Wanderlust

Author’s Note: Ah yes, and here we are in chapter 8 at last! First off... Let me just say that my buddy Ringo deserves a MEDAL OF HONOR for putting up with my bullshit over this chapter, and beta reading it like... 89359364743675 times! Because it was rather a bitch to write. This first installment has been rather difficult for me, as it has to cover such a long period of time, and the pacing has been murder to get just right. It really is more like a super extended prologue to Enoki's story and though I felt it was important to write it all out, I didn't want to make it TOO long. SO YES! Hopefully just 2 more chapters or so of Episode one and it will be finished! I-I hope 8D

J-Just think of it as the 2 hour pilot episode! Enjoy!

Chapter 8

Fording the rolling emerald fields of Mulgore proved to be a more daunting task than Enoki had ever dared imagine, but it was undeniably the most thrilling experience in his thus far sleepy and sheltered life. He walked the road during the day with his faithful raptor at his side, spring in his step and a fiery glow in his chest. He saw the river and all its winding tributaries meshing through the fertile land, every bluff and mesa reaching high into the strata as if to catch the clouds in their stony palms and the shining waves of the winds as they made their presence known. At night he strayed from the road to find the shelter of ancient gnarled tree roots or clusters of rocks to curl beneath with his head on his pack and Zynn protectively under one arm, and at first light he was back on his feet, a crust of bread in his mouth and trotting enthusiastically onward.

After several days of immersion in his verdant homeland he noticed the grass begin to thin, the path begin to ascend and the terrain grow rocky and jagged. The sun hung low and orange and the air grew dusty and dry while his feet tread in earthy red clay. Nights were sharply colder against the baking days the higher he got and before long the greenery had completely vanished from the land and left him wending his way through the mountain pass and into the vast, flat wasteland of the Barrens.

The sprawling, arid savannah was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Roamed by herds of Thunder Lizards, Zhevra, Plainstriders, and packs of ravenous wild raptors, stocky trees with barreled trunks and flat canopies dotted the sandy, golden land shrouded in shimmering dust and heat. There he saw the first pair of armored war-seasoned Orcish guards standing sentinel along the road who smirked at the awe about the fresh looking young Troll and welcomed him with a cordial bow.

“Throm-ka brother! Hey there pup!” one called in jest, “You’re going the wrong way, Mulgore and Thunder Bluff and nice cool green meadows are the other way!”

He laughed, but Enoki’s face only lit up excitedly to see Orcs again as he trotted over with his juvenile raptor at his side.

“Fah! Yeah I know dat! Why yeh think I goin’ dis way eh? I lived dere fah mosta my life. Heh, but hey! Hey yeh all from de military yeah?” he asked animatedly.

Dumbfounded, the same guard who had spoken before shrugged and smiled uneasily.

“Well yes, The Barrens is Horde territory after all!” he said proudly, “There are tons of guards stationed here. Gotta be, ‘cause the forest of Elves is up North, and Theramore just a stone’s throw South.”

The Orc snorted and spat on the ground, which finally riled his companion to speak.

“Damn Humans always lurking, keepin’ an eye on us… Tch, it’s a wonder they’re getting anyone to join up,” he groused.

Enoki’s ears pricked up hearing one key phrase that sent his heart racing against his ribcage.

“Join up?” he ventured, hardly daring to hope.

“Huh? Oh, yeah they’ve been recruiting Grunts for Barrens patrol at The Crossroads for a couple of days now, had a Night Elf offensive hit us hard up by the Mor’shan Rampart. ‘Course the Warsong Clan is too busy to help out, and we lost a lot of good brothers and sisters that day,” the second guard hissed as the second shook his head with an Orcish oath for the loss of the dead.

All the Troll heard out of his mouth, however, was that there were openings in the military, and that the Horde needed him. Not to mention that Jyota had to be stationed somewhere as a military man as well.

“Hah! Dat great news mon! Thanks a ton!” he gushed, clapping each hand hard on either flabbergasted Orc’s shoulder.

