Two

Jaluli ran for all she was worth, soft, padded leather boots allowing her feet to find sure footing despite the under growth of the jungle. Her breathing was even, arms pumping as her eyes scanned the jungle for any signs of added enemies coming her way. That she could feel the hot breath of her pursuer on the back of her neck was a childish fantasy. Or nightmare.

She ignored the pain in her side, the old wound that she was told could only be healed in the Moonglade, ignored the cuts and nicks as she ran headlong through dense greenery, leaves as sharp as a well honed dagger taking little slices out of the flesh of her arms and crisscrossing them with angry red lines, ignored the welts and scratches from branches as she brushed them aside without losing her forward momentum.

The cliff came quickly, her eyes widening as she passed through leaves to find open air only a few more strides in front of her. Instinct. She jumped into a slide, left arm lashing out to grasp at a thin tree precariously placed where dirt met rock. Sliding straight forward, her hand took hold and she began to swing left. Liquid fire raked down her side and into her thigh as the Panther turned, sliding and clawing for both solid footing and its prey. Her eyes squeezed shut from the pain, she sensed rather than saw the Panther as it pitched over the edge of the cliff and fell to the Crocolisks below.

...she could hear them enjoying their snack, though.

Shuddering, she lay still simply breathing. Pain lanced down her left side where the cat had scored a hit. She feared looking at the wound, but knew she must. Steeling herself for the worst, she pushed over on her side just as a white blur hopped lightly from rock to rock on the cliff face before her, landing a foot away, a concerned noise escaping from the throat of the white leopard.

"...ah be fine, Shi'Vallah.." She winced saying it, then let her eyes drift to her wounds. The Panther had done worse on the leg than the rest of her, thin claw marks in her side barely red with blood leading to deep, wide cuts in her thigh that bled but did not gush. Not enough to indicate she was going to die, but enough to cause her problems if she didn't get it under control.

Blowing her hair out of her face with a quick puff, she pulled her pack off her back and set it on the ground before her. Wrapping the leg in bandages while Shi'Vallah licked the wounds on her arm and face, rough tongue picking out any bits of dirt, Jaluli relaxed a bit - there was not enough blood here to mean the Panther had nicked something important, only ripped the flesh. Trying to flex the leg made her head spin though.

Fishing in her pack, she pulled out a vial Torero had given her, his eyes very serious as he told her to be more careful when she was out hunting. She very nearly laughed again, the image of his fat finger waggling at her fresh on her mind. Swallowing it quickly, she shuddered. Medicine always did taste vile and this was no exception. Still, her head cleared, and the pain in her leg lessened while the pain in her side was all but gone now. Fingering the holes in her leathers, she sighed. Mobility of movement had it's prices.

A slash of red across the shoulder of her friend, standing out against the white fur, made her frown.

"Choo been fightin' too?!" she asked, and got a tilted, blink-less stare for her trouble. Grumbling about silly cats and their curious natures, she washed the wound while the cat sat there looking like she wanted to be anywhere else in the world but here. Sure, it was fine for the cat to clean her wounds, but for her to return the favor was a terrible imposition.

"...Grom'Gol foah us.." she said, eyeing the cliff warily. "Best we be findin' anuddah way down, ya?" Her hair was a mess, pulled free of the band she used to hold it back. Quickly readjusting it she considered once again simply cutting it all off - it only got in the way. Frowning immediately, she pushed the thought away and pushed herself onto her feet, replacing the pack on her back.

Leaning on Shi'Vallah a bit more than she intended, they made their way back into the jungle, Jaluli trying to rely on her senses and instinct a bit more this time, avoiding the animals until they found the road again. Morticai always cautioned her about roads having travelers, and travelers having eyes to see, and tongues to wag, but she didn't think she could manage the shadows. Every step she took brought a new intensity to the throbbing growing in her thigh.

The road, as it turned out, wasn't that far, but it did twist away in the opposite direction from where she'd been, so it's no wonder she'd missed it before. Damned road seemed to snake back and forth in this jungle. Ten paces and she found herself on a rope bridge. Looking left, she saw the Crocs lounging lazily in the sun, their bellies full and hearts content on the meal she'd made them. She didn't want to think how close she'd come to being that meal herself.

