After Mhar's death we tried to understand. It was then that I was called by her sister. Rhyia asked me if I had scribed the story of her sister. It was then that we realized I had not. More the fool I. Instead Rhyia took it upon herself to write what she could recall. Perhaps some day Mhar will give us the story in her own words.

There are some thing in this world that you never forget. Things that haunt you whereever you go. The scent of my fathers blood is one. The other, the other is the emptyness in my sisters eyes before she died. Mhar had hoped to see the Stonehorn reborn once more. She had tried so hard to bring us to glory once more and in the end... She failed. Was it that failure that tore her soul from her eyes? Maybe. I however think it had more to do with loss. There is only so much that we can endure and Mhar reached her limit too soon. Perhaps her story will tell us why.

Mhar loved exploring. She was always trying to find something new. Always looking to learn about new things. While we were calves she delighted in finding herbs and animals. She was always bringing something back to the camp to find out what it was. And once she learned her face would light up and she'd break into a huge smile. She was so carefree as a child. She never knew danger, never understood loss. Pain was just something mild that happened every now and again. From the time she could walk she was usually found tailing the Wiseones of our tribe. They loved her you see. Adored her. They were the first to offer her answers. The first to see to her needs and whims. To them Mhar was as the Earthmothers own chosen.

Mhar never knew what it was like to crave attention. Never knew what it was like to feel lonely. Though mother never did like her bringing things to our tent even she doted on Mhar. Father was the only one who didn't spoil Mhar. To him we were both his children and deserved the same amount of attention. As Mhar got older she would be seen in father's company more and more often. Constant attention can get overwhelming at times I suppose and it must have been nice to have someone treat you normal.

As Mhar got older we began to notice unusual things about her. How she could heal with a touch. How the plants and animals seemed to seek her out. Thorns would slide along her skin without harm only to pierce deep into my flesh. To the tribe it was yet another sign of the Earthmothers favor. Yet another reason for them to raise her above the others. Was I jealous of my sister? No. It was imposible to be jealous of her. Mhar was too kind, too sweet. My baby sister. Our pride and joy and the one who kept me in one piece.

Then came the centaur. Perhaps if father and I had convinced Mhar to speak against them it would have been different but we never thought to use her to achieve our own ends even if it was for the good of the tribe. So the centaur came bearing promises of peace and our people believed them. They used to shoot arrows at me you know, and Mhar would put me back together each and every time. The day before they turned on us openly is one I will never forget. That day Mhar's druidic gift blossomed showing but a glimpse of the healing gift she would one day wield. We had been gathering herbs and I wandered too close to the forest. The centaur's chief's son was there you see and he planted an arrow deep into my chest. I don't know whether I screamed or it was just our bond as twins, but Mhar came running and there, by the edge of the forest, she healed me. Healed a wound that should have killed me. We returned home that night and told our parents what had happened. Father's face became grim and he layed out his weapons. Mother on the other hand was sure it was an accident and told us she would speak with the chief in the morning. They attacked that night and our world changed.

When they attacked Mhar's faith in mother was badly shaken. The woman who had given us life had also allowed it to be destroyed. Mhar didn't see the warriors and hunters who had listened to father fall. She was spared the sight of their mangled and broken bodies as we ran out into the night running from those that had been our allies. Though her faith was shaken the loss had not been felt.

For three moons our tribe fled seeking refuge with others only to have the centaur decend time and time again slaughtering those who had taken us in. By the end of the first moon the fighting between mother and father had gotten bad enough that it hurt Mhars delicate feelings. For a calf as sheltered as she it must have seemed as though the world was ending and in many ways it did. Halfway into the second moon mother left us to live with a warrior of the Bloodmoon tribe. She wanted to take us with her but out of shock and anger Mhar turned her back on her and walked away with me and father following. That was the first night she cried herself to sleep. In fact she cried every night until the third moon after the attack. Nothing father or I could do would help so we stayed close to her and offered what support we could.

The third moon though affected her very severely. When the elders decided to send all of the calves off to try and save them Mhar was rendered speechless. Her tears and sobs were stilled and in the morning whenthe elders gathered the calves together she refused to leave fathers side. Mhar found her voice that day and she vowed never to turn her back on her people the way mother had. It would take extreme circumstances to get her to abandon her own and even then it would only happen if it was for the good of the tribe. In the morning our yearmates were dead and the will of the tribe had been broken. We fled that day, running until we found the Bloodhoof and Cairne.

Hamuul Runetotem had known of Mhars coming. The earth had let him know. At that time the druidic way was not yet with us but the Runetotem tribe had the gift in abundance and had learned to train it. Mhar was taken under Hamuul's wing, so to speak, and over the next two counts of seven suns she trained her gifts with him. Over that time Mhar grew quite close to Hamuul seeing him in the way of a child looking at their grandfather. Hamuul's heart was even large enough to include me though I never did forge a bond as strong as his and Mhars.

During our stay with the Bloodhoof Mhar worked herself to exaustion every night. She healed constantly, refusing to stop. I had to practically sit on her and force the food down her throat to keep her in good health. As long as she had energy to heal she would not stop. During the nights she sleep so deeply we could not wake her... But the wounded could. She could sense even in her sleep when someone entered the camp needing her to keep them from death. Her strength in those days were nigh to unmatched and her skills kept warriors from sliding over the edge to join the Earthmother. She alone restored what was left of our warriors spirits. She healed their very souls and sent them forth to fight and fall upon bloody ground and fall they did. Our warriors became fevered with a lust to kill the centaur. That lust kept them fighting long after others would have fallen and their faith in Mhar kept them alive long enough to see her gentle eyes one last time before joining the Earthmother. Not one of our warriors died in the field. All found some last bit of strength just so they could return to die with Mhar watching over them. Mhar never once showed how much pain their deaths caused her. Knowing they had fought and died because she had restored their faith was a heavy burden upon her. She seemed to weather it well but I alone knew exactly how bad she was torn up inside. Through our twin bond her grief and pain was mine as well and it hurt beyond anything I had ever known before.