“Uh, well not really, we sorta lost-“ the first guard to speak piped up again with one heavy brow raised and a finger in the air, but was interrupted as Enoki plowed his way straight between them and sent them spinning on their heels.

“So den Camp Taurajo jes’ a ways down dis path yeh? Den it on tah dis Crossroads place?” he called more as an afterthought, hopping on one foot to wait for Zynn to catch up to him.

“What…? Oh, yeah yeah! Uh, you should reach Taurajo by the end of the day, then if you get an early start you can be at the Crossroads by nightfall in two days’ time!” one guard answered.

“No way mon! I’ll be rubbin’ elbows wit heroes an’ havin’ lunch wit de Warchief an’ Shadow Huntah Vol’jin themselves by noon tomorrow! Jes you watch. Enoki come tah de Barrens, so de Barrens bettah watch itself!” he cackled, gave the Orcs a crooked salute, and turned to full sprint down the road toward Camp Taurajo.

“Enoki, huh?” one of the guards mused to his equally befuddled companion as they watched the Troll disappear, “Well, I’d say The Barrens could certainly use a hefty dose of that enthusiasm about now.”

The other Orc snorted amusedly in agreement and shouldered his axe.

“Yeah, but there goes our amusement for the day for sure…”

Camp Taurajo bore witness to Enoki’s whirlwind of exhilaration later that evening when the innkeeper had all too happily checked him into his room and fed him a hot meal which he devoured greedily. They swapped tales of Tauren life, of plans, of dreams, and Enoki went to bed only after the fires went out and Zynn had passed out cold on the floor beside him. The next morning he awoke at the first signs of dawn even still, packed his bag, left a generous tip from the donations of his village and started out once more on his way to The Crossroads on foot.

The Gold Road proved to be a much different trek than the roads from Mulgore. Though Zynn seemed to be perfectly at home with the bright sun beating on his blood red scales, Enoki’s teal skin glowed in the harsh light and glistened with sweat. The landscape vacillated and shimmered in heat waves, the air lifted the fine dust and the wind was weak and baking even when it blew. Doggedly he kept up his pace, determined to prove the prediction wrong, and shifted to wolf form as often as his paws could take the searing, sandy road.

Much to the Shaman’s chagrin, however, the sun set on one day and he was forced to take refuge beneath a small outcropping of rocks for the night. Spirits nevertheless still high, before the sun could rise over the mountains and ignite the land in golden flame he took to the road once more in the cool stillness just before dawn. That day, with a good sprint as a wolf until the road glowed white hot, a vicious pace, and water skin always at the ready on his lips he completed his journey just after the midday heat. Through the murky, heat muddled horizon, shrouded in smoke, a crimson spire topped in wickedly curved bone talons finally rose, and for the first time Enoki laid eyes on the brazen insignia of the Horde painted proudly over every side of the hide awning.

Soon after, the fence of trunk sized logs emerged from the haze like an impenetrable bulwark and the grand outpost swelled to full glory with banners flying, guards keeping sentinel and a steady stream of explorers entering and departing. The worn hub of travel and commerce sang with war drums, hooves, feet and chatter as Enoki approached which only made his pulse and his pace quicken to pass through the gates and into the Crossroads.

The Orc guards paid little attention to the tall, redheaded Shaman as he loped by, but to him it was like entering a fortress. The dusty air parted and revealed to him the bustling, crowded and noisy marketplace where vendors called out and shook their wares at the people passing through. Meat smoked and sizzled on barbeques, bags and weapons of all kinds hung glinting on racks, and a sea of all races of the Horde bumped and milled in the type of organized chaos only a market could boast.

