neck. Vol'jin drove up with his glaive, cutting into the felguard's chest and nearly severing the arm entirely. The demon stumbled and Vol'jin lurched away from the rock, intending to go back to the dirt road and find the hidden pathway - he found himself biting back a scream of pain when burning hot flames seared his spine.

He turned, fel eyes wild. He'd nearly forgotten about the Eredar. She seemed afraid when he turned to face her.

"... no…. No! A demon hunter?! Here!? No- but vou are a troll!"

How grateful Vol'jin was that she had decided to sputter in Common.

He had to silence her, before she ran off to the Legion's main base of operations to inform them of his presence.

The glaive whistled as he threw it, with perfect accuracy, right at her head. The blade drove into her face, right between her eyes, and the force of the blow sent her back, her legs whipping into the air as she hit the ground with a sickening thud.

Music to Vol'jin's ears, really.

Behind him, the felguard roared, and Vol'jin quickly threw himself forward and to the ground, narrowly dodging a downward swing from the demon. He rolled toward the downed Eredar, and ripped the glaive free of her skull just in time to follow through with the action to block the felguard's fist.

Vol'jin's body protested against his actions.

He had no choice but to run-

"Tell the others!" the felguard barked. Of course. The felhound's howl would have alerted any other demons that something was amiss.

Shit, shit, shit.

Vol'jin feigned to go to the right of the rock, then lurched to the left. The felguard that he'd cut slammed hard into the ground after diving to grab Vol'jin. The shadow hunter slipped around what he assumed was a wrathguard, and grabbed the Eredar with him by the tail, jerking the red skinned Draenei back. With what strength he could muster, Vol'jin threw him into the rock he'd tried to hide behind.

It cost him.

The wrathguard swung down with his sword, alight with fel fire, and though Vol'jin managed to twist his body to avoid getting his arm severed, the tip of the blade cut a fine line from Vol'jin's collarbone to his abdomen. The shadow hunter stumbled and fell, and now the chattering of imps reached his ears. He bared his teeth in their direction, and struggled to get to his feet. The wrathguard brought his foot down with force on Vol'jin's shoulder, forcing him back to the ground. He snarled, but found his actions now were futile.

"This must be the real reason we-"

A throwing glaive embedded itself in the wrathguard's neck. Vol'jin's eyes widened, and he strained his neck as he tried to look up at where he had come from. Another felguard had made his way to the group, and he was promptly crushed, skull pushed all the way through his body to the ground.

U'thel, face twisted in rage but eyes rounded by fear.

He had full wings protruding from his back. His body was larger, covered in what looked to be dark scales, feet hoofed, fingers ended with sharp claws and dressed in tattered skin as the young troll's hands had changed from having three digits to having five. With one stomp he crushed the imps, and with a mighty flap of his wings he lunged for the wrathguard, tearing him in half with ease. The felguard Vol'jin had wounded was next.

And then, the demon hunter chased down the Eredar that Vol'jin had managed to daze.

The shadow hunter struggled to his feet. His injuries slowly became more obvious. Fractured shoulder. Broken ribs. Bleeding from the cut, and the scratches on his side, where the broken ribs were.

He staggered along, gritting his teeth, furious with himself for being so foolish as to think it would be perfectly fine to wander off on his own. The thought of a demon patrol had completely slipped his mind.

"Vol'ji? Vol'ji!"

Vol'jin was confused by not only the concerned tone to U'thel's voice, but also by the underlying panic in it. He could hear U'thel coming back up the path - but he couldn't make out the telltale sounds of armor or weapons. The young troll must have just woken up.

Still, Vol'jin attempted to keep walking on his own. His body had other plans, unfortunately, and fatigue made him stumble. U'thel must have reached him because the former fisted a hand in Vol'jin's hair, jerking him up. Vol'jin snarled at the pain; U'thel snarled right back.

He hefted Vol'jin onto his shoulder, and wrest the old glaive out of Vol'jin's hand.

Then he started cursing excessively under his breath.

He was still in what was clearly a more demonic state, and with several beats of his wings, he made it up to the ledge he'd come down from. He hastily made his way back to the grove, cursing all the while, and all Vol'jin could do was reflect on what had happened. And wonder how U'thel had changed into this demonic form in the first place.

It seemed to be something U'thel couldn't keep up for long, as seconds after setting foot in the grove, the form simply… dissipated. He unexpectedly dropped Vol'jin as he collapsed under the weight, yet another string of colorful words leaving his mouth, though he simply left Vol'jin on the grass and scrambled to his feet. Vol'jin focused on at least trying to push himself up into a sitting position.

The demon hunter returned after three minutes, dropping to his knees in front of Vol'jin. He grabbed Vol'jin's arms, and despite the pain that shot through Vol'jin's body, he let them rest over U'thel's shoulders.

