Ploughing a furrow through the teal-green spray, the ship cleared the breakers barricading Celeste's port and sprinted for the open sea. Well, sprinted implying it could out-pace an ailing seagul with double-vision...
The cool crisp air whipped at the Tauren's leather jerkin, reminding him again of the northern wastes as Tornhoof had regailed him in under the light of evening stars, as he taught him the constellations that had guided him across the seas and been his comfort in foreign lands. The now-familiar smells of Goldweed, Fenisk leaf & the Bronzish Pine caressed his senses, elicitng a strange sense of longing for this land he had only called home for 2 moon cycles.
Having completed his initial training under the intent gaze of the old cow, it had been decided that he would return to train and mentor new calves in the ways of marksmanship, pet mastering & trap creation. Though he did not yet know where he would take these new kin of his under his care, he had been instructed to meet Tornhoof at the port of Grendus in 3 cycles of the moon. There he would travel South down the Bronze-edge coast to a village as yet unknown to him.
A screech of a seagul snapped him back to senses. Instinct arced his body around, drawing his spear while taking a step back. Razor stood nearby, surrounded by a cloud of feathers. Rhakin could have sworn an innocent grin passed over the scaly facade of the raptor's jaw. Allowing himself a private grin himself, he closed his eyes, remembering the parting words of the wisened old Tauren, 'My brother, I cannot keep you here any longer, I have knocked some of my ways into that thick skull of yours, and you must put them to good use! You must return to the Eastern kingdoms and best the Prince himself. And you will regail me, for once, of your exploits in the Opera house and perhaps the Jungle fortress I have heard rhumour of. I will see you on your return.' And those were the last words he had imparted to the young tauren before retracing his steps down the jetty to the well-aged Kodo.
As the night's chill closed in around him, he doubled-clicked his tongue to bring the raptor in line with him and realised just how appealing his hammock now looked to him! He reflected that owing to the fair winds, the ship's journey would not take him as long as he had thought, allowing him to make port in only 4 days. As such, he had decided to return an owl to Mulgore to state his desire to lay claim to the Prince's bow. Now why did owls always conjure stories of crafters of the magics?! He was sure it must be a tale of human origin, for why would you send a message by a bird that could be passed instantly through the nether! Daft clothies, and their glowing fingers.
The Opera house awaited though, in only 3 sleeps, the Opera house awaited. The Prince would savour the bitter taste of Wickedness. The Tauren would soon hunt again.