Rulfux wasn't having the best of days.
Normally, she wasn't. However, yesterday had been a special kind of a not-so-good day. Just a slight way away from the main structure of Thunder Totem, Rulfux sat on the floor of the tent The Ashbound were gifted by the Highmountain. In her lap, her beaten journal, showing all the stained blood on it in her careless times during those compacted years. It was open to a new page. Nothing is written yet. Sighing, she tilted her head back against the stiff tent wall and closed the book. She closed her eyes and felt the ribbon that tied her platinum white hair back press against her scalp. She thought back to yesterday reluctantly, particularly with the event that started it all.
A large tauren woman stood in front of him, dressed in her tribal regalia with crossed arms. Her sharp horns indicated she was one of the many tribes from the plains of the Barrens and Mulgore. Though she had a plain appearance, her war paint marked her to separate her from those who might share her looks. The white paint on her muzzle looked especially fearsome on her as she frowned, looking down at the young elf.
Rulfux shifted slightly on his feet. "P-please? If I am to learn to heal in combat situations, zhis may be a great opportunity!"
She snorted. Her tail flicked and brown fur twitched. Her bangs swooped just out of her glaring brown eyes. As she moved minorly, her totems dangling from her belt clicked against one another, as though a song of disapproval. "And I say you are not ready without another experienced healer to back you up, young one." Her deep voice was soft, yet stern and full of resolution.
He looked down in a frown, the action tugging on his ever-present white cloth mask. "I cannot learn if you do not let me." He looked back up at her. His heart pounded in his chest and he gathered a bit of his gift within the palms of his hands as he held them behind his back. "Please, Tunrah. You alone cannot heal everyvun. Surely even you must know zhat."
She sighed; her eyes closed. Her tail swished, though her fur did not shudder this time. Rulfux hoped that they would not have to do what they planned. It was a stupid idea. So stupid-.
Her eyes opened, gentle, yet filled with determination. "I cannot allow you to throw yourself into danger, young one." Her voice was gentle and motherly. So motherly it tugged at his heart and the more he planned on doing the stupid thing the more it hurt.
"Very vell, zhen." He turned his head down and closed his hands, still behind his back, in a slight bow. "I shall vait until-." He did not finish as he has suddenly rightened and threw his hands forward, just enough to flare the gathered Light into the tauren's face.
Her eyes dilated both due to the Light and shock of the action. She shifted into a hasty ready stance, though unsteady. A phrase in Taurahe escaped her, presumably a swear, as Rulfux bolted past her, outside the bounds of Thunder Totem and towards Stormheim to join the other members. To aid them.
And should they need it, to heal them.
She opened her eyes as she finished reminiscing. Why was she so stupid then? Was it because she was male then? Wait, was that sexist? Probably. She was probably stupid as a woman today. Although regardless of what gender she was for what day, she knew then and now it was a stupid idea to ditch that tauren. She was a shaman, by the Nightwell, Rulfux thought to herself. Not only that, but she had years of experience in the field. She learned everything about keeping others alive out there.
She looked down at her own hands.
The phantom blood that stained them.
She knows better than me.
Did better than me.
She shook her head to clear the thoughts. Unwittingly, she remembered the worse part of that day.
The wolves that attacked.
They weren't wolves such that in the way that rocs were just birds. These beasts were face-level with the Zandalari, Gaju, that joined them. Those howls.
Those unnatural howls.
Sure, Rulfux was terrified. Not enough to run, at the time. Though thinking back, she decided she should have run then. Especially when it started foaming blood from its mouth. Especially when a mere howl could set her own blood on fire, knocking the very wind from her lungs.
She could handle physical pain and torment. She had to endure it before. Though such an unnatural and magical source of pain blind-sided her. Muddled her thoughts.
She remembered two newcomers. One a paladin from the Argent Crusade. The other, a Blood Knight. The Argent was a small goblin in a massive mech, whereas the blood knight wielded a spear in hand.