Grom'Gol was, in her opinion, nearly useless. A few huts and a half-assed attempt at an inn all for what? Booty Bay was just a bit further to the South and had more to offer in every way. Still, as she limped past the guards at the gate, one of whom leered at her despite her wounds - that one she didn't trust of course - she'd never been happier to see a useless settlement in all her life. A Troll woman spied her immediately and nearly tripped over her own feet as she scrambled over to lend a hand.

Jaluli waved her off with a grimace that would have turned the friendliest person in the world away from her. Hand gripping Shi'Vallah's fur near to pulling it free, she climbed the tower and waited for the Zepplin to take her to the City of the Dead.

~*~*~*~

The cave was not much. In fact, there was little if anything to it at all, but it was the place she called home now. Pelts hung from the walls and lined the floors in the corner where she slept, a fire pit long since cold sat in the center. A few odds and ends sat on makeshift shelves but for the most part it was stark and barren, as she herself felt most of the time.

Shi'Vallah waited for her to collapse on her bed of furs before padding over to her spot some ten feet away, the Leopard turning and scratching at her own bed before finally curling up to watch her friend through lidded eyes.

Jaluli lay in a heap, her strength all but gone as she pulled the stone from her belt and spoke, pressing a particular node gently.

"..ah be back."

Pressing it again, she sought a different node, "...Torero? ah... please..."

The stone fell from her hand as darkness enveloped her, and sleep deep and empty took her at last.

 

Dreams

...the stone fell from her hand, and in a fever, Jaluli began to dream...

Jaluli shuffled from one foot to the other uncertainly. The woman standing off to the side was much older than she, with a fierce look in her eye, and in her manner in general. She had so much world experience compared to Jaluli, who'd hardly been out of her village until now.

Mostly, she was aware of how she herself must look to the older woman; one whole side of her face still swollen and badly bruised, eye barely able to see, the rest of her covered in cuts and bruises that were half healed or covered in bandages - a picture of misery and weakness. She still limped when she walked.

But Morticai was right, and she knew it. No more sword and shield for Jaluli. The breaks had been two severe and no amount of training would bring the strength back. She did not regret the loss, but she agreed that there had to be something new for her to focus on....

"...I know a woman in Orgrimmar. A hard woman," he'd said in that voice of his, all gravel and smooth at the same time. "She can teach you skills that might give you purpose again. I'll not have you moping around this cave all day and night. You'll earn your keep..."

Sian'dur's eyes met hers and there was nothing left but to take the last few steps towards her and introduce herself.

"...ah," she coughed, clearing her suddenly parched throat. "Ah be Jaluli. Ah come ta learn..."

The older woman swept her gaze across Jaluli from head to toe, pausing at bruises and cuts and bandages, Jaluli flinching at each pause, a lie on her lips and ready if the woman asked a question she did not want to answer, and an excuse to leave just as ready should the woman press her on it.

[Troll] "This isn't easy work, becoming a Hunter. I expect nothing but the best from those I teach."

Blinking, Jaluli released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and nodded. "Ah know," she said, refusing to speak in her native tongue. Orcish would be her language now, or whatever the Forsaken spoke, if she could learn it. Who better than she, Forsaken by all save one, so speak such a language? And who better than she, dead to the world, to live in the land of the Dead, near the City of the Dead? Oh yes, in her heart, she was Forsaken.

[Troll] "I don't care what you were, or what you think you are now - if you are going to commit to this, then you commit. No half steps or excuses."

'Hard', Morticai had said. Stone was soft compared to Sian'dur. Lifting her chin slightly, Jaluli nodded once. "Ah be 'ere ta learn. Ah won' quit."

[Troll] "Good," Sian'dur said with a smile that made her face look more grim than before, if that were even possible. "Then let us begin..."

~*~*~*~

End

Alas, this is where the story ends. It is unfinished to this day.