Enoki barely realized he was staring in awe before a hunched, skeletal Forsaken woman ambled into him arguing with her altogether put out Blood Elf companion whining about how the heat was going to ruin his beautiful blond locks for certain. They both interrupted their snarking to unleash their rage on him, and he stepped hastily aside only to bang into a young female of his own kind who apologized to him instead and continued to chase after her wayward, newly trained tiger as it charged after a wandering prairie dog. As he watched her go amusedly, yet another passerby squeaked as he bumped into him carrying a cumbersome wicker basket filled to the brim with a kaleidoscope of colorful flowers. The timid little Troll priest merely ducked his head with a hasty apology, flushed, and skittered away, long blue braid tied off in a bright pink bow swishing behind him as he trotted down the road toward Ratchet. Something held his eyes for a moment on the fleeing form, but it seemed just as quickly as they had made contact the crowd shifted and swallowed them both once again and he paid it no more mind.

“Hah! Did you see dat Zynn?” Enoki asked, beaming down at his companion as the only motionless figure amidst the constant, ever ebbing stream of life, “Dat was an Elf! A real live Elf! An’ one’a de Undead! An’ a pretty cute Troll…”

Zynn swished his rigid tail curiously and his reptilian eyes flicked back and forth, overwhelmed by the sensory overload assaulting both fresh young recruits to the Crossroads. Enoki chuckled and patted his thigh, urging the beast to follow him as he edged he way carefully though the crowd.

The entire settlement was teeming with sights, smells and sounds unseen before to the Shaman. Being a Troll to begin with, and having grown rather tall for his own race, Enoki easily towered over most of the Undead, Elves, and even many Orcs for a perfect view daunted only by the familiar hulk of Tauren as they too fought to make their ways to the vendors or the inn. As he walked through the huts painted in Tauren pictograms he was offered hefty, spiked maces, clandestine daggers, and shields from dark-lidded, grinning salesmen and women hoping to make an easy gold piece from a little whelp still wet behind the ears, all of which he only cast a knowing smirk at as he passed them by. Aromatic smoke from cooking meat and baking bread coiled and wafted around sweating bodies piled hungrily against the food vendors, colorful fruit hung in rope baskets and from every angle hands jutted from cluttered, burgeoning tents and stands foisting out their wares.

Toward the central beacon that was the inn embers floated in the thick atmosphere and the clang of metal and a blacksmith’s hammer rang loud and clear over the din. A line of customers wrapped around the smoldering hut of all professions filled with people brandishing broken weapons and torn, tattered clothing for a quick patch before heading out on the next leg of their journey. Though even thicker than that crowd was the one gathered in a makeshift circle at the very front entrance to the inn, cheering at some unknown, hidden spectacle.

Enoki’s ears pricked up and he loped his way over, peering over shoulders just in time to see a young, dark-haired Elf clad in plate armor hit the dirt at the mercy of a bolt of fire against his shield. He wiped the trail of blood from his mouth on the back of his hand as he got up with a grin, and unfazed he whirled his blade over his wrist, flashed in brilliant, holy light and charged the stunned Troll Mage. He snarled and fired off one last desperate searing fireball, but it detonated harmlessly against the shield of light around the Blood Knight. Sword and staff collided in a burst of flame and light and the duel ended at last with the laughing Troll pinned to the ground, out of mana with the ever smirking Sin’dorei’s blade aimed at his throat.

Groans and cheers alike erupted from the crowd and coin purses jangled as bets were begrudgingly paid off. Enoki simply applauded, sorry he missed the beginning of the event, and once the crowd began to disperse and move on shoved his way to the combatants.

“Good one that time, my friend!” the Elf chortled as he offered a hand down to help the Troll up, “But you’re going to have to be much more clever to best me I’m afraid.”

His companion took the proffered hand amusedly and stood up, dusted his robes and straightened out his bright orange braid.

“Heh, come on mon, give me a little more credit. All I know how tah do is chuck fire at stuff an’ hope it don’ get close enough tah bite,” he laughed.

“Well, I admit normally I’d be the one doing the dirty work, but sooner or later you’re going to have to learn to AVOID getting hurt rather than counting on running back to me to heal your-“

“Oy! Hey guys!” Enoki cut in with a grin as soon as he was within earshot, “Hey! Hey, you both look like fighters. You from de military? Any idea if dey still signin’ people up?”

