Haa'aji sauntered into a small hut, barely noticing as both his brother and father greeted him. Since his talk with that elven woman, he'd had a hard time talking to anyone. Was it true? Could cannibalism really make your tusks fall out?

He figured he could deal with the rest of those side effects, like going crazy and such, but when that elf had started talking about the effects it would have on his tusks... Haa'aji was a damned good looking troll and to lose any part of his physical appearance to anything would be a hate crime against the world. At least, that's what he figured.

A scar here or there would just make him look more manly, but a tusk-less grin? What was he, four?

Gen'taji smacked his brother on the back of the head, and Haa'aji let loose a string of curses. However, Gen'taji was not to be dissuaded from his purpose. He gripped his brother by the arm and motioned with his head to a trollish woman seated near their table with their father.

"Zen'tesh be hea ta see ya, yeh? Don' be actin' like nah bitch elf."

Haa'aji didn't bother to hide his apathy as he looked over at the hopeful looking trollish woman. Her smile wilted as his attention settled on her. It wasn't that he didn't like women—rather, he was quite fond and appreciative of the female figure—but that he just... He often felt like he was trapped, particularly when women became involved.

His family already had his life planned for him. He would be a proud Amani warrior. He would take a mate and have children. They would be proud Amani warriors. The cycle would continue.

It was so...boring.

Before Haa'aji could dismiss himself to go spy on the rogues, his father coughed into one of his hands and gave him a look that nearly made his heart stop. The troll dropped down to the table to join the others seated on the floor mats around it. He flashed Zen'tesh a reluctant smile, and she perked up a bit, as though dismissing his earlier 'mood' to have been stress or some such nonsense. Honestly, the things women could come up with to keep their idiot hopes alive.

Gen'taji motioned toward the fish and vegetables marinating in their own juices on the center of the table as he took a seat himself. "Zen'tesh hea made us dinna."

She nodded her head politely, her hands in her lap. Haa'aji poked at the meal. His father shot him another glare as he helped himself. After Gen'taji and Haa'aji had taken their food, Zen'tesh followed suit, though she merely picked at her plate as she watched Haa'aji. She looked like she wanted to ask him if he liked it, though he made a point not to look directly at her. He wouldn't give her such an opening.

Finally, his silence worked, and Gen'taji smiled at their guest. "Dis be great. Whea ya be learnin' ta make dis sort a stuff?"

"Ah taught mehself," Zen'tesh murmured. While she smiled at his brother, her gaze kept flickering back toward Haa'aji.

Haa'aji picked around the meat. Despite knowing that it was fish, he couldn't help but imagine the different horrors that elf had painted for him. Surely, she had been lying. After all, his people had honored the dead through taking parts of them into themselves for thousands of years, so if there were truly side effects, they would know it by now, wouldn't they?

"Ya...ya don' like fish?"

Haa'aji snapped from his thoughts and made the mistake of looking up to see that Zen'tesh was watching him, anxiety written all over her face as she picked at a few beads on her kilt. When he realized that all eyes were on him, with his brother and father both looking ready to smack him, Haa'aji merely shrugged. "Ah nah be feelin' it tahnight, yeh? Sorreh, mon."

Zen'tesh tried not to look hurt as she nodded. "Sorreh...Ah jus' taught...Ah jus' learned ta make dis 'n taught ya might like it."

As she looked down, Haa'aji gave his brother a pleading look, though Gen'taji merely scowled quietly before putting on a sympathetic face and reaching out to pat Zen'tesh's shoulder. "Haa'aji always been finickeh, yeh? Dea been a week, when we was kids, dat he woldn' eat ne bat at all. Ah mudda been de bes' wit' bat flesh, too, yeh? Haa'aji jus' has sum moods, sumtime."

The trollish woman tried to be comforted by Gen'taji's words, though Haa'aji could see that she was still hurt. Good. Maybe she'd stop coming by.

~"~

Gracie Waterhoof twitched one of her ears as she tried to sit attentively at the archdruid's feet. Honestly, she didn't want to hear what he had to say; it was too horrifying. Using all of her strength to keep her pale fur from bristling every time he mentioned the mysterious plague that was wreaking havoc on the Eastern Kingdoms, she barely noticed when he looked her way and frowned.