The blood elf was dragged off at one point.
Things got hazier from there.
She closed her eyes and desperately tried to remember what was going on through her head then.
Erial. Erial was hurt.
That wolf. They dragged her off.
Another, closer by was slain. He noticed the spine ripping free from the canid's body and scuttling off on freshly grown legs.
That wasn't important to him right now.
Erial was hurt.
Erial needed healing.
His healing wasn't that effective. Not at this distance.
No, he couldn't make excuses. He needed to heal her. To fix her.
He had to heal her.
To heal.
To fix.
To mend.
There was light. Also, Light. So much Light. The Light ran off. Off towards Erial. To heal? To fix? Yes, it had to. That's what the Light does.
That's what it has always done.
It will do it again.
Others were hurt.
He needed to heal them, too.
She groaned, snapping out of the strange, yet familiar thoughts. Damn that so-called teacher, she thought, cursing her first mentor in the healing arts. She brought her black-gloved hands to her face and rubbed it, slowly at first, then vigorously.
She dropped her hands from her face to the ground. Her left hand hit, though her right hand bumped a rust-color-stained tweed cloth sack next to her. She looked at it with disapproval.
The sack did not move. As well it shouldn't.
Broken, parasitic spines shouldn't move.
That shouldn't have been a thought, let alone a thing, Rulfux thought to herself.
She was then distracted by the sound of a pair of hooves walking into the tent. Looking up she saw Tunrah. Blushing from shame, she turned her head away.
"Little one," the gentle giant spoke. The hoof steps, now on some slightly harder ground, echoed a bit more. Slightly louder than they should have been. The movement paused, though her totems clicked together in a symphony of wood, bone, and stone. The massive frame slowly turned and sat down next to herself. The tauren's warm fur brushed against her dark clothes. The tauren must have turned to face her because a sigh from her jostled her platinum bangs lightly. "I am glad you are intact, little one."
Rulfux closed her eyes and hung her head. "Zhat vas a disaster, zhough…"
"Yet everyone lives," she quickly interjected. Rulfux still did not look at the kind face. That motherly look could more than simply hurt.
A large, three-fingered hand lightly tucked a single finger under Rulfux's chin and gently turned it towards the shaman. Rulfux didn't fight it but kept her gaze elsewhere. "Please, look at me, young one." The request was so gentle, so kind. Slowly, Rulfux's blue eyes flickered towards Tunrah's soft brown gaze. Gods above, the gentleness almost hurt her-.
"You, and everyone around you lives. That is what matters." She had that look on her face. One that Rulfux had to think so hard to remember what it meant. "The mistakes you made can now be learned from. Improved upon. You will never be perfect." Rulfux's gaze faltered and jetted down for a moment before Tunrah nudged her head up again. "Do you know why, little one?"
Confusion radiated from her eyes as her brows knit together. "I-. Ah… Hrm…" A few seconds passed before Rulfux honestly replied, "I do not know."
Tunrah smiled kindly, "It is because you are mortal. As we all are. But even more so, we have a start." Her teeth flashed behind an amused smile as Rulfux was looking back, intensely, wanting to learn more. "I believe that when things have a beginning, when things are born, they must learn and grow. Because of this, mistakes will be made. Imperfections. As a result, few things are perfect."
Rulfux grew concerned. "Does this mean N'zoth is perfect, zhen?"
Tunrah's face shifted into a thoughtful one. "I don't think so. After all, he did have an end, so he may have had a start. Just much further past when anyone can comprehend." She lowered her hand from Rulfux's face as she stared into the elf's eyes. "Do you understand what I am trying to say?"
Rulfux turned away, a thoughtful look on her own face. Do I? Well, perhaps. She looked back to the tauren woman, a grateful look gracing her features.
"Zhank you, Tunrah."
The tauren woman smiled and swiftly pulled Rulfux into a hug, surprising her. "You are most welcome, little one." Rulfux sighed, content. She closed her eyes and returned the hug from the motherly shaman.