Both friends looked startled for a moment, but surprise quickly washed into warm, kind smiles.

“Oh we have a new recruit here do we? Well, we’re not currently employed in the Horde armed forces, but you’ll be pleased to know that yes they are still here taking fresh meat,” the Blood Knight joked in his most prim and polite manner as he sheathed his sword.

“Welcome to de Crossroads broddah!” the Mage continued with a hearty clap on Enoki’s shoulder and a playful, greeting butt of their tusks, “Yeah, if you be wantin’ tah enlist dey got a hut set up jes over dere on de oddah side’a de Blacksmith, can’t miss it.”

Without another beat wasted Enoki thanked them both and followed the sound of the forge and the clamor toward the Blacksmith’s hut. Weaving his way around the line he excused himself and assured everyone pointedly he was not in fact cutting but simply moving through, his heart raced, and his eyes gleamed as an altogether different group of people came into view. On the other side of the Blacksmith just as his fellow Troll had informed him there stood a proud military tent in the same red regalia of the towers in the Crossroads with banners on every post painted with the bold and jagged black sigil of the Horde. A handful of grayed Orcs milled about in front of it chatting with the young grunts about their service or their sons and daughters who were off fighting, but few it seemed were actually there to enlist.

Though to Enoki, that only meant a shorter wait and the faster he could get his assignment. He flew through a break in the crowd, clutching the straps of his pack and grinning as he approached the tent, but as he rounded to the front all he saw was a coy twinkling of gold wrapped around long, immaculate tusks out of the corner of his eye. A flash of violet followed echoed in rich, boisterous laughter that rung with warm familiarity through his core. Something sleek and black was coiled loyally on the dusty stone road and his breath was stolen from his lungs like it had been only once before in his short life. The images and colors blended like the end of a beautiful dream, and his eyes beheld once more the smug and grinning face that graced only his deepest thoughts. The roar of the crowds vanished in his ears, the bustle and business faded to oblivion around him and all that was left was the laughing vision of brutal beauty, glowing golden in an aura of sunlight as he slowly turned to face him.

“No way…” Enoki breathed as the amusement melded into incredulous recognition on the other’s face.

He rose as his jaw dropped and he unthinkingly threaded his way around the recruitment table; his eyes fixated on the sight of a lost few days of hazy bliss in the past returning to him. He too was paralyzed in the piercing emerald gaze of the shaman wreathed in the fiery red glow of his hair and spirit, caught suddenly in the strange doubt of whether or not his eyes and heart cruelly deceived him.

“Can’t be…” he ventured, “Enoki…?”

The beautiful apparition spoke and made himself known, made himself undeniably real. He could see him, he heard his voice, his body trembled to behold him once more, but he was there, waiting for him as had been foretold. All of his longing, all of his pining and dreaming all culminated in the conclusion of a single, simple journey guided by the hand of fate and his mouth formed the breathless name once more.

“Jyota…”

His feet were as the wind itself over the dusty ground as he ran toward the dream. Their worlds stopped, their eyes met, and their arms encircled one another as they collided in mirthful, reckless joy. Both Trolls erupted into euphoric laughter as they were reunited, twirling in each other’s arms, tusks butting and noses brushing as their lips came tantalizingly close to a longing kiss they dared not steal. Enoki tangled his fingers in the wild violet Mohawk and nuzzled his forehead into his to drown himself in the euphoric abyss of his golden gaze.

“I can’t believe you here mon!” he laughed.

“Enoki! Sparky! It realleh you! I can’t believe you here eiddah!” Jyota replied, squeezing Enoki ever tighter.

The raucous laughter, wrestling and playful punching continued in the timelessness only their unbridled, shared joy could incite. Jyota’s intoxicating, wild smell filled his nostrils, his rich blue skin heated his and his entire being thrummed in dizzying passion, feeling as if he could stay that way for eternity. They pulled hastily away when they realized exactly how close they were, however, and held each other at arm’s length.

