“Either you let me show you a place where you can hide and survive. You can make your roots and be passive but living like a tree, or you come with us to the clan, you aim not to survive but strife. Not like a tree, but like an orc!” The Druids words echoed in Mara’s mind yet her answer was clear when she drifted to sleep. For she knew that Kazok was right and her niece couldn’t be left alone for a lifetime. Not only because sooner or later someone would find them, be it his or their clan, but also because she knew after their first battle an Orc would not be under their elders' control any longer.
They called it Goblin Fever. The fury that was pumping through a young orcs veins for weeks, sometimes moons, after their first battle. They were aggressive, yearning for more fire in their hearts, always looking for the rush of axe and gore. Some orcs said it never truly ended, while others would feel the tides of battle ebb and flow, but even they knew the flood of rage could always return. Often the way an orc lived through the fever determined how they would be in life. Some would gain another victory, and start a life of drink, joy and fury, others were humbled and often end in a way of servitude. It was on their parents to see what path their young would take during the fever but a Goblin was hard to control.
Mara’s brother Bruna was humbled by their father. For during his time as a Goblin he dared to challenge the great Khan, his father. It would have been unwise from any child but wisdom was not what the Goblin Fever, and even less what Bruna’Gash the beast was known for. He got beaten down as hard as the great Khan had to. Not even in a way that would make the clan say “it was a good fight” but in one that made them fall silent to great Khan Ara’Gash the mountain. Just as it had to be. “Do you understand now, boy?!” he asked as his son lay down bleeding in the snow of the valley. Too beaten to even carry the strength to answer. “I asked you something?!” Back then Mara was too young to realise the pain in her fathers eyes, but she knew her brother was near to closing his own. She rushed from the cloud of silence to his side. He was the boy then man who raised her, not their father and she would not watch him beat her brother to death. No matter what for, as she was too young to understand. She remembered how the pain in the great Khan's eyes became more and more visible until even she could see it, just before he turned away. “Bah…he has had enough…”. As they grew older she started to understand. Both why their father had to beat his son this much, and also that the pain was born from more than just his son's pain. It was the path he was forced to punch into him. For a great Khan could not endure a loss, or be challenged for his life sooner or later. Unbeknownst to her, the one thing the Khan they called the mountain should regret for the rest of his life, was to not endure the challenges, and for his son to rise as a different orc.
Still, while Bruna was still a boy, many saw him as a future Khan. Big and muscled, even at a young age. Trained by his father and other riders like Gor’Mash. Even if the title of Khan was not to be inherited they all felt that he would be a great choice once he was of age.
But even if he continued to strengthen his muscles, his days as a Goblin did not end in the fury a Khan would need, but in humbled servitude. More like a Wyvern, than their rider. Stronger in any way, but beaten enough to be enslaved.
There was a short time they all hoped the fury of the boy would return to the man he had become. When he got a mate, and bore a child of his own. When he became a rider and a threat to the south. A menace from the sky just as his father was before him. But it all changed yet again when he lost the woman that had bared his daughter. All ambition had shifted that day, from the will to be a conqueror, to the duty of being a father. If things had been different he would have ended his time as a rider. Taken it for his daughter, but it was not to be. For soon the winters became colder, and so did the new Khan. A friend he called brother, and a leader he would never dare to disappoint.
Mara’s mind was flooded with many of those memories as the warmth of the sun woke them inside the tree. It had been a week of work around it and she was surprised that they didn’t encounter more of the greenskins yet. Only Kazook, Rika and great Wolf Branak as they did their best to be very weary but welcoming hosts. She was surprised by the work to be done, despite the usual hunts for wood and dinner, they worked a lot on the slain wyvern. Once Kazok realised that a Shaman knew the old runes as well she and him both carved runes inside the leather of its skin. Even though she didn’t know what it was for, and assumed it would be only one of many trophies at the great Oak, she still felt honoured.
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“What do you want it to say?” She asked him.
