Heat shivered up in wavering ripples against the barren vermilion lands of Durotar. Plump, black carrion birds wheeled hungrily overhead, their eyes on the hunt for the flesh of man or beast who were too weak to survive the wastes hostility. A few times the black, winged bodies would blot out the rays of the relentless sun in shadow before all the fury raged down upon the land again.

For all the desolation, life still thrived amidst the perilous lands. Chattering scorpids scuttled along the desert floor near scraggly singular trees their fiery, beady eyes roving over the land for gobbets of flesh and quick lizards under the red rocks. Snakes basked on boulders in the heat like limpid ropes, their bodies to lazy to even flicker out their tongues.

Quillboars snuffled and languished in the heat they had been reared into. Squeals occasionally broke through the heat as they spoke with one another from the far distances warning of travels and enemies alike.

Along the hard land a loan boar snuffled hungrily in the midday heat. Ambling along in the excruciating temperature the boar seemed not in the least penetrated by the rays. Its dark red hide baked in the sun as it raised dust from its travels. The snout wiggled and patted the barren sand, whiffing and huffing dust in search in small clouds of red for the odd plant.

Hunger, survival, was always the goad to prod the peoples of Durotar out and about.

Sniffing along, the piggish black eyes found a pale sprout of a Peacebloom, nested in a crack of a boulder and limp in the sun. Grunting in satisfaction the boar trotted hungrily over to the plant.

As its teeth dove to chomp and the plant a squeal shrieked wildly from the beast. Blood splattered from the creature like red rain. The eyes rolled in the back of its head as it collapsed to the side. The beast did not even know what caused death to claim him as his life fled from his body.

From a rocky outlook above, Caewyn smiled in feral satisfaction. The spear laid embedded deep into the creatures hide like the pole to a banner.

Hot wind stirred the girl's russet hair in playing as she raced down the outcrop. Pale clouds of dust followed her trail as she maneuvered like an acrobatic serpent down the cleft to the dusty floor below.

Eager flies were already swirling about the carcass as Caewyn came to slow stop above the carcass. Gripping the shaft to the spear pressed a foot down on the body and ripped the aged weapon out of the flesh. Blood dripped from the tip steadily and she wiped the ichors fluid on the body.

"Father will be -," she began happily, then paused, her thoughts going to words told to her earlier.

Father!

Dipping down she grasped the bloody beast by its ankles. Heaving the dead beast over her shoulders she headed off in a fast trot toward her home. Her father would be furious.

~8~8~

"Father!" Cae panted as she slowed her pace to the training ring on the north side of their home.

A weathered, battle scarred hand met her, silencing the girl before she could finish. "Where were you?" the growling voice demanded. Though Caewyn could not see his face she could imagine the displeased scowl upon his visage.

"Hunting, father," the girl replied, her chin tilted up, though she flinched at his tone. Shrugging the beast from her shoulders she laid the carcass at his heels. The animal's body spurted a hidden fount of blood and dribbled into the thirsty sand and she rested a foot on the carcass. "I have brought fresh meat."

Graul grunted lowly, still not turning to face his daughter. "And that should appease me?"

"Our boars are wane this season," Caewyn protested calmly, her eyes pinioned to his bare, knotted back. "I thought a fattened boar would serve us well."

"But you missed your sparring," Graul pointed out bluntly in a no-nonsense growl.

Rubbing the back of her neck with her hand, Caewyn forced herself not to shy away from his growling inquiry. A sigh blew from her mouth and she nodded firmly. "Yes father, I know."

"Why did you miss your training?" His spear, thick as a tree limb, rapped like a thick gavel to the ground.

Caewyn did not have the proclivity to miss sparring. Not often was she late for she, as all of them, enjoyed the routine exercise to keep them strong and hearty for battle. And in the days to come, Graul knew sadly, she would need every ounce of honing and training she could muster.

The girl shrugged. "My hope was to be back in time, but I was lost in the hunt. The beast was careless and I could not help by work to his weakness."