“Hehe, yeah I jes heard dey was takin’ recruits here, so I came on ovah! I-I had no idea it was you,” Enoki finally panted.

Jyota laughed again and reached out to smooth back the unkempt red hair, tucking a few strands behind his ear and letting his fingers linger over his striped cheek.

“Oh, so your grandda finally letcha out from undah his hoof eh?” he joked in good faith.

Though he immediately rued the words, for the giddiness faded for a gruesome instant and Enoki’s eyes shut and his head hung in sorrow.

“Grandda he… He passed away,” he informed him through his tight throat.

“Damn, Sparky… I so sorry tah hear dat,” Jyota said mournfully and pulled the Shaman tightly into his arms.

Enoki smiled, laid his head on Jyota’s shoulder and sank into his embrace with a tiny shake of his head.

“Don’t be. Grandda lived a good long life, an’ he left dis world a happy man wit all his hopes fah my future,” he murmured into his neck.

“An’ now you show up here in my arms again, jes’ like I said. Though dat pipsqueak wit’ you is a little small fah ridin’ yet! Hah!” Jyota continued, still in a state of disbelief as he gestured down to Zynn, shifted back from Enoki and gazed into his emerald eyes, rendered nearly speechless, “I… I… Sparky you know all dis time I had hopes. I realleh did! I honestly, selfishly, asked de Loa every day tah let dis happen, but… At de same time I told myself I had tah be realistic. I didn’ really think I’d evah see you again. But here you are, right here! An’ I nevah truly realized how much I wanted-“

“Oh give me a break! Blah blah blah! You talk too much! Go ahead and kiss him, Jyota! We all know you want to!” came a sudden and gruff interruption from behind them.

Unaware they had been privy to an audience, they both stole a glance toward the grinning row of Orc recruiters at the table all watching the scene with baited breath and laughed before burrowing back into each other.

“Heh, he got a point mon,” Enoki chimed in boldly, mischief glinting in his eyes, “You nevah was good at kissin’ people when it obvious you both want to…”

Jyota grinned from ear to ear and hauled the redhead dashingly into his embrace.

“A kiss huh…? Well I think I can spare one’a-“ he began, only to wind up the one dipped back in Enoki’s arms with their lips sealed passionately before he could finish.

Enoki kissed him, mindless of the laughter and applause from somewhere unknown, heedless of the people pausing to stare, knowing only the hot skin against his, the hands gripping his back and the bangled tusks locked with his as Jyota returned the slow, smoldering dance of their lips. It was their zenith, their victory, and nothing else existed while their souls could sustain it. Its clutch loosened, and they reluctantly separated, breathless, smirking, and flushed but ever casual and collected, two victorious heroes of their private epic gazing into each other’s eyes at the beginning of their tale rather than the end.

“I here… Jyota,” Enoki whispered, closing his eyes and nuzzling his forehead into his, “Dis where I belong now. With you.”

“Definitely,” fervently replied the Hunter.

“I spent so long wishin’ for dis, imaginin’ it, ovah and ovah as many ways as it could be! Bad an’ good, mostly good but-!” the bright-eyed Shaman gushed, “Haha! It freakin’ unreal! I thought for sure I was gonna walk all ovah de damn world an’ nevah find you again.”

“Ahhh… But dat de powah of de Loa, mon…” Jyota crooned, taking Enoki’s hand and pressing a suave kiss into his knuckles, “It de powah of fate. You was meant tah come here today, I was meant tah be here, everythin’ dat happened tah make dis moment was done on the whim of de Spirits. It a sign we meant fah more.”

“So… Den where am I meant tah sign up?” Enoki finally asked with a puckish quirk of his lips.

Jyota alighted one last amused kiss on his forehead, placed a hand in the small of his back and shoved him playfully at the table.

“Sign yah soul ovah to us right dere,” he instructed.

