Spirit Walker II - A Harsh Lesson

The sun beat down hard upon the Grimtotem encampment, the pitch black banners waving, the smell of conquest was in the air.

"I am so proud of you Faroqe, my son, an Earthbinder!" Standing just inside a tent a rather beautiful shu'halo's voice boomed, her long black mane linking in with her jet black hide, almost a walking shadow. The Tauren in front of her shared her shadowy appearance but speckles of brown littered his hide, he wore a fierce harness and heavy kilt, a great totem by his side. A rather sly smirk played across his lips, "Mother, it's only an initiation. I haven't even communed with the spirits yet." Faroqe's mother snorted loudly, enough to stir another tauren in the corner, "Just you wait my son! Only entering adulthood and I dare say you could rival Magatha herself. You are a Grimtotem, you may not even lead this tribe, but you are the scion of a great name! You will be great!" The sheer pride emanating off the woman's face was extraordinary, the Grimtotem's were renowned for being fierce and warlike, they still loved, they still had their children. A Great Tauren entered the tent, oddly, unlike the others his hide was a deep gray, but his face did not portray age, it was almost silver in shade. He growled loudly and then began to laugh heartily, "Magaskawee, do my eyes deceive me or are you letting one of our calfs leave the tent?"

And that's where the dream ends.

She was not sure she was dreaming anymore, perhaps it was a nightmare? Or was it being home. -Home-. That word was wrong. What is home? Before the damn Bloodhoof called the Tauren to him, before they became settled.. Home was where your tribe was, and her tribe was gone. Power had finally gone to Magatha's head and she'd failed in her grand design. Pathetic. Weak. Foolish. Words that played over and over. She was glad they failed, glad Magatha, the woman who had stood and watched while the Grimtotem Chieftain slaughtered Magaskawee's children and then criticized her for wailing in grief. Damn them, she had found her 'home'. Sonitus, the young man who spoke with the grace of Cairne and acted with the courage of Thrall. She saw so much in him, she saw her son, what her son could have been. 'Magaskawee of the Plains'. A title that hid her tribe, her gray hide masked any trace, but it was still there. This Great Bull was going to climb, and Magaskawee was determined to be at his side, and if he found out what she was-..

"Spirit Walker?"

Magaskawee's eyes opened slowly, the High Bluff's fire was burning, how long had she been asleep? Gazing round at the source of the voice, Sonitus. He must know. The Great Bull must know the Black Crow flies over him, not that she flies against him.