One night our father bade me gather our things and bade Mhar to sleep then went off to speak with Cairne. When father returned we left the Bloodhoof and travelled a ways away. Father found a animal burrow and there he hid us. Once he had hidden the burrow and erased our tracks centaurs appeared. They felled father after a long fight. One arrow. In the end it only took one arrow. I heard it all with Mhar curled up against me. All the strength she had shown in the past had vanished and what was left for a time was just a young and frightened calf. A few days later and we were still in the burrow when we were found by a troll. She returned us to the camp and there took her place as our new found mother. We stayed at that place with the various tribes as Cairne led the warriors to fight for Thrall. We were still there when they returned with the other races. Shortly after they had returned Hamuul called upon Mhar. Bade her to come learn the ways of the druids and learn she did. Those days helped soothe her heart and heal the wounds left by the war. Two cycles we stayed and trained. She as a druid and me as a hunter. After those two cycles we bade farewell to Greatmother Fearia and left to find our own place in the world.

We did not travel long before going our seperate ways and i'm afraid at that point most of our contact was through occasional letters and feelings through our twin bond. I felt her joy upon finding her first family in the outside world. I felt her pride and happiness as she healed them and I felt her dispair on the day she left. I know not the story of why she left and even if I did it would not be my place to tell but I do know what followed. Mhar formed her own tribe only to leave it after but a short while. When I questioned her about her leaving she would not tell me what caused it, only that her tribe was now for the better. During her short stint as leader of the Stonehorn she found and fell in love with two males. Poor Mhar had the hardest time choosing between them but choose she did in the end and thus was mated. I truly wish that our twin bond did not exist the night of her mating. As it was I drunk myself into a stupor just to ignore the emotions coming through our bond.

Shortly after that night her and her mate found two calves that were without family and took them in to raise as their own. For a time they were happy. Things do not like to remain happy for long though and after she left her tribe, once she had been takin in by another, her mate left her. She never told me of a reason. Just told me that he had said to forget their mating had ever happened and very shortly after that her daughter died. Her son she had lost contact with for he had followed her mate. That left a void so great that the feeling of it caused me to run and hide in the wilderness. I stayed there for quite some time with only my companion Fadryth to keep me company.

Mhar survived that loss for one reason and one reason alone. A forsaken, leader of the tribe that had taken her in, watched over her constantly. Attempting to heal what little was left. For a time it worked and Mhar was content. She still had that void within her though and at times it tried to surface only to be locked away once more. Things were well until he disappeared. His loss tore what little was left of her spirit and cast it to the winds. She tried for a couple of moons to stay and wait for his return but in the end the dispair overwhelmed her and she was left empty. That was when she called me home. She bade me travel with her into Feralas. Showed me the view from the top of one of the mountains they call the Twin Colossus. I didn't know what she was planing until we were up there. Looking into her eyes that day I saw nothing. No sign of the woman that had been born my sister. Her eyes were empty and dead. I knew then what she had planned to do and I... I forgave her for leaving. I could not blame her for destroying the shell of what had once been my sister. There we embraced one last time and there I held the memory of her close to myself. A memory to keep for the rest of my time. The memory of the sister that was gone.

Rhyia lowered the quill. She had finally finished detailing what she had known of Mhars life. She placed the page with the others Grajaad had written. The history of Stonehorn... What was left of it anyways. She picked up the slab of wood carved with various designs. Running her finger over the top she closed her eyes for a moment in sorrow as her hand passed over a fresh carving. The carving that told those who knew how to read it that Mharin, Chieftess of Stonehorn, was dead. Then she let her finger slide to the other fresh carving or rather the fresh additions to an old carving. The one that declared her the new chieftess. With a sigh she opened her eyes and placed the wood over the pages. Quickly nicking her finger she smeared a drop of blood on the stone nestled in the center of all the carvings. There was a faint glow as the shamanistic magics took hold. Now the book was secured against others eyes. Any who should try to read it would see nothing but a mess of spilled ink. The ancestors of her tribe were bound to keep it from being read by any she had not given permission to. None would know exactly what had happened to cause Mhar to die. She would let them think that Mhar had finally been brought down by some wild creature rather than the dispair inside.

She placed the bundle to one side and rose to her feet. After a stretch she bent down and picked the record up. Hamuul was across the tent. She headed for him.

"Grandfather?" She waited for a response.

"Yes little one." The Arch Druid rose to his feet and smiled at the female before him.

Holding out the book she said but one thing, "It is finished."

Hamuul took the record from her. Looking at her he smiled and then drew her into a hug. "She stands at Ysera's side and there she is safe."

Rhyia nodded before pulling away and heading for the tent flap. She paused before stepping outside. "Goodbye grandfather. I will see you soon. Please keep an eye on Mhara for me." With that she left.

A short while later a young tauren, one on the verge of adulthood, stepped into the tent.

"I've come to say goodbye." The little black tauren smiled at her elder. "I'm going to see the outside world. Mother said I could before she left this time."

"Well in that case," The elder tauren scooped the little one into a big hug, "Have fun little one and be careful. Rhyia will be angry should anything happen to you."

The little tauren smiled and headed for the flap. "Mother always gets angry when something happens to me. I'm used to it now. Bye great grandfather." And off she went into the world.

Hamuul sighed softly. He spoke though there seemed to be nothing there. "Your little seedling is grown Mhar. Let us hope she does well and no one finds out the truth."

And in the Emerald Dream a pure white druid responded to the old ones words.

"I will keep her safe."