Enoki pitched forward and collided with the table where a where a grizzled, smug looking Orc sat among the others with his boots up on the table picking his chipped double tusks with a piece of hay and watching the spectacle with glee. Enoki lifted his head, surveying the impressive, heavily armored stature from the waist up, and met with the stranger’s intense and keenly steel eyed gaze. His grey streaked, receded, jet black hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck, and his wiry beard was cinched into two tight braids on either side of his chin. Awe twinkled in his eyes, but in a flash of deadly precision a nearby ledger and quill pen from the table launched toward his head. He yelped and deflected them with a forearm, but glared daggers at the amused captain he had just been admiring snickering coarsely at him as he picked up the pen to write his name.

“Oh so you can write! And block something aimed at your face apparently. Good start! Just make your mark right there kid, just a formality so we know how many bodies we’re supposed to have,” he said, sliding his feet off and slamming his meaty palms down on the table in their place, “So! Then, you’re the feisty little shaman from the provincial dump in Mulgore Jyota wouldn’t shut his trap about eh? I expected something a little more than a scrawny whelp!”

Enoki twitched and the quill snapped as it ran off the page.

“Oy! Where you get off talkin’ tah me like dat eh? I here offerin’ up myself an’ you go an’ talk trash?” Enoki bristled furiously, “De hell kinda messed up leadah are you if you gonna make people feel like crap de minute dey comin’ in here tah help yah worthless ass? You gonna deserve it when yah men abandon you an’ let de stinkin’ humans put yah head on a pike!”

Enoki seethed, short fuse obliterated in an instant, but much to his surprise, after a moment of stunned silence the Orc gasped in delight and exploded in merry laughter.

“OUCH! This one’s got a sharp tongue Jyota!” he guffawed, “You sure you want to keep him?”

Jyota glided to Enoki’s side and swept the signed ledger up into his hand with a slanted smile and a coy glance out of the corner of his twinkling eyes.

“Aw shut your trap Gor’rik! You ruinin’ my fairytale reunion here!” he snorted before leaning down to whisper less than secretively beside Enoki’s ear, “Don’ listen tah him Sparky, he jes an old blowhard who pissed I won’t hop intah bed wit’im.”

“Hey!” Gor’rik protested, “I am in no way interested in ‘hopping into bed’ with guys, let alone you! Give me a pair of perfect tits, a tight little waist and curvy hips any day of the week over a scrawny flat Troll ass. Though I really shouldn’t say anything about being a blowhard, I’ll just dig myself a deeper grave, heh.”

Jyota laughed heartily, the fiery rage in Enoki’s gut abated, and he crossed his arms across his chest petulantly.

“Tch, ain’t no woman gonna be hoppin’ intah yah bed with dat attitude,” he scoffed with a coy smirk as an afterthought, “Or dat face neiddah…”

A beat of silence passed among the three men, and Gor’rik slapped the table with his thick, calloused hands as he howled again.

“HAH! Oh you’ll fit in quite nicely around here I think!” he roared joyously, “Name’s Gor’rik, as Jyota was so kind to point out.”

“Enoki,” the Shaman replied quickly, “An don’ be treatin’ me like no whelp, I’ll fry yah ass.”

He snapped his fingers with a crackling of sparks to make his point in front of a toothy, confident grin as Jyota’s heart privately skipped a beat behind him.

“Oh I won’t, I’ll be treating you like anything but a whelp! I work my men to the bone for the Horde! And I send little whelps home to suckle at their mama’s teats for a while longer until they learn how to be real men!” Gor’rik jokingly lectured.

“Sounds like a real hoot,” Enoki commented out of the corner of his mouth.

“For sure,” the hunter concurred sardonically, “Gor’rik be de Commander around here, an’ he took me on as his right hand not too long ago, but I… Technically outrank him now.”

Gor’rik’s eyes rolled dramatically in his skull and he swished a hand in the air dismissively.

“Yes yes, the Warchief was very kind to spare the mighty Jyota for the menial task of patrolling Orgrimmar’s proverbial front yard, so if I might be so intrusive, may I humbly implore you to round up the new recruits and lead them to the barracks to get them suited up for tomorrow for me? I believe we’re pretty much done here for today,” declared the commander as he stood and brushed off his palms.

