3 AM updates... Don't do those. I'm tired but I couldn't sleep and I had the jitters as I finished this one so I'm sorry. Not much action here, just a filler. Some contemplating and thinking and dwelling as Taluulai is prone to doing. I hope you enjoy this chapter and excuse any typos you come across. I'm really trying not to keep everyone waiting too long for a new chapter.
"I should have warned you about Jaerim," Giizheg told you over the wind. You sat behind him atop a creature called a horse. It was something similar to a Talbuk but shorter and bore no horns. The horse wore armor like you had seen the Elekk that were used for patrol wearing, it rode swiftly over the packed snow. You found it a bit uncomfortable to sit upon and by the way you were lagging behind the others, you suspected that it wasn't used to carrying two people. You awkwardly held onto Giizheg by his pauldrons and tried your hardest not bounce against the hard plate that covered him with every step the horse took.
"He is volatile on his best days," He continued, "And his moods have been getting progressively worse since we arrived on Draenor. I should've given you at least something of a warning about him, but what's done is done. I apologize on his behalf for how cold or even downright mean he can come across as, I only hope that you won't take it personally."
"I don't." You said, and you didn't. You remembered his moment of vulnerability from a few nights ago. The raw, open grief and sadness that broke through the stiff anger and caution. He was like you in the way that he had clearly lost something important. You couldn't help but wonder about him, you were curious as to his past, and he made a good distraction against your own pain. "Is he like this with everyone?"
You felt Giizheg nod, "Usually, especially with newcomers. That doesn't mean it wasn't wrong of him to treat you that way. I'll have a word with him when we get to the garrison, I can usually get through the fire and ice in him. And he won't always act that way toward you, I hope. He has a good heart, truly, he just shields it and guards it well. I cannot blame him though..." There was a pause, "It is not my place to tell his story, as it is not my story, but I will tell you this; Jaerim has lost more than most. There are reasons for why he acts the way he does, good reasons. Still, he should try to be more accepting, even if it's not in his nature, even with his past."
You fell silently as you contemplated the paladin's words. They were a confirmation of what you'd suspected, but somehow they left you wondering even more. You sighed and looked around, squinting as you turned your head to observe the land around you. Everything was silver or black or some shade of blue. The sky was dark with clouds of gray and navy, the snow silver as it fell from them and blanketed the black ridges that jutted out from beneath towering snowdrifts. This was Kaurin's home, a part of you was just now realizing. You'd known that since you first saw it from the slaver's ship, but it was as if you were only just now finding this out, waking up. This cold, harsh, beautiful land of swirling snow and twisting spires was where he had grown up. You wondered if he had ever walked here in the very spot you had just ridden past. You wondered about his home and his family. He said it was by the sea, that his family raised the wolves you so badly feared and caught fish, that he had never been to the Orcish village of Wor'gol, that he had brothers but that they were dead. You wondered if one of those wolves his family raised ever belonged to him.
You suddenly remembered the dream. With the Orcish woman and the two wolves in the cave by the sea... The blue and silver banner with the wolf's head, the Frostwolf banner, the necklace... Her eyes. Those eyes you knew so well. You could only wonder what that dream meant, if it even meant anything at all. But if it did, was there a message? Surely there was a message, there had to be. You had never dreamed of something like that before, something so vivid that you felt as if you were actually there.
They looked so alike, Kaurin and the woman in your dream. She looked to be a bit on the older side, slightly weathered and haggard, tired. There was the unmistakable glint of grief in her eyes when she gazed upon the necklace. It was so strange how similar she looked to him. The more that you thought about her, the more similarities you were able to find. Similar skin tone and hair, a calm demeanor and a kind face- for an Orc. The eyes were the greatest similarity, of course. The gold was a distinct shade you hadn't seen in the eyes of the other Orcs. The woman was so strikingly alike to him that she could practically be his mother.
That thought stopped you. His mother... Your mind whirled. Was this dream sent to you by some otherworldly force- The Light maybe? Were you supposed to seek this woman out? There were so many questions. Who was she? What was her name? Was she truly Kaurin's mother? What was she doing now? Where was she? You found it hard to remind yourself that she could possibly be nothing but a grief-fueled figure of your dreams, brought about by the part of you that couldn't and wouldn't let Kaurin go. She might not even be real. The chance of that was great.
You found your mind busied until Giizheg and the others stopped to set up camp for the night. You climbed down from the horse with his help, aching in places that you had never realized could ache before. Walking around was hard enough with your missing eye, with the added fatigue and soreness you shambled through the snow and into the small camp being hastily erected by the others.
Thankfully, it's up much quicker than you had anticipated and it isn't long before you're seated on furs piled on the large, relatively snow-free, stone slab chosen as tonight's resting area. It's an almost-cave, stone spires and jutting walls of black rock surrounding you, only a small area of the sky is visible had started a fire that you are now surrounding, seated between Giizheg and the yellow-haired woman you recognize as one of the healers. You feel like you should say something to her, a 'thank you' at least, but you can't manage the words. The light from the fire bathes the dark rocks that shelter you in reds and golds and warmth floods your bones. You feel hot and sticky, unbalanced because of the lack of sight on one side, suffocating between all these people. It's quickly becoming unbearable...
Your eyes strain for something to focus on, your ears trying to pick up a conversation, anything to distract you. You run your right hand through the pelt draped around your shoulders and you try to let out your sigh as quietly as possible. The atmosphere now reminds you of the mines. Warm light and hot air, the stench of sweat, fatigue, fire. Enough of this! Your mind is struggling to pierce through this fog. You're tired of feeling this way, of the mines still haunting your every moment. But the events that took place there have burned that place into your mind, memories have freshly-painted portraits displayed at the front of your thoughts.
You close your eyes and pick out the one thing from that place that held you together week after week. Kaurin is sitting before you, his gaze intense, his fingers brush your hand and clasp your fingers. You feel small but it doesn't bother you the way it did before. He could crush your hands with his own but he never would. You reach your own hand up to run them along the strange texture of the braids in his hair, the roughness of his skin on his chest before it smoothes out and becomes briefly soft at his throat. You have memorized the feel of the front of him after so many sleeps against it. You're no stranger to the back of him either but you'd rather not think of the scars that litter his tanned skin. The image is suddenly infected. His face is twisted in pain, eyes screwed shut, mouth agape and filled with rocks and dust and sand, cheeks scraped and bruised. The crushing weight of your failure returns, when you open your eyes again the camp is entirely set up and the others are sitting around the fire as your eyes burn and sting and tears linger like the ghost of Kaurin, like the tainted memory of him that will never be as good as the real thing.
Even dead he had been beautiful. Beautiful in the way that a wood carving is beautiful, or a rough stone, a gnarled tree, dark earth just before planting. Rugged, open, wild and honest. In the rubble he had still shone like an amber star, a piece of the sun, molten gold. You wonder what life would be like for the two of you if you had met under different, better circumstances. Where would you be? Would you still have ended up together? Would Father dislike him so much? What of Mother? Would you be joined, maybe even living together? What of the possibility of children? Draenei children were slow to come and rare a sight, but surely you would've had some eventually, yes? You paused at that thought as the image of a dusky-skinned little girl with horns, a tail, and tusks filled your mind. She would tug at your skirt and stare up at you with gold eyes, grinning as she shoved a wildflower from the plains of Shadowmoon into your palm.
It was so horribly unfair.