He grinned and looked at the forest around them “Ha! What are shamans even doing up there?” he grunted and returned his orange glowing eyes to her “down here, a Druid listens to the world around him.” His usually hardened face became a little softer as he waved his hands to his words “To leaf and bird, to branch and boar..” He smiled for a second before he realised and returned to his more harsh demeanour as he simply continued to use his knife to carve runes into the blue leather.
“We listen to the wind and the mountain, the fire and the sea.” she said and tried to listen. As both the shaman and the druid listened to the wind brushing the leafs, Kazok smiled and took word again, “My old master said the difference between you shamans and us druids is that you listen to the things that gave birth to all that lives, while we listen to all the life that was born”.
She smiled at the thought for a moment and asked further “Who was he?” He looked at her with a raised brow “Your master”.
He nodded and made a small snort from his missing nose “Rakkan Burk Nu Arrok. They called him the Pine Crown. His totem was the Stag. A good leader…far wiser than I am.” he paused for a moment and smiled to himself “well and Rikas father..” Again he paused and looked at the leather before him “Far wiser than me…and still a thick head hahaha!” He laughed and shook his head “We fought more than once about it ha!”. He laughed for a moment before there was a melancholy in his eyes.
“Fought about Rika or him being a thick head?” she asked with a smirk in only her eyes. “Bah!” He answered but could not help himself and smiled further “I was young when I became his student…so more brother and sister than..anything else..” he shook his head and snorted deeply from missing nose as he returned to the leather.
The reminder of brother and sister washed Mara’s smile away again, for she knew well that her own would be on the hunt for her now. Maybe if he would understand that it wasn’t her who collapsed the mine he could be talked to, but she knew very well that he was Aru’Gals most loyal, and fair to say, strongest slave.
She took her mind off him again as she closed her eyes and put her hand down on the grass while listening to the wind for answers to her runes. Her eyes closed like Seer Cra’Gal had taught her. She tried to let her mind wander far and be cast to distant shores with the wind. Yet something kept her here, she felt the heaviness of a heart in loss and a burden to be beared. First she thought it was her own feelings, then she was afraid her brother had found them, but finally she realised the scent of leaves instead of the touch of wind. She opened her eyes and looked over to Kazok.
“You miss him a lot.” Mara realised. He shrugged and grunted. ”It's just a few days since he passed..” he nodded at the first set of runes on the wyvern and looked over to her again “I think it's fair to miss him still.”
“It always is.” she said and tried to make a reassuring smile at him “And I am sure the ancestors miss us too, in their own distant ways.” He nodded with the hint of a smile and continued with the next rune.
After that she didn’t ask further and used what she had learned to carve into the wyvern. Runes about the wind between the leaves, the strength of the ancestors and the smile of the young. New ages to face, and old ones to hold dear. Her runes sparked her own heart, as she more and more realised there was no coming back to the mountain. Even if Aru’Gal should die, the clan thought it was her who destroyed the mine and it was holy. Especially for a shaman there were few things worse they could do. Few of them, she should see in the weeks to come. But none of that yet while they were at the oak. She would remember that short week for a long time as it was the last time Kara would know peace. An irony and a danger that a young Orc like hers with the fever would encounter war so soon.
Kara however did not have any thoughts about actual war, just about blood and glory. Eager to prove herself and more than anything to feel the rush of battle and the drums in her heart yet again. During their week at the Oak, she accompanied Rika and great Wolf Branak on their hunts. It had taken a lot to convince her aunt to let Kara go off alone again, but she knew it was only right. There was no reason for the Greenskins to be this nice if they wanted to hurt them and if anything Kara would learn to slow down her bloodlust for a successful hunt.
Back at the tree she trained with Kazok, even arm wrestled him at one point. She lost to no one's surprise. The crying girl of just two days earlier had changed a lot with just one victory, and laughter filled the campfires at the oak for a short time. Yet they knew it might change once things would become serious again. Once orcish blood was flowing and once the cold of the north would catch up with them. They should learn how hard it was to change things with but one victory, but how easy for everything to be destroyed with just one loss.