Jyota instinctively snapped to respectful attention, and pounded a fist over his heart as he bowed.

“Yes sir!” he barked before turning to face the disorganized flock of meandering recruits lingering around the tent, “Alright ladies an’ gents! Lets get a move on an’ getcha suited up! Yah life is for de Horde an’ only for de Horde startin’ right now!” he hollered over the small band of fresh bodies, “Single file behind me, lets MARCH!”

Several moments of realization were needed before the malaise of waiting lifted, but slowly those who had pledged themselves for a tour of duty in the Barrens loyally emerged from the crowd and gravitated toward the blue-skinned Troll’s commanding voice. Enoki had never seen Jyota acting the part of his rank and it only solicited a snicker from him as he too fell into line behind him with a mock salute.

“Heheh, yes sir, Jyota, sir,” he cackled under his breath, voice dripping in teasing sarcasm.

“Oy, you bettah learn some respect here kiddo, I lenient, I think yah adorable, but some’a de oddah guys in charge around here ain’ so nice,” Jyota warned kindly, to which Enoki only grinned wider.

“Good luck tryin’.”

Jyota opened his mouth to reply, but Gor’rik denied him the opportunity by shoving the reins to his raptor into his palm from his perch astride a hulking grey wolf. He mounted obediently as well and took his place on the opposite side of the line comprised of all races of the Horde, every age, gender and experience. With a whistle and a shout from the imposing Orc commander, all automatically fell into step behind both he and the Troll while they lead the brisk march out of the Crossroads and into the wild wasteland of The Barrens.

“Let’s move out!”

Enoki called Zynn to his side with a whistle and the raptor was quick to follow his master in taking yet another first step of a journey into the unknown. He knew nothing of military life, of the Barrens, of the Horde, but he craved the swelling feeling of belonging that that blossomed in his chest that day. Walking with his brothers and sisters, marching with purpose and with pride to serve the Warchief that had saved and united them all gave him the purpose he had lost with his Grandfather’s passing. His soul was bolstered as they sung ancient war songs and he memorized every word, learned every name of his new companions, and joined in when he could, laughing, singing and joking. All of it became a grand parade of hope and thrill and the young Shaman treasured every moment of it.

Walking directly into the sunset in the west, it took the battalion until nightfall traveling at a brisk pace down the road to reach the barracks nestled just off to the North side beside a lush oasis. The encampment was calm after a day of training and patrolling in the baking sun and exhausted but good-natured Orc grunts pushed the training dummies back into the storage sheds, picked up weapons and stabled wolves among the long shadows and deep ember highlights of dusk. Smoke rose from the cook fires springing up in various pits speckled around the canopied Orc Burrows and eager, hungry soldiers crowded around for their share of dinner. The scent of roasted meat wafted into Enoki’s nostrils and his stomach growled voraciously, but the troops marched on past the mess line and headed toward a larger supply hut near the back of the camp.

“Awww you gotta be kiddin’ me! We don’ even get tah eat first? Come on Jyota I been livin’ on bread an’ jerky since I left my village! Dis be torture!” Enoki whined.

Ruminations of agreement rumbled down the line behind him, but none dared to speak out so boisterously. Gor’rik’s tattered ears flicked, however, and he turned over his shoulder toward the young Troll.

“Well you should know better, I don’t feed those not employed in my division!” he snorted, “You get dressed like a grunt, act like a grunt, feel like a grunt, only then you eat like a grunt around my campfire. You can never truly know what it feels like to join the brotherhood of battle until you are properly equipped! It’s only natural! Uniforms add to the sense of unity, add to loyalty if you will! If you’re all equipped the same, for the same cause then you look united and therefore FEEL united! It’s an essential part of joining any battalion! Why, when I was just a young pup I remember getting my first pair of spaulders and my very first axe. A grinning axe, I called her ‘Crescent Moon’… Or was it ‘Wolf Fang’…? Or was it ‘Wolf Moon’? ‘Crescent Fang’? Either way! She was a crude, dull, miserable piece of equipment, but she was mine…”

The ears of Enoki and the rest of the Grunts in rank deafened themselves out of mercy while the grayed commander gestured wildly in the air with his arms as he continued his tirade. Jyota grimaced visibly at his flank and the Shaman choked back his laughter as he muttered to himself.