The steer beside her nudged her, and she blinked. With a sheepish hunch in her shoulders, she nodded apologetically toward the archdruid, and he continued.

Shadow was the druid beside her, and he gave her a half smile before returning his attention toward their superior. Shadow was a massive creature, even for a tauren, and yet he was one of the gentlest men Gracie had ever known. She always thought that it was a shame that he'd already found love, for she would have dearly liked to be the woman he came home to every night.

In all honesty, it was her infatuation with him that had led her to volunteer for this meeting. The archdruids of both the Alliance and the Horde—while the Tauren were still new to the Horde, they were proud to represent it—had called out to the best of their druids to aid in a secretive task. A heavy warning had come with the call: while it was not something to be spoken of lightly, the matter was grave, and only those with steeled resolve should bother to answer.

She had thought she would let this one pass her by, as there were plenty of other druids who were stronger or faster or more courageous than she was. However, when she'd heard that it was a life or death mission and that Shadow intended to go...well, she couldn't let him go by himself, now could she? Sure, he was quite strong, and he didn't really need protecting...but she wanted to. It would probably be the closest she would ever get to him, too, and that was enough.

However, she hadn't expected the topic to be a plague that raised the dead. It was an unnatural abomination, and the archdruids wanted to send people to investigate it.

Bunkering down, Gracie steeled her will and prayed to any- and everything that she'd be able to keep her lunch down as the archdruid continued to detail their mission.

~"~

Shadow sighed as he entered into the night air. He thought he'd at least have a day or two to consider the archdruid's request, but the old tauren wasn't going to give them time to let nightmares weaken their determination. They were to leave tonight.

He lumbered through Thunderbluff, making his way to his tent to gather supplies. Most of what they'd need, as far as food and bandages, had been prepared well before their council, so he was really just going to gather some clothes and...

His mind blanked as he saw the slender form of a tauren woman leaning against a tree near his home. As he approached and saw the honey colored splotches of fur running along her arms, interrupting her pale coat, he smiled to himself. Whisper Windsong, his wife.

Even thinking that sent shivers through him, making his fur bristle in waves.

Her mother hadn't been too thrilled that she hadn't been present for the ceremony—neither had his mother, to be honest—but the ancestors had blessed their union. The last few days had been blissfully sweet, and the two of them were excited to spend the rest of their lives together. They were looking into where they would want their home to be in Thunder Bluff, and late night talks of how many children they would have had already begun.

Whisper looked as though she might have nodded off, and he took advantage of this to slip into cat form and stealth. He padded his way quietly over to her and paused, looking up to see that she was asleep. How was it she could do so leaning against a tree? If it were him, he knew he would have fallen over by now, probably taking something out with him.

In a quick motion, he moved out of stealth and returned to his usual form, picking Whisper up in his arms and grinning as her eyes snapped open, and she looked around, almost frantic, before realizing what was happening.

With a glare, she lightly hit his chest and crossed her arms, her tail twitching irritably. "Put me down."

Shadow seemed to consider it for a moment, but laughed and complied as she threatened to use her totems on him. As her hooves hit the ground, he nuzzled her mane. "I take it I was longer than you expected?"

"What, no," Whisper objected, an embarrassed expression flitting over her face. "I... just got here a few minutes ago." She looked up to see that he wasn't buying it, and her embarrassment amplified itself.

Shadow watched her fidget before pulling her into him and holding her tightly. "I have to go for a few weeks."

"What?" Whisper tried to jerk away and glare up at him, but his grip was too tight. Instead, she glared at his pectoral. "You can't leave. Not now. We might be married, but mother's going to start hounding me that I need to find a new steer. One who'll be around."

"Well then, I'll just have to steal you back when I come home," Shadow finally released her and gave her a wink as he pinched her rump. She shoved him, and he playfully pretended to get knocked backwards.

"Good luck," Whisper muttered, a mixture of play and real indignation on her face. "Perhaps I'll like him more. He won't ditch me to go hug trees."