"And you weren't careless by forgetting you were supposed to be here instead of tromping around in the heat after a foolish pig?" he rebuked but there was no reply. A grimace crossed his face like the wrinkles that gathered upon his brow. She had no excuse. Sighing, his voice lowered into a thunderous murmur. "You know what this means do you not?"

Another sigh escaped her lips as they came to the root of the matter. "Yes father. No riding with the war parties."

"For a month," he clarified evenly. Even though he faced the ring where his sons sparred, he could nearly see her opening her mouth to protest but shut it again.

A month? All for a boar? Caewyn scowled down at the beast. True, her family would eat well and then salt the rest for a later date, but a boar should not have been worthy of a months suspension from slaughtering Alliance and their elven allies.

"I know you think this punishment harsh," Graul grunted again, "but you will not be here to curse the time that goes by."

Confusion furrowed Caewyn's brow at that. Not often were Graul Strongspear's words laced with cryptic meaning. He was a straightforward, blunt orc. "Father?" her voice revealed her confusion.

Turning around, the muscled, aging orc frowned at his daughter. He had changed from the spry young orc he had been two decades ago. His face was lined with leather wrinkles tanned by the sun. His tusks were chipped from battles and his face showed just a bit of sagging flesh.

His muscles were still enough to overpower his sons, but not by much. He could swing his axe but with every swing a new twinge of pain set in. He was waxing into the realm of old age whilst his children were just entering into the prime of life.

His daughter had grown into quite the warrior since her few pup years. War paint, left on from previous raids adorned her face and body. She was clad in simple leather and mail. Nothing fancy for her ramblings. Her hair was tied by a black leather thong and her sun tanned body was limber and corded with sinew.

Across her back was the spear that dubbed the name of everyone of their line. She had earned the weapon by combat against her seven brothers and would bear the spear proudly until her death or she passed it along to any of her children.

She was 24 now and had thrived from her beginnings.

Sighing, he motioned to the darkness of their home. "We must talk." He knelt and grabbed the back legs of the boar to drag the creature to the home.

"Your command, father." Caewyn nodded curtly to his her curious thoughts and followed her father.

This was not like her father at all to be clandestine and want privacy to talk about matters. A twinge of anxiousness entered her belly like a slew of skittering lizards inside her stomach but she forced down the wariness. Whatever they needed to discuss wouldn't be so terrible, she forced herself to believe. It would be alright. Everything would be alright.

The inside of the house, as always was cool and dark, relieving the heat from their backs. The burrow spoke of home but there was an emptiness that lingered in the shadows was a teal light that was Shala once glowed.

Leaving the carcass at the door, the aging orc called off the worgs that greeted them and licked their hands like newborn pups. His steps thudded against the red rock and smoke black walls as he hunkered down on a stool next to the fire-pit.

Lacing his thick fingers together, he leaned back against the cool wall and observed his grown daughter. "You are a woman, Caewyn. You have become a warrior in your own right and passed your Om'riggor. You fought for right to wield the family spear."

"You commend me father," Caewyn thanked with only a hint of pride in her voice. She had never been a boasting, gloating person but she was proud of what her in her deformity had gained her.

Waving his hand, he suppressed a smile. Any father would be proud of what their children accomplished and he was proud of each and every one of them. "I am only speaking of past deeds to show where you stand. This you already knew and your survival has proven your determination and skill. I am confident of your prowess and your bearings as a warrior. Therefore," he sighed, "therefore, Caewyn I have taught you all I can, and I think it time you went out from this place for a time. There is more to the world than Kalimdor or the warrior city."

Thin lines knit upon Caewyn's brow at his words. Her face darkened in shadow as she took a step towards him. "What are you talking about, father?" her voice was a frail whisper.

Why did he stumble about what lay in his heart? Why did he not confront the issue that linger just on his tongue?