“Boy, he wasn’ kiddin’ bout dat blowhard bit…”

Despite Gor’rik’s words, however, he already felt like a true soldier to his very core. Filing into the equipment hut and waiting amidst hulking, spiked, shadowy piles of leather harnesses tingled through his nerves with anticipation and filled his nostrils with the scent of musty leather, sweat, and acrid dust. One by one the men and women were handed the spiked shoulder pads, the harness, trousers, boots and gloves of Barrens patrol hued in a rustic, modest tan and orange and fringed in protective fur.

Enoki could scarcely keep himself from elbowing his way to each pile to take his first pick of the gear and claim the most perfect set as his own. He spent precious time at each item, examining every pair of gloves tailored for Troll hands, every ankle wrap, and every belt for his slender waist until piece by piece he completed his regalia. Once he held his uniform in his hands he shamelessly shed his traveling clothes with the others, stuffed them into his pack and began donning the vestments of his newly instated post. It was like a sacred ritual, a transformation, a metamorphosis, shedding the last reminders of his old life and his childhood and embracing the warrior’s heart thrumming in his chest. He lashed the harness across his chest and fastened the heavy plates ridged in spikes to his broad shoulders as they fell with a thud and an ominous clank into place. The trousers fit snug to his chiseled thighs, and he wrapped his sinuous ankles and calves in the thick leather bindings and pulled the lacing tight. Lastly he sheathed his three-fingered hands into the gloves nearly reaching his elbows and coiled them tightly around the crude, crooked handle of a freshly sharpened axe.

Enoki lifted it, letting the weight guide the flashing blade in a blur of an arc over his wrist and with a hefty bang metal clashed with metal and the Shaman stood, axe roguishly over his shoulder and a dangerous grin on his lips.

“Now Enoki look about ready tah kick some ass! Ain’ dat right? Jyota?” he boasted with a heavy-lidded sneer and a finger pointing to the distance, not needing to look behind him to know the Hunter had been fixated there staring at him.

Before Jyota’s eyes the wide-eyed child had morphed into a wild, fledgling warrior with the same bold heart and fiery spirit that had stolen him long before.

“Yeah, Sparky…” he breathed in wonder, a distant, dreamy look of joy on his handsome face, “Yeah you do.”

Enoki threw his head back with a peal of hearty, robust laughter and punched a fist in the air.

“Den de hell we all waitin’ around for?” he shouted to his compatriots, “Now we a part’a dis outfit, now we entitled tah food! Let’s go storm de camp!”

With a swelling roar of agreement from the others, Enoki and his faithful Raptor promptly lead the swaggering march out the door bathed in the ruddy light of dusk with axe glinting and long ponytail swaying behind him. Jyota stayed for a moment in the quiet wake of their famished rabble and Enoki’s long, crooked shadow, smiling privately with his eyes shut. A soldier, he was not, nor was he a follower, but already he could see the new spirit of their sleepy battalion trapped in the tedium of Barrens patrol. He was wildfire finally unleashed, and even as Jyota peered out from the supply hut it spread. It was Enoki’s voice he heard above all the others, his laughter, and his commanding presence among the other soldiers heartened by it.

The sun finally set on the young Shaman in his new home and as the diamond studded cobalt sky washed over the arid plains Jyota finally treaded silently to the campfire to be by his side. For that moment they could be together and lose themselves in the half drunken mirth of campfire tales and war stories. In the morning they would both rise with the sun and Jyota would walk beside him on his new path and his new journey toward his ever capricious horizon.