This kept them out of the way as U'thel went about tightly wrapping bandages around Vol'jin's chest, then down to his waist. It covered the worst of the cut he had received, and the scratches - his bones protested, of course, but he knew they would heal in time. Next, U'thel inspected Vol'jin's left shoulder. Vol'jin tightened his lips over his teeth; he ignored the pain that came with U'thel's prodding. After all, he had easily resisted any desire to scream after cutting off his own thumb when he was younger. A fractured shoulder was nothing new.

U'thel sighed in what Vol'jin could only assume was relief, then set a raging gaze on Vol'jin. He looked as if he were going to say something - then his expression contorted, and he clapped a hand over his mouth before lurching to his feet. Vol'jin watched him stagger out of the grove, brows furrowed.

Retching reached his ears seconds later. It only made him feel all the more like a fool. He'd already established that U'thel was, if anything, malnourished.

It stands to reason that using that… demonic form be taxing on his body, Vol'jin slowly got to his feet, he wouldn't have anticipated me going off. He wasn't prepared for that.

The sun was starting on its way down to the horizon. Vol'jin gazed at U'thel's hunched over, heaving form before averting his gaze, feeling ashamed.

Finally, Vol'jin took the last few steps closer to U'thel.

"U'thel-"

"You," the demon hunter snarled, turning on Vol'jin while wiping angrily at his mouth, "what the fuck do you be thinkin', eh!? You coulda' been killed!"

Vol'jin lowered his gaze, "I wasn't. I went for a walk, and the idea of there being a patrol didn't be crossing my mind."

At the very least, his honest answer dispelled U'thel's anger. The demon hunter blinked. He had expected an argument.

Unsure of how to continue, both trolls regarded each other silently. U'thel scratched his neck, then paced, then stomped back to the grove; Vol'jin followed him.

Vol'jin took a breath, "you be seemin' worried, mon."

U'thel tensed, "I be tellin' you already, no? You coulda' been fuckin' killed."

"Woulda' been a weight off ya shouldahs," Vol'jin countered, pressing his hand against his injured shoulder. U'thel turned slightly to face him. He stood within the grove, and Vol'jin, on the outside. The minutes ticked by with them merely staring at each other.

Until finally, part of the wall U'thel had put up cracked;

"I don' wanna' be alone again."

His voice was small. Vol'jin stepped into the grove, and U'thel shuffled away, like a scared animal.

"Dat an' if you be goin' too far from de grove, and closah to dose demon machines… you be hearin' de whispers more loudly."

Oh. That explained why the whisperings were so much less audible to Vol'jin now. The moment he had stepped off the hidden pathway and onto that wider path, he had been assaulted by the whispers; loud, cacophonous, as if trying to drown out reason and draw him to the Legion.

It made sense. Demon hunters had to walk the thin line between being human, as it were, and demon - much like how shadow hunters walked the thin line between the shadows and the light.

"I didn' give ya any tips on how ta ignore dem yet."

"I be havin' de Loa on my side," Vol'jin mused, pulling his hand away from his shoulder, "it only be because o' dem dat I even managed ta kill some o' da demons."

U'thel perked up at this, "hm. I guess you be right. Den mebbe ya don' be needin' my help wit dat."

"You been a demon huntah much longah den me," Vol'jin said, moving to stand beside U'thel, "I would be appreciatin' ya wisdom even if it be seeming dat I alerady be knowing wat to do."

U'thel stared up at Vol'jin quizzically, tilting his head to the side - then, he sighed, "ya gonna' listen ta me, Vol'ji?"

"Yes."

"Den you be stayin' here tomorrow. Ya gonna' meditate. Ya gonna' be readin' my books, den I'mma be teachin' ya how ta use dat forge. If ya gonna' go off like dat, ya need ta be makin' armor, and weapons. Ya gonna' do it yaself, because I did."

Vol'jin nodded, and U'thel continued, "so you be eatin' sometin', an' go ta bed. We gonna' do de usual routine, an' den you stay here. I'mma be gone mosta' de day, collecting wat demon armor I can. Mebbe Shango will be willin' ta lend me his powah again, bu' I be botherin' him wit dat tomorrow."

Again, Vol'jin nodded, and U'thel ambled off to where he had started keeping food. Part of Vol'jin wanted to bargain; that he would eat if U'thel did.

"You should be eatin' sometin' yaself," he said instead, trailing after the demon hunter. U'thel scoffed, and Vol'jin pressed, "wat if someting like wat happened jus' now, be happening again? Ya body ain't in no condition. 'Course I can't be making you eat, Thel'ju. But you should."

U'thel was silent. Vol'jin pulled a fish out of the woven basket. He made the fire, cooked the fish, and ate in silence until U'thel finally joined him with some water.