"What you have done in the past lays like a path behind you. Where you walk you leave footprints that etch your past deeds. Now is the time for you to make more prints, to gather more strength and knowledge and power… elsewhere. You will leave this land for ones across the sea. I have friends on the zeppelin in Ogrimmar who will take you to the Eastern Kingdoms, Stranglethorn Vale to be exact." He leaned forward. "You will stay there, expanding your knowledge of that land until I call for you again; until I think you have grown beyond the borders of home. "

She stepped closer. "But father wh-."

"Do you dishonor yourself by challenging your patron's command?" Graul rumbled dangerous to hide the pain behind his words. Never had he enjoyed throwing his weight about, using his dominion as leader of the family to reign in his children and force them into obedience. He encouraged them to ask, to challenge, to discover, to peer beyond the surface, but for this, this she could not know.

As of late things had gotten worse since the Cataclysm as it had been called. Thrall was all but gone from the seat of war chief and the son of Grommash Hellscream sat upon the throne. Little by little Garrosh was growing intolerant of the other races of the Horde. Where Thrall had welcomed the outsiders, Garrosh favored his people above all. Though he had let Pandaren from the newly discovered land join into the fold he treated orcs as though they were superior to everyone that made the Horde a whole. Like fabric that made an entire blanket he was slowly clipping away the strands that were not pure orcish bred people. He had no love for humans and if he saw Caewyn, if her deeds drew attention to her so close….

No. Better to wait until Thrall returned. Thrall after all had given his approval on Caewyn long years ago.

Garrosh, he guessed, would have been less accommodating. Already he was making sparks with Vol'jin and even insulted the Dark Lady! There was no way he would accept a human into "his Horde". Garrosh was the type to only see the outward. He did not see into the heart; the heart that made up the Horde as a whole entity to be feared.

Words that so wished to spring forth from Caewyn's mouth danced upon the tip of her tongue. Like a flame, the hearts desire to want to know glowed in her chest and flickered and danced to be set free in a flooding conflagration of anger and pain directed to her father.

The Horde was everywhere and in everything, fighting and dieing and thriving. Why would he make her leave now when she had a chance to prove herself? To show others she was more than a freak and to be seen just as an orcish warrior?

Swallowing the fire of her words that truly burned like acid down her gullet, she shook her head slowly. "No Popo, I will not bring dishonor to myself by disobeying. I will do as you ask. Like I have always done to prove myself a faithful daughter. To make you proud."

"Don't you try your tricks, Cae!" Graul could feel his walls breaking, his growl melting. Though she was not as strong as an orc she could find vulnerability and strike at it. She knew she had his heart. She was a daddy's girl and if he could throw his weight around so could she.

His throat felt blocked with a burning boulder as he banished the emotions away. He had to be strong, he couldn't crumble to her in a battle of words. "I have reasons for my decisions. Now do as I say and prepare. You leave on the morrow," he ordered in a low rumble.

So soon? Caewyn felt her heart tug, but stifled the pain. Squaring her shoulders she nodded, every inch the dutiful daughter. "At once, father," she stated firmly and marched off past the aging orc to collect her things.

Graul's heart sank as he stood all alone in the main room. The crack and clang of weapons outside and the grunts of his sons fighting in the heat and the buzzing flies were the only sounds that filled his ears.

His heart bled like a slow wound from burning poison as he traced back over what he'd done. She wouldn't be gone forever, he tried to reason to balm his agony. It was for her own good. Until things were settled she would just have to stay out of the attention of the Warchief for her own good.

In the meantime she would be alright. She was a fare warrior and Ancestors knew there would be plenty of trouble in Stranglethorn to keep her occupied. She would have battle and glory and as long as she did not hate him for what he had done everything would work out in the end. Hopefully.

Rubbing his rough cheek, the orc looked down to the dusty floor. His shoulders sank as though in defeat as his heart twisted with worry and love and despair. "Guide your daughter, Shala," Graul sighed, wishing his wife was still living and there to give her sturdy, sage advice and comfort. " For the journey she is face to take, she'll need it."

~8~8~

A/N: So, yep, that's her backstory. I might write another to explain how she came to be in Stormwind for a little while. Who knows. Thanks everyone who read and reviewed! I hope you enjoyed. :3