Shadow let out a bellowing laugh, though he quickly checked it as a few neighbors glared out of their tents, angry to have been woken so late at night. He nodded apologetically toward them and then looked back at Whisper. "When I get back, I promise to stick around for as long as you can stand me."

"You'd better hold true to that promise," Whisper wagged a finger at him. "We're bound together. Forever."

"And ever," he added, swaying a little with her, enjoying the feel of her against him.

As he smiled and held her to him again, trying to memorize the feel of her in his arms and the smell of her fur, she sighed. "When do you leave?"

His smile slipped. "Now."

~"~

Adrias sat nestled in silken sheets, his eyes refusing to open the same amount as sleep still clung to their lids. Gryst'lyn had come in through his window and already scared off the woman he'd taken to bed with him earlier that night.

Gryst'lyn hadn't even waited for the door to close behind the wench before he'd started talking. Adrias' scrambled mind tried to follow his friend's logic; he had begun to register that Gryst'lyn was dressed in armor with a sword strapped to his back. He was pacing back and forth at the foot of Adrias' bed, going on and on about how the reports didn't add up.

Narrowing his eyes and trying to summon enough of his consciousness to make sense of what was going on, Adrias held up a hand and caught Gryst'lyn's attention. "What in the twisting nether are you talking about now?"

Gryst'lyn stopped in his pacing. "I'm going to go find Amaeria."

"What?" Adrias sounded more exasperated than he'd meant to, and he frowned as Gryst'lyn donned a hurt look. He floundered for a moment, trying to gather his wits. "Amaeria is dead—"

"I don't think she is," Gryst'lyn perked back up and strode alongside the bed, taking a seat near his friend. "I've been reviewing the reports in regards to how she disappeared, and there's a lot of inconsistencies. Her friend, Jaserisk something-or-other said that she wandered off by herself and that she must have been killed by the undead that have been appearing at our borders."

"Okay..." Adrias thought he was following the conversation.

"Well, others are saying it wouldn't have made sense for her to wander off by herself, and two men filed requests to have her disappearance investigated, though there's not really time for it, what with the southern villages and towns needing to be evacuated."

"Okay."

Gryst'lyn slouched forward and ran one of his hands over the back of his neck. "Well, by the time we manage to deal with those creatures, the trail will have gone cold. I understand that they can't afford to look into the matter, but..."

"Wait," Adrias clapped a hand down on Gryst'lyn's shoulder. "So they think her disappearance was suspicious, yes?"

"That's right."

"But they aren't contesting the fact that she's dead."

"She can't be dead," Gryst'lyn frowned.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Adrias took in a long, slow breath. He exhaled and repeated the action twice before opening his eyes and meeting Gryst'lyn's hopeful gaze. "You are my friend. You know this." He waited for Gryst'lyn to nod before continuing. "I have always supported you, even when I thought your decisions were moronic at best." Another nod. "This is foolishness." Gryst'lyn opened his mouth to argue, but Adrias merely held a hand up, frowning. "I am sorry that your lover is dead, but she is. She's gone. Even if parts of the report are wrong, it doesn't change the fact that she was lost to those creatures."

"But no one saw them actually ki—" He didn't' seem able to finish the word. Instead, he gulped. "No one saw them take her," Gryst'lyn's voice sounded desperate, and his ears flinched as he seemed to lose faith in his theories even as he spoke them.

"Gryst'lyn. She was a priest. Physically weak. A healer," Adrias almost stopped himself as he saw the hope slowly draining out of his friend's face, but he hardened his resolve. "Without someone to defend her, she wouldn't have been able to fend those creatures off for long. Even if she did manage to keep herself healed, fatigue would have overcome her and—"

"Enough," Gryst'lyn shot to his feet. "I'm going to find her." His voice trailed off before he shrugged his shoulders. "I was hoping you'd come with me."

The two stared at one another for an excruciatingly long moment that well could have lasted an eternity, before Gryst'lyn jerked his gaze away and headed back toward the window. Adrias watched his friend hop up onto the windowsill and cursed himself as he realized he probably would be dying for the idiot after all.

"Let me get dressed, and I'll come with you."